CHAPTER V. AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES
The extensive domain of the Marquis de Bruyeres was situated justupon the edge of the Landes, and consisted mostly of productive,highly-cultivated land--the barren sand reaching only to the boundarywall of the great park that surrounded the chateau. An air of prosperitypervaded the entire estate, in pleasing contrast with the desolateregion of country close at hand. Outside the park wall was a broad, deepditch, filled with clear water and spanned by a handsome stone bridge,wide enough for two carriages abreast, which led to the grand entrancegates. These were of wrought iron, and quite a marvel of delicateworkmanship and beauty. There was a good deal of gilding about them, andthe lofty apex bore a marquis's crown above a shield supported bytwo naked savages, upon which the de Bruyeres arms were richlyemblazoned--it was an entrance worthy of a royal demesne. When our partypaused before it, in the course of the morning, a servant in a rich,showy livery was slowly opening the folding leaves of the magnificentgates, so as to admit them into the park. The very oxen hesitated erethey took their slow way through it, as if dazzled by so much splendour,and ashamed of their own homeliness--the honest brutes little suspectingthat the wealthy nobleman's pomp and glitter are derived from theindustry of the lowly tillers of the soil. It certainly would seem asif only fine carriages and prancing horses should be permitted to passthrough such a portal as this, but the chariot of Thespis, no matter howhumble, is privileged, and not only enters, but is welcome everywhere.
A broad avenue led from the bridge to the chateau, passing by carefullyclipped shrubbery, whence marble statues peeped out here and there, anda beautiful garden, with flower-beds ingeniously laid out in geometricalpatterns, and brilliant with well contrasted colours. The narrow walksamong them were bordered with box, and strewn with fine sand of varioustints, and several little fountains threw up their sparkling jets amongthe flowers. In the centre of the garden was a magnificent fountain,with a large, oblong, marble basin, and a Triton, on a high pedestal,pouring water from a shell. A row of yews, skilfully trimmed intopyramids, balls, and various fanciful shapes, and placed at regulardistances on each side of the grand avenue, extended from the entrancegates to the chateau, their sombre hue contrasting well with thebrighter green of the foliage behind them. Everything was in the mostperfect order; not a leaf out of place, nor a particle of dust to beseen anywhere, as if the gardeners had just freshly washed and trimmedevery tree, shrub, and plant under their care.
All this magnificence astonished and delighted the poor comedians, whorarely gained admission to such an abode as this. Serafina, affectingindifference, but noting everything carefully from under her loweredeye-lashes, promised herself to supplant the soubrette in the marquis'sfavour, feeling that this great seignior was her own legitimate prey,and ought to have devoted himself to her in the first place, instead ofweakly yielding to the vulgar blandishments of the pretty waiting-maid,as he should no longer be permitted to do--if she had any power.
Meanwhile the soubrette, feeling sure of her conquest, had given herselfup to castle-building with all the fervour Of her ardent southernnature. Isabelle, who was not preoccupied by any ambitious projects,turned her head now and then to glance and smile tenderly at deSigognac, who was sitting in the chariot behind her and who she knewmust be feeling acutely the painful contrast between this splendidestate and his own desolate, half-ruined chateau. Her loving heartached for him, and her eyes spoke sweetest sympathy to the poor youngnobleman, reduced so low a fortune, yet so worthy of a better fate.
The tyrant was deep in thought, trying to decide how, much he mightventure to demand for the services of his troupe, and mentallyincreasing the amount at every step, as new glories disclosed themselvesto his wondering eyes. The pedant was looking forward impatiently tothe copious draughts of generous wine he felt sure of enjoying in thesplendid chateau that was now in full view, and Leander, strivingto smooth his slightly dishevelled locks with a dainty littletortoise-shell pocket-comb, was wondering, with a fluttering heart,whether a fair marquise dwelt within those walls, and would gaze downupon him from one of those windows as he alighted--indulging in highhopes of the impression he should make upon her susceptible heart.
The Chateau de Bruyeres, which had been entirely rebuilt in thepreceding reign, was a noble structure, of immense size, three storiesin height, and enclosing a large interior court. It was built of redbrick, with elaborate, white stone facings. There were many prettybalconies with sculptured stone railings, and large, clear panes ofglass--an unusual luxury at that epoch--in the numerous lofty windows,through which the rich hangings within were visible; and a projectingporch, reached by an imposing flight of broad stone steps, in the centreof the facade, marked the main entrance. The high, steep roof was ofslate, in several shades, wrought into a quaint, pretty pattern, andthe groups of tall chimneys were symmetrically disposed and handsomelyornamented. There was a look of gaiety and luxury about this reallybeautiful chateau which gave the idea of great prosperity, but not theslightest approach to vulgar pretension. There was nothing meretriciousor glaring; everything was substantial and in perfect taste, andan indescribably majestic, dignified air, if we may be allowed theexpression, pervaded the whole establishment, which spoke of ancientwealth and nobility under all this modern splendour.
Behind the chateau, its gardens and terraces, was a veritable forest oflofty, venerable trees, forming the magnificent park, which was of greatextent, and for centuries had been the pride of the Bruyeres.
Although our high-minded young hero had never been envious of any onein his life, he could not altogether suppress the melancholy sigh withwhich he remembered that in former years the de Sigognacs had stoodhigher than the de Bruyeres in the province, and had taken precedence ofthem at court; nor could he help contrasting in his own mind this fresh,new chateau, replete with every beauty and luxury that a cultivatedtaste could devise and plentiful wealth procure, with his own desolate,dilapidated mansion--the home of owls and rats--which was gradually butsurely crumbling into dust, and a keen pang shot through his heart atthe thought. He recalled the dreary, solitary, hopeless life he had ledthere, and said to himself that the Marquis de Bruyeres ought to bea very happy man, with so much to make his existence delightful. Thestopping of the chariot at the foot of the broad stone steps in thefront of the chateau aroused him from his reverie; he dismissed asquickly as he could the sad thoughts that had engrossed him, endeavouredto dismiss also the dark shadow from his brow, and jumping lightly tothe ground turned and held out his hand to help Isabelle to descend,before any one else could offer her that little service.
The Marquis de Bruyeres, who had seen the chariot advancing slowly upthe avenue, stood in the porch to receive them. He was superbly dressed,and looked very handsome, as both Serafina and the soubrette secretlyremarked. He descended two or three steps as the chariot stopped, andwelcomed his guests with a friendly wave of the hand--doing them as muchhonour as if they had been of his own rank--which act of courtesy, letus hasten to explain, was because of the Baron de Sigognac's presenceamong them; but for that they would not have been brought to the mainentrance at all.
At this moment the wily soubrette, seeing her opportunity for a boldstroke, prepared to alight; and as de Sigognac was fully occupied withIsabelle, and nobody else thought of paying any attention to her--forshe always jumped to the ground as lightly as a bird, disdainingassistance--she hesitated for a moment, with an adorable little air oftimidity, and then raised an appealing glance to the marquis. He couldnot resist it, and, rushing down the steps to her aid, held out bothhands to her. With wonderful art the clever little actress managedto slip and lose her balance, so as to fall into his extended arms,clasping him around the neck as she did so.
"Pardon me, my lord," said she, breathlessly, to the marquis, feigninga confusion she was far from really feeling, "I thought I was going tofall, and grasped your collar, just as a drowning man clutches at thenearest object. A fall is a bad omen, you know, as well as a seriousmatter, for a poor
actress."
"Permit me to look upon this little accident as a favour," the marquisreplied, giving her a most significant glance, and lightly pressing heryielding form in his arms before he released her.
Serafina had watched this little by-play out of the corner of her eye,though her face was apparently turned away from them, and she bither lip till it bled, with vexation; so after all the soubrette hadsucceeded, by an abominably bold action, in compelling the marquis toneglect her betters and give his warmest welcome to a low intrigante,said the "leading lady" to herself, swelling with righteous indignation,and abusing the offender roundly in her thoughts--wishing that she coulddo it aloud, and expose her outrageous, unmannerly artifice.
"Jean," said the marquis to a servant in livery who stood near, "havethis chariot taken into the court, and see that the decorations,scenery, etc., are carefully put in some convenient place; have theluggage of these ladies and gentlemen carried to the rooms thatI ordered to be made ready for them, and take care that they haveeverything they want;" then in a lower tone, but very emphatically,"I desire that they should be treated with the utmost courtesy andrespect."
These orders being given, the marquis gravely ascended the steps,followed by the comedians, and having consigned them to his major-domoto show them to their respective rooms and make them comfortable,he gracefully bowed and left them; darting an admiring glance at thesoubrette as he did so, which she acknowledged by a radiant smile, thatSerafina, raging inwardly, pronounced "abominably bold."
The chariot meantime had made its way into a back court, accompanied bythe tyrant, the pedant and Scapin, who superintended the unloading ofthe various articles that would be needed--a strange medley, which thesupercilious servants of the chateau, in their rich liveries, handledwith a very lofty air of contempt and condescension, feeling it quitebeneath their dignity to wait upon a band of strolling players. But theydared not rebel, for the marquis had ordered it, and he was a severemaster, as well as a very generous one.
The major-domo, however, conducted his charges to their appointedchambers with as profound an air of respect as if they had been realprinces and princesses; for the marquis himself had visited the leftwing of the chateau, where they were to be lodged, had specified theroom for each guest, and ordered that they should want for nothing--avery unusual proceeding on his part, as he was in the habit of leavingall such minor details to his trusty major-domo. A beautiful chamber,hung with tapestry which represented the loves of Cupid and Psyche, wasgiven to the soubrette, the pretty, dainty, blue one to Isabelle, andthe luxurious red one to Serafina, whilst the more sober brown onewas assigned to the duenna. The Baron de Sigognac was installed in amagnificent apartment, whose panelled walls were covered with richlyembossed Spanish leather. It was close to Isabelle's room--a delicateattention on the part of the marquis. This superb chamber was alwaysreserved for his most honoured guests, and in giving it to our younghero he desired to testify that he recognised and appreciated his rank,though he religiously respected his incognito.
When de Sigognac was left alone, and at liberty to think overquietly the odd situation in which he found himself, he looked at hismagnificent surroundings with surprise as well as admiration--for he hadnever in his life seen, or even imagined, such splendour and luxury. Therich glowing colours of the chimerical flowers and foliage embossed ona golden ground of the Spanish leather on the walls, the correspondingtints in the frescoed ceiling and the heavy, silken hangings at thewindows and doors and round the bed, the elaborately carved and gildedfurniture, the luxurious easy-chairs and sofas, the large mirrors withbevelled edges, and the dainty dressing-table, lavishly furnished withall the accessories of the toilet, with its oval glass draped with lacewhich was tied back with knots of gay ribbon, certainly did make up acharming whole, and the wood fire burning brightly in the open fireplacegave a cheerful, cosy air to it all.
Our poor young baron blushed painfully as he caught sight of his ownfigure in one of the long mirrors--his shabby, ill-fitting clotheslooked so sadly out of place amidst all this magnificence--and forthe first time in his life he felt ashamed of his poverty. Highlyunphilosophical this, but surely excusable in so young a man as ourhero. With a natural desire to improve his forlorn appearance if hecould, he unpacked the scanty supply of clothing that his faithfulPierre had put up for him--hoping that he might come across something alittle less thread-bare than the suit he actually had on his back--butthe inspection was not satisfactory, and he groaned as he discarded onefaded, shabby garment after another. The linen was not any better--wornso that it was thin everywhere, with numerous darns and patches, andmany holes, he could not find a single shirt that was whole and in goodcondition. He was so absorbed in this melancholy inspection that he didnot hear a low knock at the door, nor notice that it was slowly pushedopen, having been already ajar, to admit the stout person of Blazius,who approached him with many bows and flourishes, though entirelyunobserved. When the pedant reached his side de Sigognac was justholding up before him a shirt that had as many openings as the rosewindow of a cathedral, and slowly shaking his head as he gazed at it,with an expression of utter discouragement.
"Body of Bacchus!" exclaimed the pedant--his voice, so close at hand,startling the astonished baron, who had believed himself alone, and safefrom intrusion--"that shirt has verily a valiant and triumphant air. Itlooks as if it had been worn by Mars himself in battle, so riddled hasit been by lances, spears, darts, arrows, and I know not what besides.Don't be ashamed of it, Baron!--these holes are honourable to you. Manya shirt of fine linen, ruffled and embroidered, according to the latestfashion, disguises the graceless person of some rascally parvenu--andusurer as well perhaps--who usurps the place of his betters. Severalof the great heroes, of immortal fame, had not a shirt to theirbacks--Ulysses, for example, that wise and valiant man, who presentedhimself before the beautiful Princess Nausicaa, with no other coveringthan a bunch of sea-weed--as we are told, in the Odyssey, by the grandold bard, Homer."
"Unfortunately," de Sigognac replied, "there is no point of resemblance,my dear Blazius, between me and the brave King of Ithaca, save the lackof linen. _I_ have done no deeds of valour to shed a lustre over MYpoverty. I have had no chance to make myself famous, and I fear thatthe poets will never celebrate my praises in glowing hexameters. But,jesting aside, I must confess that I do feel greatly annoyed at beingforced to appear in this guise here. The Marquis de Bruyeres recognisedme, though he made no sign, and he may betray my secret."
"It _is_ a pity," said the pedant in reply, "but there's a remedy forevery ill under the sun, save death, according to the old saying, andif you will permit me, I think that I can help you out of this awkwarddilemma. We, poor players, shadows of real men and women, phantoms ofpersonages of every degree, from the highest to the lowest, havethe means necessary for assuming almost any character, you know.As 'costumier' of the troupe I am accustomed to make all sorts oftransformations, and can turn a miserable vagabond into an Alexander,or a vulgar wench into a princess. Now, if you are not too proud, I willexercise my poor skill in your lordship's service. Since you have beenwilling to join our company for this journey, do not disdain to makeuse of our resources, such as they are, and put aside these ill-fittinggarments, which disguise your natural advantages, and make you feel illat ease. Most fortunately I happen to have in reserve a handsome suit ofblack velvet, which has not the least of a theatrical air about it, andhas never been used; any gentleman could wear it, and unless I am muchmistaken it will fit you capitally. I have also the fine linen shirt,silk stockings, shoes--with broad buckles, and cloak to go withit--there is nothing wanting, not even the sword."
"Oh! as to that," cried de Sigognac, with a gesture expressive ofall that pride of birth which no misfortunes could crush, "I have myfather's sword."
"True," answered Blazius, "and guard it sacredly, my lord! for a swordis a faithful friend--defender of its master's life and honour. IT doesnot abandon him in times of peril and disaster, like the false friendswho clin
g only to prosperity. Our stage swords have neither edgenor point, for they are only intended for show; the wounds they makedisappear suddenly when the curtain falls, without the aid of thesurgeon with his instruments and lint. That trusty sword of yours youcan depend upon in any emergency, and I have already seen it doing goodservice in our behalf. But permit me to go and fetch the things I spokeof; I am impatient to see the butterfly emerge from the chrysalis."
Having thus spoken, in the theatrical way that had become habitual withhim, the worthy pedant quitted the room, and soon reappeared, carryinga large package, which he deposited on the table in the centre of thechamber.
"If your lordship will accept an old actor as valet-de-chambre," hesaid, rubbing his hands joyfully together, "I will beautify you in notime. All the ladies will be sure to fall in love with you, for--with nodisrespect to the larder at the Chateau de Sigognac be it said--youhave fasted so much in your lonely life there that it has made you mostinterestingly slender and pale--just what the dear creatures delight in.They would not listen to a word from a stout lover, even if the diamondsand pearls of the fairy tale dropped from his lips whenever he spoke.That is the sole reason for my want of success with the fair sex, and Ilong ago deserted the shrine of Venus for the worship of Bacchus. A bigpaunch is not amiss among the devotees of that merry god, for it bearswitness to plentiful libations."
Thus running on gaily, the worthy pedant strove to amuse the melancholyyoung nobleman, while he deftly performed his duties as valet; andthey were very quickly completed, for the requirements of the stagenecessitate great dexterity on the part of the actors to make themetamorphoses frequently needed with sufficient promptness and rapidity.Charmed with the result of his efforts he led de Sigognac up to oneof the large mirrors, wherein, upon raising his eyes, he saw a figurewhich, at the first glance, he thought must be that of some person whohad entered the room without his knowledge, and turned to ask who theintruder was--but there was no stranger there, and he discovered that itwas his own reflection--so changed that he was mute with astonishment.A young, handsome, richly-dressed de Sigognae stood before him, and aradiant smile parted his lips and lighted up his face as he gazed athis own image, which perfected the really marvellous transformation.Blazius, standing near, contemplated his work with undisguised pride andsatisfaction, changing his position several times so as to get differentviews, as a sculptor might who had just put the finishing touches to hisstatue altogether to his liking.
"When you have made your way at court, my lord, and regained theposition held by your ancestors, as I hope and expect that you will do,I shall pray you to give me a refuge for my old age in your household,and make me intendant of your lordship's wardrobe," said he, with aprofound bow to the baron.
"I will not forget your request, my good Blazius, even though I fearthat I shall never be able to comply with it," de Sigognae answered witha melancholy smile. "You, my kind friend, are the first human being thathas ever asked a favour of me."
"After our dinner, which we are to have very shortly, we are to consultwith his lordship, the marquis, as to what play shall be given thisevening, and learn from him where we are to rig our theatre. You willpass for the poet of the troupe; it is by no means an unheard-of thingfor men of learning and position to join a band of players thus--eitherfor the fun of the thing, and in hope of adventures, or for the loveof a young and beautiful actress. I could tell you of several notableinstances; and it is thought to be rather to a man's credit thanotherwise in fashionable circles. Isabelle is a very good pretext foryou; she is young, beautiful, clever, modest, and virtuous. In fact manyan actress who takes like her the role of the ingenuous young girl isin reality all that she personates, though a frivolous and frequentlylicentious public will not credit it for a moment."
Herewith the pedant discreetly retired, having accomplished, to hisgreat satisfaction, what he had really feared to propose to the youngbaron, for whom he had conceived a very warm affection.
Meanwhile the elegant Leander, indulging in delightful dreams of thepossible fair chatelaine who was to fall a victim to his charms, wasmaking his careful toilet--arraying himself in his most resplendentfinery, scrupulously kept for grand occasions--convinced that great goodfortune awaited him, and determined to carry the noble lady's heart bystorm.
As to the actresses, to whom the gallant marquis, with princelymunificence, had sent several pieces of rich stuffs and silks, it isneedless to say that they spared no pains to make themselves as charmingas possible, and obeyed the summons to dinner radiant with smiles and inhigh good humour--excepting indeed the fair Serafina, who was inwardlyconsumed with envy and spite, but careful to conceal it from allbeholders.
The marquis, who was of an ardent, impatient nature, made his appearancein the dining-room before they had quite finished the sumptuous repastwhich had been served to them; he would not allow them to rise, butseated himself at the table with them, and when the last course had beenremoved, asked the tyrant to be good enough to give him a list of theplays they were in the habit of acting, so that he might select onefor the evening's entertainment. But so many were enumerated that hislordship found it not easy to make a choice, and expressed his desire tohave the tyrant's ideas upon the subject.
"There is one piece we often play," Herode said, "which never fails toplease, and is so full of good-natured fun and nonsense that it keepsthe audience in a roar of laughter from the beginning to the end."
"Let us have that one, by all means," the marquis exclaimed; "and praywhat is the name of this delightful play?"
"The Rodomontades of Captain Matamore."
"A capital title, upon my word! and has the soubrette a good part init?" asked his lordship, with a languishing glance at her.
"The most racy, mischievous role imaginable," said Herode warmly, "andshe plays it to perfection--it is her chef d'oeuvre. She is alwaysapplauded to the echo in it."
At this high praise from the manager, Zerbine--for such was thesoubrette's name--tried her best to get up a becoming blush, but invain. Modesty she had none, and the tint she would fain have calledinto requisition at that moment was not contained in any of her numerousrouge-pots. So she cast down her eyes, thereby displaying to advantagethe length and thickness of her jet-black lashes, and raised her handwith a deprecating gesture, which called attention to its pretty, taperfingers and rosy nails. The marquis watched he admiringly, and shecertainly was very charming in her way. He did not vouchsafe even aglance to the other two young actresses--refraining from testifying anymarked admiration for Isabelle because of the prior claim of the Baronde Sigognac--though he was secretly very much delighted with hersweet, refined style of beauty, and the quiet dignity and grace of herdeportment. Serafina, who was naturally indignant that the marquis hadnot even asked if there was a part for her in the piece to be performed,accused him in her heart of being no gentleman, and of having verylow, vulgar tastes, but she was the only one of the party that felt anydissatisfaction.
Before the marquis left them he said to Herode, "I have given ordersto have the orangery cleared so that our theatre can be arranged there;they are carrying planks, trestles, benches, hangings, and all otherneedful articles in there now. Will you kindly superintend the workmen,who are new to this sort of business? They will obey your orders as theywould my own."
Accordingly the tyrant, Blazius and Scapin repaired to the orangery,which was at a little distance from the chateau and admirably calculatedfor the purpose it was now to serve, and where they found everythingnecessary to convert it into a temporary theatre.
Whilst this work is going forward we will make our amiable, indulgentreaders acquainted with the fair mistress of the chateau--havingheretofore forgotten to mention that the Marquis de Bruyeres was amarried man; he thought of it so seldom himself that we may surely bepardoned for this omission. As can be readily imagined, from our lastremark, love had not been the moving cause in this union. Adjoiningestates, which, united in one, formed a noble domain, and equality ofrank had been the
chief considerations. After a very brief honeymoon,during which they had become painfully aware of a total want ofcongeniality, the marquis and marquise--like well-bred people, makingno outcry about their matrimonial failure--had tacitly agreed to liveamicably under the same roof, but entirely independent of each other--heto go his way and she hers, with perfect freedom. They always treatedeach other in public, and indeed whenever they chanced to meet, withthe greatest courtesy, and might easily have been mistaken by a casualobserver for an unusually happy and united pair. Mme. la Marquiseoccupied a sumptuous suite of apartments in the chateau, which herhusband never thought of entering without first sending to ascertainwhether it would be convenient for madame to receive him, like a formalvisitor. But we will avail ourselves of the time-honoured privilegeof authors, and make our way into the noble chatelaine's bed-chamber,without any form or ceremony--feeling sure of not disturbing its fairoccupant, since the writer of a romance wears upon his finger thewonder-working ring of Gyges, which renders him invisible.
It was a large, lofty room, hung with superb tapestry representing theadventures of Apollo, and exhibiting every luxury that wealth couldprocure. Here also a bright wood fire was, burning cheerily, and theMarquise de Bruyeres sat before her dressing table, with two maids inattendance upon her, absorbed in the all-important business of puttingthe finishing touches to her extremely becoming as well as effectivetoilet. Mme. la Marquise was a handsome brunette, whose embonpoint,which had succeeded to the slender outline of early youth, had added toher beauty; her magnificent black hair, which was one of her ladyship'sgreatest charms, was dressed in the most elaborate fashion--an intricatemass of glossy braids, puffs and curls, forming a lofty structure, andornamented with a large bow of crimson ribbon, while one long curl fellupon her fair neck, making it look all the whiter by contrast. Herdress of crimson silk, cut very low, displayed to advantage--the plump,dimpled shoulders, and her snowy bosom, and from a band of black velvetround her throat was suspended a heart-shaped locket, set with superbrubies and brilliants. A white satin petticoat covered with pricelessold lace, over which the crimson silk gown, open in front, was loopedhigh upon the hips, and then swept back in a long, ample, richly trimmedtrain, completed the elegant toilet of Mme. la Marquise. Jeanne,the favourite maid and confidante, held open the box of tiny black,"muoches"--without which no fashionable lady of that epoch consideredherself fully equipped--while the marquise placed one, with most happyeffect, near the corner of her rather pretty mouth, and then hesitatedsome time before she could decide where to put the other, which sheheld ready on the tip of her forefinger. The two maids stood motionless,breathlessly watching their mistress, as if fully impressed with theimportance of this grave question, until at last the little black starfound a resting-place just above the edge of the crimson silk bodice,to the left--indicating, in the accepted hieroglyphics of that age ofgallantry, that he who aspired to the lips of the fair wearer must firstwin her heart.
After a last lingering look in the mirror Mme. la Marquise rose andwalked slowly towards the fire, but suddenly, remembering that there wasyet one adornment wanting, turned back, and took from a beautiful casketstanding open on the toilet-table, a large, thick watch--called in thosedays a Nuremberg egg--which was curiously enamelled in a variety ofbright colours, and set with brilliants. It hung from a short, broadchain of rich workmanship, which she hooked into her girdle, nearanother chain of the same description, from which depended a smallhand-mirror in a pretty gold frame.
"Madame is looking her loveliest to-day," said Jeanne in flatteringtones; "her hair is dressed to perfection, and her gown fits like aglove."
"Do you really think so?" asked her mistress languidly, and withaffected indifference. "It seems to me, on the contrary, that I ampositively hideous. My eyes are sunken, and this colour makes me lookimmensely stout. I have half a mind to exchange this dress for a blackone now. What do you think, Jeanne? Black makes people look slender,they say."
"If madame insists upon it I can quickly make the exchange; but it wouldbe a sad pity not to wear such an elegant and becoming costume as madamehas on now."
"Well, let it be then; but it will be all your fault, Jeanne, if I failto receive as much admiration as usual this evening. Do you know whetherthe marquis has invited many people to come and see this play?"
"Yes, madame, several messengers have been sent off on horsebackin different directions, and there will be sure to be a largegathering--they will come from all the chateaux within drivingdistance--for such an occasion as this is rare, here in the depths ofthe country."
"You are right," said Mme. la Marquise, with a deep sigh, which wasalmost a groan; "we are buried alive in this dreary place. And whatabout these players?--have you seen them, Jeanne?--are there anyhandsome young actors among them?"
"I have only had a glimpse of them, madame, and such people are sopainted and fixed up, they say, that it is hard to tell what they reallydo look like; but there was one slender young man, with long, blackcurls and a very good figure, who had quite a grand air."
"That must be the lover, Jeanne, for it is always the best looking youngactor in the troupe who takes that part. It would be ridiculous, youknow, to have a stout old codger, or a very ugly man, or even an awkwardone, making declarations of love, and going down on their knees, and allthat sort of thing--it would not do at all, Jeanne!"
"No, madame, it would not be very nice," said the maid with a merrylaugh, adding shrewdly, "and although it seems to make very littledifference what husbands may be like, lovers should always be everythingthat is charming."
"I confess that I have a weakness for those stage gallants," Mme.la Marquise said with a little sigh, "they are so handsome, and sodevoted--they always use such beautiful language, and make such gracefulgestures--they are really irresistible. I cannot help feeling vexed whentheir impassioned appeals are received coldly, and they are driven todespair, as so often happens in plays; I would like to call them to meand try to console them, the bewitching creatures!"
"That is because madame has such a kind heart that she can't bear tosee any one suffer without trying to help and comfort them," said thespecious Jeanne. "Now I am of quite a different mind--nothing I wouldlike better than to flout a sentimental suitor; fine words would notgain any favour with me--I should distrust them."
"Oh! you don't understand the matter, Jeanne! You have not read as manyromances, or seen as many plays as I have. Did you say that young actorwas very handsome?"
"Mme. la Marquise can judge for herself," answered the maid, who hadgone to the window, "for he is just crossing the court this blessedminute, on his way to the orangery, where they are rigging up theirtheatre."
Mme. la Marquise hastened to the window, and there was Leander in fullview, walking along slowly, apparently lost in thought, and wearing atender, sad expression, which he considered especially effective andinteresting--as we have said, he never for a moment forgot his role.As he drew near he looked up, as by a sudden inspiration, to the verywindow where the marquise stood watching him, and instantly takingoff his hat with a grand flourish, so that its long feather swept theground, made a very low obeisance, such as courtiers make to a queen;then drew himself up proudly to his full height, and darting an ardentglance of admiration and homage at the beautiful unknown, put on hisbroad felt hat again and went composedly on his way. It was admirablywell done; a genuine cavalier, familiar with all the gallant usages invogue at court, could not have acquitted himself better. Flatteredby this mark of respect for her rank and admiration of her beauty, sogracefully tendered, Mme. la Marquise could not help acknowledging itby a slight bend of the head, and a little half suppressed smile.These favourable signs did not escape Leander, who, with his usualself-conceit, took a most exaggerated view of their import. He did notfor a moment doubt that the fair mistress of the chateau--for he took itfor granted it was she--had fallen violently in love with him, then andthere; he felt sure that he had read it in her eyes and her smile. Hisheart beat tumultuously; he tr
embled with excitement; at last it hadcome! the dream of his life was to be accomplished; he, the poor,strolling player, had won the heart of a great lady; his fortune wasmade! He got through the rehearsal to which he had been summoned as besthe might, and the instant it was over hastened back to his own room, toindite an impassioned appeal to his new divinity, and devise some meansto insure its reaching her that same evening.
As everything was in readiness the play was to begin as soon as theinvited guests had all assembled. The orangery had been transformed intoa charming little theatre, and was brilliantly lighted by many clustersof wax candles. Behind the spectators the orange trees had been arrangedin rows, rising one above the other, and filled the air with theirdelicious fragrance. In the front row of seats, which was composed ofluxurious arm-chairs, were to be seen the beautiful Yolande de Foix, theDuchesse de Montalban, the Baronne d'Hagemeau, the Marquise de Bruyres,and many other titled dames, resplendent in gorgeous array, and vyingwith each other in magnificence and beauty. Rich velvets, brilliantsatins, cloth of silver and gold, misty laces, gay ribbons, whitefeathers, tiaras of diamonds, strings of pearls, superb jewels,glittering in delicate shell-like ears, on white necks and rounded arms,were in profusion, and the scene would have graced the court itself. Ifthe surpassingly lovely Yolande de Foix had not been present, severalradiant mortal goddesses in the exceptionally brilliant assemblage mighthave made it difficult for a Paris to decide between their rival claimsto the golden apple; but her beauty eclipsed them all, though it wasrather that of the haughty Diana than the smiling Venus. Men raved abouther, declared her irresistible, worshipped at her shrine, but neverdared aspire to her love; one scornful glance from her cold blue eyeseffectually extinguished any nascent hope, and the cruel beauty punishedpresumption as relentlessly, and won and flung away hearts with as muchnonchalance, as ever did her immortal prototype, the fair goddess of thechase.
How was this exquisite creature dressed? It would require moresang-froid than we are possessed of to venture upon a description ofher perfect toilet; her raiment floated about her graceful form like aluminous cloud, in which one could think only of herself; we believe,however, that there were clusters of pearls nestling amid the brightcurls that made an aureola--a veritable golden glory--about herbeautiful head.
Behind these fair ladies sat or stood the nobles and gentlemen who hadthe honour of being their fathers, husbands, and brothers. Some wereleaning forward to whisper soft nothings and dainty compliments intowilling ears, others lounging and fanning themselves lazily with theirbroad felt hats, and others still standing in the background lookingadmiringly at the pretty group before them. The hum of conversationfilled the air, and a slight impatience was just beginning to manifestitself among the waiting audience, when the traditional three knockswere heard, and all suddenly subsided into silence.
The curtain rose slowly and revealed a very pretty scene representinga public square where several streets met, surrounded by picturesquehouses with small latticed windows, overhanging gables, high peakedroofs, and smoke curling upwards from the slender chimneys against theblue sky.
One of these houses had a practicable door and window, whilst two ofthose in the side scenes enjoyed equal advantages, and one of them wasfurnished with a balcony. A few trees were scattered about in front ofthe houses, and, though the painting was not of the highest orderof scenic art, the general effect was very good, and won a round ofapplause from the aristocratic audience. The piece opens with a quarrelbetween the testy old bourgeois, Pandolphe, and his daughter, Isabelle,who, being in love with a handsome young suitor, obstinately refuses toobey her father's commands and marry a certain Captain Matamore, withwhom he is perfectly infatuated. She is ably supported in her resistanceby her pretty maid, Zerbine, who is well paid by Leander, the favouredlover, to espouse his cause. To all the curses and abuse that Pandolpheshowers upon her, she answers gaily with the most exasperating andamusing impertinences, advising him to marry this fine captain himselfif he is so fond of him; as for her part she will never suffer her dear,beautiful mistress to become the wife of that horrid old codger, thatabominable bully, that detestable scarecrow! Whereupon Pandolphe,furiously angry, orders her into the house, so that he may speak to hisdaughter alone; and when she refuses to obey, and defies him to makeher, he takes her by the shoulders and attempts to force her to go, butshe, bending forward with admirable elasticity, from the waist only, ateach vigorous effort of his, stands her ground and does not budge oneinch from her place, breaking into peals of laughter at every freshattempt, and accompanying it all with an irresistibly saucy,comical by-play, that wins her round after round of enthusiasticapplause--whilst the Marquis de Bruyeres, enchanted with her spiritedacting, congratulates himself anew upon the happy chance that threw thischarming creature in his way.
Another character now enters upon the scene, looking cautiously abouthim at every step, as if he feared an unpleasant surprise. This isLeander, the horror of fathers, husbands, and guardians, the delight ofwives, daughters, and wards--in one word, the lover--the very beau-idealof a lover; young, handsome, ardent, ready for anything, winningover strict old duennas, bribing pert waiting-maids, climbing uprope-ladders, overcoming every obstacle to reach the fair mistressof his affections, and kneeling at her feet to pour out burningprotestations of love and devotion, that no mortal woman could everresist. Suddenly perceiving that Pandolphe is here, where he onlyexpected to find Isabelle, Leander stops and throws himself into anattitude, which he has frequently practised before the mirror,and which, he flatters himself, shows his handsome person to greatadvantage; standing with his weight thrown upon the left leg, the rightone advanced and slightly bent at the knee; one hand on the hilt of hissword, the other stroking his chin, so as to make the big diamond on hisfinger flash in the light, and a slight smile playing about his lips. Hereally did look very handsome as he stood there, and was greatly admiredby all the ladies--even the haughty Yolande herself not disdaining tosmile upon him approvingly. Profiting by the opportunity that this pausegave him, Leander fixed his eyes upon the Marquise de Bruyeres, withsuch a look of passionate entreaty and admiration that she blushedcrimson in spite of herself under his ardent gaze; then he turnedreluctantly towards Isabelle, with an absent, indifferent air, whichhe intended should indicate to the fair object of his aspirations thedifference between real and simulated passion.
When Pandolphe becomes aware of the presence of Leander he is morefurious than ever, and hustles his daughter and her maid into the houseas quickly as possible, not, however, without Zerbine's finding means totake from Leander a note for Isabelle, which she slips into the pocketof her coquettish little apron. The young man, left alone with the iratefather, assures him in the most respectful manner that his intentionsare honourable; that he asks the hand of his fair daughter in marriage;that he is of gentle birth, has an ample fortune, and is in high favourat court; that nothing could ever induce him to give up Isabelle; he isready to risk everything to win her, for he loves her better than hislife--delicious words, which the young girl listens to with rapture fromher balcony, whence she makes little signs of approval and encouragementto her lover, quite unknown to the stern father, whose back is turnedto her, and who believes her safely locked up in the house. Despitethe mellifluous eloquence of the ardent young suitor Pandolphe remainsobstinate and unmoved, and swears, by all the gods that either he willhave Captain Matamore for his son-in-law, or his refractory daughtershall be shut up in a convent and forced to become a nun. Off he bustlesin hot haste to find a notary and have the contract of marriage drawnwithout further delay.
As soon as he is out of sight Leander tries to persuade Isabelle--whois still in her balcony, her father having carried off the key of thestreet door in his pocket--to consent to fly from such persecution, andaccompany him to the cell of a certain holy hermit whom he knows,and who is always willing and ready to marry runaway couples likethemselves, whose loves are thwarted by tyrannical parents. But theyoung girl answers modestly, yet firmly, that,
although she wishesnothing so earnestly as to be permitted to bestow her hand upon herfaithful Leander, who already has her heart, she cannot disobey herfather, for that she, like all dutiful daughters, is in duty bound torespect and submit to the commands of the author of her being; but shepromises never to marry the detested Captain Matamore--she will go intothe convent rather than listen to him for a moment. Unable to shakeher decision Leander then retires to devise plans, with the aid of hisclever valet, to overcome the formidable obstacles in his way--more thanever determined not to give up the fair Isabelle, and promising her toreturn in the evening and report progress.
Isabelle retires from her balcony and closes her window, and a momentafter Captain Matamore strides fiercely upon the stage--his appearanceis greeted with peals of laughter--his tall, attenuated figure isencased in an absurd costume, in which the bright red and yellowstripes of his tunic meet in points in front and behind, whilst theyrun spirally round his long, thin arms and legs, producing the mostpreposterously comical effect imaginable; a stiffly-starched ruff,immensely broad, encircles his neck, upon which his head seems to beset, like that of John the Baptist on the charger; a large felt hat,turned up at one side, and ornamented with a huge tuft of red and yellowfeathers, is stuck jauntily on his head, and a short cloak of the samecolour, fastened round his neck and thrown back from his shoulders,floats behind him. He wears an enormous sword, whose heavily weightedhilt keeps the point always raised and standing out prominently behindhim, whilst from it dangles a clever imitation of a spider's web--aconvincing proof of how much he is in the habit of making use of thisformidable weapon. Closely followed by his valet, Scapin, who is inimminent danger of having an eye put out by the end of his master's bigsword, he marches several times around the stage, taking preternaturallylong strides, rolling his eyes about fiercely, twisting the long endsof his huge mustache, and indulging in a variety of ridiculous gesturesindicative of exaggerated rage and fury, which are irresistiblyfunny--all the more so because there is nothing whatever to provokethis display of ferocity. Finally he stops in front of the footlights,strikes an attitude, and delivers himself thus: "For to-day, Scapin, Iam willing to let my man-killer here have a little rest, so that theremay be an opportunity to get all its recent victims decently buried, inthe cemeteries I contribute so largely towards filling. When a manhas performed such feats of courage and carnage as I have--killing myhundreds single-handed, while my dastardly comrades trembled with fear,or turned and fled from the foe--to say nothing of my daily affairs ofhonour, now that the wars are over--he may assuredly indulge himselfoccasionally in milder amusements. Besides, the whole civilized world,having now been subjugated by my good sword, no longer offers anyresistance to my indomitable arm, and Atropos, the eldest of the dreadParcae sisters, has sent word to me that the fatal scissors, with whichshe cuts the threads of human lives, have become so dulled by the greatamount of work my trusty blade has given her to do with them, that shehas been obliged to send them to Vulcan to be sharpened, and she begsfor a short respite. So you see, Scapin, I must put force upon myselfand restrain my natural ardour--refrain for a time from wars, massacres,sacking of cities, stand-up fights with giants, killing of monsters anddragons, like Theseus and Hercules of glorious memory, and all the otherlittle pastimes which usually occupy my good sword and me. I will takemy ease now for a brief period, and Death may enjoy a short rest too.But to whom did my worthy prototype, Mars, the great god of war, devoteHIS leisure hours? in whose sweet society did HE find delight? AskVenus, the immortal goddess of love and beauty, who had the good tasteto prefer a warlike man to all others, and lent a willing ear to thesuit of my valiant predecessor. So I, following his illustrious example,condescend to turn my attention for the moment to the tender sex, andpay my court to the fair Isabelle, the young and beautiful object of myardent love. Being aware that Cupid, with all his assurance, would notdare to aim one of his golden-tipped arrows at such an all-conqueringhero as my unworthy self, I have given him a little encouragement; and,in order that the shaft may penetrate to the generous lion's heart thatbeats in this broad breast, I have laid aside the world-famed coat ofmail--made of the rings given to me by goddesses, empresses, queens,infantas, princesses, and great ladies of every degree, my illustriousadmirers the world over--which is proof against all weapons, and has sooften saved my life in my maddest deeds of daring."
"All of which signifies," interrupts the valet, who had listened to thishigh-blown tirade with ill-concealed impatience, "as far as my feebleintellect can comprehend such magnificent eloquence, that your mostredoubtable lordship has fallen in love with some young girl hereabouts,like any ordinary mortal."
"Really, Scapin," says Matamore, with good-humoured condescension, "youhave hit the nail upon the head--you are not so stupid after all, for avalet. Yes, I have fallen in love, but do not imagine for a moment thatmy courage will suffer diminution on that account. It was all very wellfor Samson to allow his hair to be cut off, and for Alcides to handlethe distaff at the bidding of his mistress; but Delilah would not havedared to touch one hair of my head, and Omphale should have pulled offmy boots for me--at the least sign of revolt I would have given herworse to do: cleaning the skin of the Nemaean lion, for instance, whenI brought it home all fresh and bleeding, just as I had torn it from thequivering carcass. The thought that has lately occurred to me, that Ihave subjugated only half of the human race, is humiliating. Women,by reason of their weakness, escape me; I cannot treat them as I do mymasculine opponents--cut their throats, run them through the body,or hew off their arms and legs; I must lay siege to their hearts, andconquer them in that way. It is true that I have stormed and taken agreater number of such fair citadels than there are drops of water inthe ocean, or stars in the sky--why, I sleep on a mattress stuffed withthousands of beautiful curls and tresses of every shade, light and dark,golden and jet-black, which are among my most treasured trophies.Juno herself has made overtures to me, but I turned a deaf ear to herblandishments, finding her charms rather too ripe for my taste; I preferthe first flush of youthful beauty; it is a pure and innocent maidenthat I would honour with my notice now, but she repulses me--that Ishould live to say it!--she dares to repulse me. I cannot permit suchan impertinence on her part, and the fair Isabelle must humbly sue to mefor pardon, and herself bringing the golden keys of the citadel of herheart, upon a salver of silver, offer them to me upon her bended knees,with streaming eyes and dishevelled tresses, begging for grace andfavour in my sight. Go now, and summon the fortress to surrender--thishouse contains the rebellious fair."
But doors and windows remain inexorably closed, and no notice is takenof the valet's thundering knocks and mocking summons to surrender;secure in the strength of their bolts and bars, the garrison, whichconsists of Isabelle and her maid, vouchsafes no reply. Matamore,becoming more enraged at each vain attempt to gain a response fromhis fair enemy, stamps about the stage, roaring out his defiance,threatening to sack and burn the place, pouring out volleys ofremarkable oaths, and lashing himself into such a fury that he actuallyfoams at the mouth. When his valet at length, after many vain efforts,is able to gain a hearing, and tells him of his formidable rival,Leander, and how he has already won the lady's heart, all his rage isturned against that fortunate suitor, of whom he vows that he willmake mince-meat as soon as he can lay hands on him. At this very momentLeander himself returns, and Scapin points him out to his master as heapproaches, adding that he will keep a sharp look-out for the policewhile Matamore is giving him his quietus. But the cowardly braggadociowould fain withdraw, now that the enemy is actually in sight, and isonly restrained from flight by his servant, who pushes him forwarddirectly in Leander's path.
Seeing that escape is impossible, Matamore settles his hat firmly on hishead, twists the long ends of his mustache, puts his hand on the hiltof his big sword, and advances threateningly towards Leander--but it ispure bravado, for his teeth are chattering with fear, and his long, thinlegs waver and tremble under him visibly, like reeds shaken by th
ewind. Only one hope remains to him--that of intimidating Leander by loudthreats and ferocious gestures, if, by a happy chance, he be a fellow ofhis own kidney. So in a terrible voice he addresses him thus: "Sir, doyou know that I am the great Captain Matamore of the celebrated houseof Cuerno de Cornazan, and allied to the no less illustrious familyof Escobombardon de la Papirontonda? I am a descendant, on my mother'sside, of the famous Antacus, the ancient hero and giant."
"Well, you may be a descendant of the man in the moon for all that Icare," answers Leander, with a disdainful shrug of the shoulders; "whatthe devil have I to do with such absurd stuff and nonsense?"
"Blood and bones! thunder and Mars! You see, sir, you shall see, andthat very quickly, what you have to do with it, unless you take yourselfoff in the twinkling of an eye. I will give you one minute's grace, foryour extreme youth touches me, so take to your heels and fly while thereis yet time. Observe me well! I am the terror of the whole world--mypath is marked with graves--my own shadow scarcely dares to follow meinto the perils I delight in. If I enter a besieged city, it is bythe breach--when I quit it I pass under a triumphal arch; if I cross ariver, it is one of blood, and the bridge is made of the bodies of myadversaries. I can toss a knight and his horse, both, weighted witharmour, high into the air. I can snap elephants' bones, as youwould pipe-stems. When great Mars himself chances to meet me on thebattle-field he turns and flees, dreading the weight of my arm. Myprowess is so well known, and the terror I inspire so great, that no onedares to meet me face to face, and I never see anything but the backs ofmy retreating foes."
"Is it so? well, you shall meet ME face to face. Take THAT, and see howyou like it!" says Leander laughing merrily, and giving him a soundingslap on one cheek which almost knocks the poor devil over, and isinstantly followed by an equally hearty one on the other, to restore hisequilibrium.
During this scene Isabelle and Zerbine come out upon the balcony. Themischievous soubrette goes into convulsions of laughter, whilst hermistress nods encouragingly to Leander. Meantime Pandolphe, accompaniedby the notary, turns the corner of one of the streets and enters thesquare just in time to see Leander's extraordinary exploit, whereathe is horrified and amazed. The valiant captain bellows like a bull,shrieks out the most frightful threats and curses, vowing all sorts ofvengeance, and making prodigious efforts to draw his big sword, so thathe may forthwith set about cutting up his unmannerly assailant intomince-meat. He tugs and strains until he is red in the face, but his"man-killer" cannot be induced to quit the scabbard and Leander, growingimpatient, follows up his first attack with a vigorous, well directedkick, which sends the unlucky bully flying to the other side of thestage, where he falls all in a heap and rolls in the dust. The handsome,young gallant then bows gracefully to Isabelle and retires from thescene.
Captain Matamore meanwhile lies sprawling on the ground, makingludicrous and ineffectual efforts to regain his feet. Pandolphe andScapin go to his assistance, and when they have hauled him up, and hehas made sure that Leander is no longer present, he roars out in a voiceof thunder: "Scapin, quick, hoop me with iron bands or I shall burst!I am in such a rage! I shall explode like a bomb! and you, treacherousblade, do YOU play me false at such a moment? Is it thus you reward mefor having always tried to slake your insatiable thirst with the bloodof the bravest and noblest? I don't know why I have not already brokenyou into a thousand pieces, as you so richly deserve--false, ungratefulweapon that you are! But stay--was it to teach me that it is unworthyof the true warrior to desert his post?--or forget his sterner dutiesin the soft delights of love?--was it for that you refused to leap fromyour scabbard as of old? It is true, alas! that thus far this weekI have not defeated a single army--I have killed neither ogre nordragon--I have not furnished his usual rations to Death--and inconsequence my trusty blade has rusted in the scabbard--that I shouldlive to say it! rusted!--and I have been forced to submit to insults,and even blows, before the very eyes of my mistress. What a lesson!Henceforth I shall make it a rule to kill at least three men everymorning before I break my fast, so as to be sure that my good swordplays freely--keep me in mind, Scapin, do you hear?"
"Perhaps Leander will return before long," says the valet; "suppose weall help you to draw your 'TRUSTY BLADE,' so that you may be ready forhim."
Matamore, accordingly, plants himself firmly, holding the scabbard inboth hands, Scapin seizes the handle of the sword, Pandolphe clasps himfirmly round the waist, the notary tries to do as much by Pandolphe'sstout person, and they all pull and pull. For some time the rusty oldsword resists all their efforts, but at last yields suddenly, and thethree fall in a confused heap on the ground, with legs and arms wavingwildly in the air, while Matamore tumbles the other way, still clingingto the now empty scabbard. Picking himself up as quickly as possiblehe seizes his big sword, which has dropped from the valet's hand, andwaving it triumphantly says with stem emphasis, "Now Leander's fate issealed! There is but one way for him to escape certain death. He mustemigrate to some distant planet. If he be sufficiently fool-hardy toremain on this globe I will find him, no matter in what distant land hestrives to hide himself, and transfix him with this good sword--unlessindeed he be first turned to stone by the terrible Medusa-like power ofmy eye."
In spite of all that he has witnessed, the obstinate old fatherstill feels unbounded faith in Matamore's valour, and persists in hislamentable intention to bestow the hand of his fair daughter upon thismagnificent hero. Poor Isabelle bursts into tears, and declares thatshe prefers the convent to such a fate. Zerbine loudly swears thatthis marriage shall never take place, and tries to console her weepingmistress. Matamore attributes this rather discouraging demonstration onthe part of Isabelle to an excess of maidenly modesty, not doubtingher penchant for himself, though he acknowledges that he has not yetproperly paid his court, nor shown himself in all his glory to her--thislast from prudential motives, fearing lest she might be dangerouslydazzled and overwhelmed if he should burst upon her too suddenly in thefull splendour of his heroic character, remembering, and takingwarning by, the sad and terrible fate that befell Semele, when Jupiter,reluctantly yielding to her wishes, appeared before her with all theinsignia of his majesty.
Isabelle and her maid withdrew from the balcony, without taking anyfurther notice of the valiant Matamore; but he, undaunted, wishingto play the lover after the most approved fashion, plants himselfresolutely under her window and sends Scapin to fetch a guitar; uponwhich he thrums awkwardly for a while, and then accompanies it with hisvoice, in an attempt at a Spanish love song, which sounds much like thenocturnal caterwauling of a disconsolate tabby than anything else we cancompare it to. A dash of cold water, mischievously thrown down on himby Zerbine under pretext of watering the plants in the balcony, does notextinguish his musical ardour. "A gentle shower from the sweet eyes ofmy Isabelle, moved to tears by this plaintive melody," says he, "for itis universally conceded that I excel in music as in arms, and wield thelyre as skilfully as the sword."
Unfortunately for him, Leander suddenly reappears, and highly indignantthat this miserable rascal should presume to serenade HIS mistress,snatches the guitar from his hands and begins whacking him over the headwith it, so furiously that it is quickly broken through, and slippingover the unhappy serenader's head remains fixed round his neck, so thathe is completely at the mercy of his assailant. Holding fast to thehandle of the guitar, Leander hauls him about the stage, banging himagainst the side-scenes, dragging him forward to the footlights--makingthe most absurd scene imaginable--and finally, letting go of himsuddenly, sends him sprawling on the ground. Fancy the ridiculousappearance of the unfortunate bully, who looked as if he had put hishead through a frying-pan!
But his miseries are not yet at an end. Leander's valet had beenarranging a clever little plot to prevent the fulfilment of the proposedmarriage between Isabelle and Captain Matamore. At his instigation,a certain Doralice, very pretty and coquettish, makes her appearance,accompanied by a fierce-looking brother--represented by Herode--carryingtwo im
mensely long rapiers under his arm, and evidently "spoiling for afight." The young lady complains that she has been shamefully jilted byCaptain Matamore, who has deserted her for Isabelle, the daughter ofa certain Pandolphe, and demands instant reparation for this outrage,adding that her brother is ready to exact it at the point of the sword,or avenge the insult by taking the life of the heartless villain who hastrifled with her youthful affections.
"Make haste to give this rascal his quietus," says Pandolphe to hisfuture son-in-law; "it will be only child's play for you, who havefearlessly encountered, single-handed, a whole army of Saracens."
Very reluctantly, and after many most absurd grimaces, Matamore crossesswords with Doralice's ferocious brother, but he trembles so that thelatter, with one quick movement, sends his weapon flying out of hishand, and chastises him with the flat of his sword until he roars formercy.
To cap the climax, Mme. Leonarde comes upon the scene, mopping herstreaming eyes with an enormous pocket-handkerchief, sighing andsobbing, and bewailing herself. She goes straight to Pandolphe and showshim a written promise of marriage, over Matamore's signature, cleverlycounterfeited; whereupon the poor wretch, convicted of such abominableand complicated perfidy, is assailed with a new shower of blows andcurses, and finally condemned, by the unanimous vote of all present, tomarry old Mme. Leonarde--who has made herself as hideous as possible--asa fitting punishment for all his deviltries, rodomontades, andcowardice. Pandolphe, thoroughly disgusted with Matamore at last, makesno further objections to Leander's suit, and the curtain falls as hegives his consent to the marriage of the two young lovers.
This bouffonnade, being played with great spirit, was enthusiasticallyapplauded. The gentlemen were charmed with the mischievous, coquettishsoubrette, who was fairly radiant with beauty that evening; the ladieswere greatly pleased with Isabelle's refinement and modesty; whilstMatamore received the well merited encomiums of all. It would have beenimpossible to find, even in the great Parisian theatres, an actor betterfitted for the part he had played so admirably. Leander was muchadmired by all the younger ladies, but the gentlemen agreed, without adissenting voice, that he was a horridly conceited coxcomb. Whereverhe appeared indeed this was the universal verdict, with which he wasperfectly content--caring far more for his handsome person, and theeffect it produced upon the fair sex, than for his art; though, to dohim justice, he was a very good actor. Serafina's beauty did not fail tofind admirers, and more than one young gentleman swore by his mustachethat she was an adorable creature--quite regardless of the displeasureof the fair ladies within hearing.
During the play, de Sigognac, hidden in the coulisses, had enjoyedintensely Isabelle's charming rendering of her part, though he wasmore than a little jealous of the favour she apparently bestowed uponLeander--and especially at the tender tone of her voice whenever shespoke to him--not being yet accustomed to the feigned love-making on thestage, which often covers profound antipathies and real enmity. Whenthe play was over, he complimented the young actress with a constrained,embarrassed air, which she could not help remarking, and perfectlyunderstood.
"You play that part admirably, Isabelle! so well that one might almostthink there was some truth in it."
"Is it not my duty to do so?" she asked smilingly, secretly pleased athis displeasure; "did not the manager engage me for that?"
"Doubtless," de Sigognac replied, "but you seemed to be REALLY in lovewith that conceited fellow, who never thinks of anything but his owngood looks, and how to display them to the best advantage."
"But the role required it. You surely would not have had me play it asif he disgusted me! besides, did I not preserve throughout the quietdemeanour of a well-bred, respectable girl? If I failed in that you musttell me how and where, so that I may endeavour to correct it in future."
"Oh no! you appeared from the beginning to the end like a modest,retiring, young lady--no, there is no fault to be found with you inthat respect; your acting was inimitable--so graceful, lady-like, andeasy--but withal so true to nature that it was almost too real."
"My dear baron, they are putting out the lights; everybody has gone butourselves, and we shall be left in the dark if we don't make haste. Begood enough to throw this cloak around my shoulders and accompany me tothe chateau."
De Sigognac acquitted himself of this novel duty with less awkwardnessthan might have been expected, though his hands trembled a little, andhe felt an almost irresistible desire to take her into his arms as hewrapped the mantle round her slender form; but he restrained himself,and respectfully offering his arm led her out of the orangery, which bythis time was entirely deserted. It was, as we have said, at a littledistance from the chateau, and on the level of the park, lower than themansion, which stood on a high terrace, with a handsome stone balustradeat the edge, supporting at regular intervals large vases filled withblooming plants, in the pretty Italian fashion. A broad, easy flightof stone steps led up to the terrace, affording in their ascent amost imposing view of the chateau, which loomed up grandly against theevening sky. Many of the windows on this side were lighted, whilst theothers glistened brightly as the silvery moon-beams struck upon them--asdid also the dewdrops on the shrubbery and the grass-plots--as if ashower of diamonds had fallen on this favoured spot. Looking towardsthe park, the long vistas cut through the wood, losing themselves in thehazy blue of the distance, called to mind Breughel's famous picture ofParadise, or else disclosed the far-away gleam of a marble statue, orthe spray of a misty fountain sparkling in the moonlight.
Isabelle and de Sigognac slowly ascended the broad steps, pausingfrequently to turn and look back at this enchanting scene, and charmedwith the beauty of the night walked for a little while to and fro uponthe terrace before retiring to their rooms. As they were in full sightof the windows, and it was not yet very late, the modest young girlfelt that there could be no impropriety in this little indulgence; andbesides, the baron's extreme timidity was very reassuring to her, andshe knew that he would not presume upon the favour accorded to him. Hehad not made a formal avowal of his love to her, but she was as wellaware of it as if he had, and also of his profound respect for her,which sentiment is indeed always an accompaniment of a worthy passion.She knew herself beloved--the knowledge was very sweet to her--andshe felt herself safe from all fear of offence in the company of thishonourable gentleman and true lover. With the delicious embarrassmentof nascent, unavowed love, this young couple wandering by moonlight ina lonely garden, side by side, arm in arm, only exchanged the mostinsignificant, commonplace remarks; but if no undercurrent was betrayedby actual words, the trembling, voices, long pauses, stifled sighs,and low, confidential tones told of strong emotions beneath this quietsurface.
The chamber assigned to the beautiful Yolande de Foix, near that of Mme.la Marquise, was on this side of the chateau, overlooking the park, andafter she had dismissed her maid, she went to the window to look outonce more upon the exceeding beauty of the night, and caught sight ofde Sigognac and Isabelle, pacing slowly back and forth on the terracebelow, without any other company than their own shadows. Assuredly thedisdainful Yolande, haughty as a goddess, could never have felt anythingbut scorn for our poor young baron, past whom she had sometimes flashedin a whirlwind of light and noise in the chase, and whom she had sorecently cruelly insulted; but still it displeased her to see himdevoting himself thus to a beautiful young girl, to whom he wasundoubtedly making love at that very moment. She had regarded him asher own humble vassal--for she had not failed to read the passionateadmiration in his eyes whenever they met her own--and could not brookhis shaking off his allegiance thus; her slaves ought to live and die inher service, even though their fidelity were never rewarded by a singlesmile. She watched them, with a frowning brow, until they disappeared,and then sought her conch in anything but a tranquil mood, haunted bythe lover-like pair that had so roused her wrath, and still kept herlong awake.
De Sigognac escorted Isabelle to the door of her chamber, where he badeher good-night, and as he turned away towa
rds his own, saw, at the endof the corridor, a mysterious looking individual closely wrapped in alarge cloak, with one end thrown over the shoulder in Spanish fashion,and so drawn up round his face that only the eyes were visible; a slouchhat concealed his forehead, so that he was completely disguised, yet hedrew back hurriedly into a dark corner when de Sigognac turned towardshim, as if to avoid his notice. The baron knew that the comedians hadall gone to their rooms already, and besides, it could not be one ofthem, for the tyrant was much larger and taller, the pedant a greatdeal stouter, Leander more slender, Matamore much thinner, and Scapin ofquite a different make. Not wishing to appear curious, or to annoy theunknown in any way, de Sigognac hastened to enter his own room--nothowever without having observed that the door of the tapestry-hungchamber stood ajar. When he had closed his, he heard stealthy footstepsapproaching, and presently a bolt shot home softly, then profoundsilence.
About an hour later, Leander opened his door as quietly as possible,looked carefully to see if the corridor was empty, and then, steppingas lightly and cautiously as a gipsy performing the famous egg-dance,traversed its whole length, reached the staircase, which he descended asnoiselessly as the phantoms in a haunted castle, and passed out into themoonlight; he crept along in the shadow of the wall and of some thickshrubbery, went down the steps into the park, and made his way to a sortof bower, where stood a charming statue of the mischievous little god oflove, with his finger on his lip--an appropriate presiding genius ofa secret rendezvous, as this evidently must be. Here he stopped andwaited, anxiously watching the path by which he had come, and listeningintently to catch the first sound of approaching footsteps.
We have already related how Leander, encouraged by the smile with whichMme. la Marquise acknowledged his salutation, and convinced that she wassmitten with his beauty and grace, had made bold to address a letterto her, which he bribed Jeanne to place secretly upon her mistress'stoilet-table, where she would be sure to see it. This letter we copyhere at length, so as to give an idea of the style of compositionemployed by Leander in addressing the great ladies of whose favours heboasted so loudly.
"Madame, or rather fair goddess of beauty, do not blame anything butyour own incomparable charms for this intrusion upon you. I am forced bytheir radiance to emerge from the deep shadow in which I should remainshrouded, and approach their dazzling brilliancy--just as the dolphinsare attracted from the depths of ocean, by the brightness of thefisherman's lanterns, though they are, alas! to find destruction there,and perish by the sharp harpoons hurled pitilessly at them with unerringaim. I know but too well that the waves will be reddened by my blood;but as I cannot live without your favour, I do not fear to meet deaththus. It may be strangely audacious, on my part to pretend to theprivileges of gods and demi-gods--to die by your fair hand--but I dareto aspire to it; being already in despair, nothing worse can come to me,and I would rather incur your wrath than your scorn, or your disdain.In order to direct the fatal blow aright, the executioner must look uponhis victim, and I shall have, in yielding up my life under your fair,cruel hand, the supreme delight of being for one blissful moment theobject of your regard. Yes, I love you, madame! I adore you! And if itbe a crime, I cannot repent of it. God suffers himself to be adored; thestars receive the admiration of the humblest shepherd; it is the fateof all such lofty perfection as yours to, be beloved, adored, only byinferior beings, since it has not its equal upon earth, nor scarcelyindeed in heaven. I, alas! am but a poor, wandering actor, yet were Ia haughty duke or prince, my head would not be on a level with yourbeauteous feet, and there would be, all the same, between your heavenlyheight and my kneeling adoration, as great a distance as from thesoaring summit of the loftiest Alp to the yawning abyss far, far below.You must always stoop to reach a heart that adores you. I dare to say,madame, that mine is as proud as it is tender, and she who would deignnot to repulse it, would find in it the most ardent love, the mostperfect delicacy, the most absolute respect, and unbounded devotion.Besides, if such divine happiness be accorded me, your indulgencewould not have to stoop so low as you might fancy. Though reduced by anadverse destiny and the jealous hatred of one of the great ones of theearth, who must be nameless, to the dire necessity of hiding myselfunder this disguise, I am not what I seem. I do not need to blush formy birth--rather I may glory in it. If I dared to betray the secrecyimposed upon me, for reasons of state, I could prove to you that mostillustrious blood runs in my veins. Whoever may love me, noble thoughshe be, will not degrade herself. But I have already said too much--mylips are sealed. I shall never be other than the humblest, most devotedof your slaves; even though, by one of those strange coincidences thathappen sometimes in real life, I should come to be recognised by all theworld as a king's son. If in your great goodness you will condescend toshow me, fair goddess of beauty, by the slightest sign, that myboldness has not angered you, I shall die happy, consumed by the burningbrightness of your eyes upon the funeral pyre of my love."
How would Mme. la Marquise have received this ardent epistle? which hadperhaps done him good service already more than once. Would she havelooked favourably upon her humble suitor?--who can tell?--for thefeminine heart is past comprehension. Unfortunately the letter did notreach her. Being entirely taken up with great ladies, Leander overlookedtheir waiting-maids, and did not trouble himself to show them anyattentions or gallantries--wherein he made a sad mistake--for ifthe pistoles he gave to Jeanne, with his precious epistle, had beensupplemented by a few kisses and compliments, she would have taken farmore pains to execute his commission. As she held the letter carelesslyin her hand, the marquis chanced to pass by, and asked her idly what shehad got there.
"Oh! nothing much," she answered scornfully, "only a note from Mr.Leander to Mme. la Marquise."
"From Leander? that jackanapes who plays the lover in the Rodomontadesof Captain Matamore? What in the world can HE have to say to Mme. laMarquise? Doubtless he asks for a gratuity!"
"I don't think so," said the spiteful waiting-maid; "when he gave methis letter he sighed, and rolled up his eyes like a love-sick swain."
"Give me the letter," said the marquis, "_I_ will answer it--anddon't say anything about it to your mistress. Such chaps are apt to beimpertinent--they are spoiled by admiration, and sometimes presume uponit."
The marquis, who dearly loved a joke, amused himself by answeringLeander's extraordinary epistle with one in much the same style--writtenin a delicate, lady-like hand upon perfumed paper, and sealed with afanciful device--altogether a production well calculated to deceive thepoor devil, and confirm him in his ridiculous fancies. Accordingly, whenhe regained his bed-chamber after the play was over, he found upon hisdressing-table a note addressed to himself. He hastened to open it,trembling from head to foot with excitement and delight, and read asfollows: "It is true, as you say so eloquently--too eloquently for mypeace of mind--that goddesses can only love mortals. At eleven o'clock,when all the world is sunk in slumber, and no prying human eyes open togaze upon her, Diana will quit her place in the skies above and descendto earth, to visit the gentle shepherd, Endymion--not upon Mount Latmus,but in the park--at the foot of the statue of silent love. The handsomeshepherd must be sure to have fallen asleep ere Diana appears, so as notto shock the modesty of the immortal goddess--who will come withouther cortege of nymphs, wrapped in a cloud and devoid of her silveryradiance."
We will leave to the reader's imagination the delirious joy that filledto overflowing the foolish heart of the susceptible Leander, who wasfooled to the top of his bent, when he read this precious note, whichexceeded his wildest hopes. He immediately began his preparations toplay the part of Endymion--poured a whole bottle of perfume upon hishair and hands, chewed a flower of mace to make his breath sweet,twisted his glossy curls daintily round his white fingers--though not ahair was awry--and then waited impatiently for the moment when he shouldset forth to seek the rendezvous at the foot of the statue of silentlove--where we left him anxiously awaiting the arrival of his goddess.He shivered nervously
from excitement, and the penetrating chillinessof the damp night air, as he stood motionless at the appointed spot. Hetrembled at the falling of a leaf--the crackling of the gravel underhis feet whenever he moved them sounded so loud in his ears that he feltsure it would be heard at the chateau. The mysterious darkness ofthe wood filled him with awe, and the great, black trees seemed liketerrible genii, threatening him. The poor wretch was not exactlyfrightened, but not very far from it. Mme. la Marquise was tardy--Dianawas leaving her faithful Endymion too long cooling his heels inthe heavy night dew. At last he thought he heard heavy footstepsapproaching,--but they could not be those of his goddess--he must bemistaken--goddesses glide so lightly over the sward that not even ablade of grass is crushed beneath their feet--and, indeed, all wassilent again.
"Unless Mme. la Marquise comes quickly, I fear she will find onlya half-frozen lover, instead of an ardent, impatient one," murmuredLeander with chattering teeth; and even as the words escaped himfour dark shadows advanced noiselessly from behind upon the expectantgallant. Two of these shadows, which were the substantial bodies ofstout rascals in the service of the Marquis de Bruyeres, seized himsuddenly by the arms, which they held pinioned closely to his sides,while the other two proceeded to rain blows alternately upon hisback--keeping perfect time as their strokes fell thick and fast. Tooproud to run the risk of making his woes public by an outcry, theirastonished victim took his punishment bravely--without making a sound.Mutius Scaevola did not bear himself more heroically while his righthand lay among the burning coals upon the altar in the presence ofPorsenna, than did Leander under his severe chastisement. When it wasfinished the two men let go of their prisoner, all four saluted himgravely, and retired as noiselessly as they had come, without a singleword being spoken.
What a terrible fall was this! that famous one of Icarus himself,tumbling down headlong from the near neighbourhood of the sun, was nota greater. Battered, bruised, sore and aching all over, poor Leander,crestfallen and forlorn, limping painfully, and suppressing his groanswith Spartan resolution, crept slowly back to his own room; but sooverweening as his self-conceit that he never even suspected that atrick had been played upon him. He said to himself that without doubtMme. la Marquise had been watched and followed by her jealous husband,who had overtaken her before she reached the rendezvous in the park,carried her back to the chateau by main strength, and forced her, with aponiard at her throat, to confess all. He pictured her to himself onher knees, with streaming eyes, disordered dress and dishevelled hair,imploring her stem lord and master to be merciful--to have pity uponher and forgive her this once--vowing by all she held sacred never to befaithless to him again, even in thought. Suffering and miserable as hewas after his tremendous thrashing, he yet pitied and grieved over thepoor lady who had put herself in such peril for his sake, never dreamingthat she was in blissful ignorance of the whole affair, and at thatvery moment sleeping peacefully in her luxurious bed. As the poor fellowcrept cautiously and painfully along the corridor leading to his roomand to those of the other members of the troupe he had the misfortune tobe detected by Scapin, who, evidently on the watch for him, was peepingout of his own half-open door, grinning, grimacing, and gesticulatingsignificantly, as he noted the other's limping gait and drooping figure.
In vain did Leander strive to straighten himself up and assume a gay,careless air; his malicious tormentor was not in the least taken in byit.
The next morning the comedians prepared to resume their journey; nolonger, however, in the slow-moving, groaning ox-cart, which they wereglad, indeed, to exchange for the more roomy, commodious vehicle thatthe tyrant had been able to hire for them--thanks to the marquis'sliberality--in which they could bestow themselves and their belongingscomfortably, and to which was harnessed four stout draught horses.
Leander and Zerbine were both rather late in rising, and the last tomake their appearance--the former with a doleful countenance, despitehis best efforts to conceal his sufferings under a cheerful exterior,the latter beaming with satisfaction, and with smiles for everybody.She was decidedly inclined to be munificent towards her companions, andbestow upon them some of the rich spoils that had fallen plentifullyto her share--taking quite a new position among them--even the duennatreating her with a certain obsequious, wheedling consideration, whichshe had been far from ever showing her before. Scapin, whose keenobservation nothing ever escaped, noticed that her box had suddenlydoubled in weight, by some magic or other, and drew his own conclusionstherefrom. Zerbine was a universal favourite, and no one begrudgedher her good fortune, save Serafina, who bit her lip till it bled, andmurmured indignantly, "Shameless creature!" but the soubrette pretendednot to hear it, content for the moment with the signal humiliation ofthe arch-coquette.
At last the new Thespian chariot was ready for a start, and ourtravellers bade adieu to the hospitable chateau, where they had beenso honourably received and so generously treated, and which they all,excepting poor Leander, quitted with regret. The tyrant dwelt uponthe bountiful supply of pistoles he had received; the pedant uponthe capital wines of which he had drunk his fill; Matamore uponthe enthusiastic applause that had been lavished upon him by thataristocratic audience; Zerbine upon the pieces of rich silk, the goldennecklaces and other like treasures with which her chest was replete--nowonder that it was heavy--while de Sigognac and Isabelle, thinking onlyof each other, and happy in being together, did not even turn theirheads for one last glimpse of the handsome Chateau de Bruyere.