Chapter XI
THE DRAGON VOLANT
I took one look about me.
The building was picturesque; the trees made it more so. The antique andsequestered character of the scene contrasted strangely with the glareand bustle of the Parisian life, to which my eye and ear had becomeaccustomed.
Then I examined the gorgeous old sign for a minute or two. Next Isurveyed the exterior of the house more carefully. It was large andsolid, and squared more with my ideas of an ancient English hostelrie,such as the Canterbury Pilgrims might have put up at, than a Frenchhouse of entertainment. Except, indeed, for a round turret, that rose atthe left flank of the house, and terminated in the extinguisher-shapedroof that suggests a French chateau.
I entered and announced myself as Monsieur Beckett, for whom a room hadbeen taken. I was received with all the consideration due to an Englishmilord, with, of course, an unfathomable purse.
My host conducted me to my apartment. It was a large room, a littlesomber, paneled with dark wainscoting, and furnished in a stately andsomber style, long out of date. There was a wide hearth, and a heavymantelpiece, carved with shields, in which I might, had I been curiousenough, have discovered a correspondence with the heraldry on the outerwalls. There was something interesting, melancholy, and even depressingin all this. I went to the stone-shafted window, and looked out upon asmall park, with a thick wood, forming the background of a chateau whichpresented a cluster of such conical-topped turrets as I have just nowmentioned.
The wood and chateau were melancholy objects. They showed signs ofneglect, and almost of decay; and the gloom of fallen grandeur, and acertain air of desertion hung oppressively over the scene.
I asked my host the name of the chateau.
"That, Monsieur, is the Chateau de la Carque," he answered.
"It is a pity it is so neglected," I observed. "I should say, perhaps, apity that its proprietor is not more wealthy?"
"Perhaps so, Monsieur."
"_Perhaps_?" I repeated, and looked at him. "Then I suppose he isnot very popular."
"Neither one thing nor the other, Monsieur," he answered; "I meant onlythat we could not tell what use he might make of riches."
"And who is he?" I inquired.
"The Count de St. Alyre."
"Oh! The Count! You are quite sure?" I asked, very eagerly.
It was now the innkeeper's turn to look at me.
"_Quite_ sure, Monsieur, the Count de St. Alyre."
"Do you see much of him in this part of the world?"
"Not a great deal, Monsieur; he is often absent for a considerabletime."
"And is he poor?" I inquired.
"I pay rent to him for this house. It is not much; but I find he cannotwait long for it," he replied, smiling satirically.
"From what I have heard, however, I should think he cannot be verypoor?" I continued.
"They say, Monsieur, he plays. I know not. He certainly is not rich.About seven months ago, a relation of his died in a distant place. Hisbody was sent to the Count's house here, and by him buried in Pere laChaise, as the poor gentleman had desired. The Count was in profoundaffliction; although he got a handsome legacy, they say, by that death.But money never seems to do him good for any time."
"He is old, I believe?"
"Old? We call him the 'Wandering Jew,' except, indeed, that he has notalways the five _sous_ in his pocket. Yet, Monsieur, his couragedoes not fail him. He has taken a young and handsome wife."
"And she?" I urged--
"Is the Countess de St. Alyre."
"Yes; but I fancy we may say something more? She has attributes?"
"Three, Monsieur, three, at least most amiable."
"Ah! And what are they?"
"Youth, beauty, and--diamonds."
I laughed. The sly old gentleman was foiling my curiosity.
"I see, my friend," said I, "you are reluctant--"
"To quarrel with the Count," he concluded. "True. You see, Monsieur, hecould vex me in two or three ways, so could I him. But, on the whole, itis better each to mind his business, and to maintain peaceful relations;you understand."
It was, therefore, no use trying, at least for the present. Perhaps hehad nothing to relate. Should I think differently, by-and-by, I couldtry the effect of a few Napoleons. Possibly he meant to extract them.
The host of the Dragon Volant was an elderly man, thin, bronzed,intelligent, and with an air of decision, perfectly military. I learnedafterwards that he had served under Napoleon in his early Italiancampaigns.
"One question, I think you may answer," I said, "without risking aquarrel. Is the Count at home?"
"He has many homes, I conjecture," said the host evasively. "But--but Ithink I may say, Monsieur, that he is, I believe, at present staying atthe Chateau de la Carque."
I looked out of the window, more interested than ever, across theundulating grounds to the chateau, with its gloomy background offoliage.
"I saw him today, in his carriage at Versailles," I said.
"Very natural."
"Then his carriage, and horses, and servants, are at the chateau?"
"The carriage he puts up here, Monsieur, and the servants are hired forthe occasion. There is but one who sleeps at the chateau. Such a lifemust be terrifying for Madame the Countess," he replied.
"The old screw!" I thought. "By this torture, he hopes to extract herdiamonds. What a life! What fiends to contend with--jealousy andextortion!"
The knight having made his speech to himself, cast his eyes once moreupon the enchanter's castle, and heaved a gentle sigh--a sigh oflonging, of resolution, and of love.
What a fool I was! And yet, in the sight of angels, are we any wiser aswe grow older? It seems to me, only, that our illusions change as we goon; but, still, we are madmen all the same.
"Well, St. Clair," said I, as my servant entered, and began to arrangemy things.
"You have got a bed?"
"In the cock-loft, Monsieur, among the spiders, and, _par ma foi_!the cats and the owls. But we agree very well. _Vive la bagatelle_!"
"I had no idea it was so full."
"Chiefly the servants, Monsieur, of those persons who were fortunateenough to get apartments at Versailles."
"And what do you think of the Dragon Volant?"
"The Dragon Volant! Monsieur; the old fiery dragon! The devil himself,if all is true! On the faith of a Christian, Monsieur, they say thatdiabolical miracles have taken place in this house."
"What do you mean? _Revenants_?"
"Not at all, sir; I wish it was no worse. _Revenants_? No! Peoplewho have never returned--who vanished, before the eyes of half-a-dozenmen all looking at them."
"What do you mean, St. Clair? Let us hear the story, or miracle, orwhatever it is."
"It is only this, Monsieur, that an ex-master-of-the-horse of the lateking, who lost his head--Monsieur will have the goodness to recollect,in the revolution--being permitted by the Emperor to return to France,lived here in this hotel, for a month, and at the end of that timevanished, visibly, as I told you, before the faces of half-a-dozencredible witnesses! The other was a Russian nobleman, six feet high andupwards, who, standing in the center of the room, downstairs, describingto seven gentlemen of unquestionable veracity the last moments of Peterthe Great, and having a glass of _eau de vie_ in his left hand, andhis _tasse de cafe,_ nearly finished, in his right, in like mannervanished. His boots were found on the floor where he had been standing;and the gentleman at his right found, to his astonishment, his cup ofcoffee in his fingers, and the gentleman at his left, his glass of_eau de vie_--"
"Which he swallowed in his confusion," I suggested.
"Which was preserved for three years among the curious articles of thishouse, and was broken by the _cure_ while conversing withMademoiselle Fidone in the housekeeper's room; but of the Russiannobleman himself, nothing more was ever seen or heard. _Parbleu_!when _we_ go out of the Dragon Volant, I hope it may be by thedoor. I heard all this, Monsieur, from
the postilion who drove us."
"Then it _must_ be true!" said I, jocularly: but I was beginning tofeel the gloom of the view, and of the chamber in which I stood; therehad stolen over me, I know not how, a presentiment of evil; and my jokewas with an effort, and my spirit flagged.