by Mary Dillon
CHAPTER XXVI
THE CONSUL'S COMMISSION
"Hope tells a flattering tale, Delusive, vain, and hollow. Ah! let not Hope prevail, Lest disappointment follow."
Not many hours later saw me seeking admittance to the stately butdilapidated hotel of the Comtesse de Baloit in the Faubourg St.Germain. I was determined to see Pelagie, and if possible alone, so Isent up word that a messenger from the First Consul desired to seeMademoiselle la Comtesse on business of importance. I feared, should Isend up my own name, that the duchesse would not permit her to see me,but, had I known it, I could have sent no message less likely to winPelagie's consent to an interview. It was only through a lurkingsuspicion of whom the messenger might be that she consented to see me.
I was ushered into a room very luxuriously furnished, but in whicheverything had an air of faded grandeur--as if belonging to anotherage. The tapestries were not only faded but rapidly growingthread-bare, and the gold of the buhl furniture was peeling off instrips, and in tables inlaid with fine mosaics many of the stones werewanting. All this lack of care or evidence of poverty rather surprisedme, remembering the magnificent coach and gorgeously liveried servantsI had twice seen on the avenue. Then I recalled what I had often heardsince coming to Paris, that the nobility of the old regime wouldstarve and go cold at home to make the display in public theyconsidered befitting their dignity. It seemed very sad to me, and Iwondered if it could be because mademoiselle did not have enough toeat that she had seemed of late to be growing thin and pale. To me,who am both somewhat of an epicure and a valiant trencherman (andremembering the abundance she had been used to in America), nothingcould seem more pitiful than to think of my little Pelagie as goinghungry.
Yet when, in a few minutes, she came in, radiantly beautiful in someFrenchy flowing gown of pale rose-color and much soft lace andribbons, no one could think of her as hungry or poverty-pinched in anyway, but only as some wonderful fairy queen who dined on peacocks'tongues and supped on nectar and ambrosia.
She was greatly surprised to see me; I think she thought of me as akind of Daniel venturing into the lion's den. But the old lioness, theduchesse, was not with her, only the same companion I had seen in thecarriage on the Champs-Elysees, and I felt once more that fate smiledon me. It meant much to me, for I knew not whether I should ever seeher again, and I longed greatly to have a few minutes' untrammeledconversation with her, such as I had often had in St. Louis in thosedays that seemed so far away.
Perhaps my eyes dwelt too eagerly upon her. I never could quiteremember how beautiful she was when I was away from her, and so everytime I saw her I was dazzled afresh. This time, too, I was trying tofasten every lovely curve of cheek and throat, and glowing scarlet oflips, and shadowy glory of dark eyes and waving hair, and witchinglittle curls about white brow and neck, yes, and every knot of laceand ribbon, so firmly in my mind that I might always have thebeautiful picture to look on when there was no longer any hope ofseeing again the bright reality.
So absorbed was I in fixing fast in memory every little detail of thebright picture that I think I must have forgot my manners: it was onlyseeing the long lashes on the rose-tinted cheek that brought me tomyself. I bent low over her hand and then put into it the packet theFirst Consul had intrusted me to give to her.
"For me? From the First Consul?" she said, in slow surprise.
"Yes," I said; "and when you have opened it, Mademoiselle, then Icrave a few minutes' speech with you."
I turned and walked to one of the windows and stood looking down intothe courtyard where Caesar was holding our horses, that mademoisellemight examine its contents unobserved.
I knew not what was in the package nor the contents of the note thataccompanied it, but somehow I had had a feeling (perhaps because theFirst Consul had seemed so kind in his manner at our last interview,or perhaps only because my hopes pointed that way) that the Consul'snote was to use his influence with her in my behalf, as he had onceused it for the chevalier. Therefore as I stood with my back to her,looking down into the courtyard, my eyes saw not what they werelooking at, for they were filled with a vision of future happiness andI was trembling with the beauty of the vision.
"Monsieur!" I turned quickly, for the voice was cold and hard, and itfell on my heart like the sleet of early spring falling on openingbuds to chill them to death. And when I turned, the Pelagie that metmy gaze was the Pelagie I had first seen in Mr. Gratiot's house: eyesblazing with wrath, little teeth close set between scarlet lips, andlittle hands tightly clenched. My heart froze at the sight. Could theConsul's plea for me have been so distasteful to her?
"Monsieur," she repeated, every word a poniard, "how did you darebring me such a message!"
I found no words to answer her, for if the message was what I hadhoped, then I began to wonder how I had dared, though my spirit, asproud as hers, brooked not that she should take it as an insult. Butshe did not wait for any answer.
"You!" she said, with inexpressible bitterness. "Has wearing the FirstConsul's uniform so changed you from the American gentleman I onceknew that you delight to humiliate a poor and helpless lady ofFrance?"
"Mademoiselle la Comtesse," I said coldly, for still the foolish ideaclung to my brain that the First Consul had wished to further my suit,and that mademoiselle had regarded it as humiliating that I should sopresume, "I know not the contents of the First Consul's note, but Ithink la Comtesse knows I would never willingly humiliate her."
"You know not!" and she half extended the note toward me, as if toshow it to me, and then drew it quickly back, a sudden change in hermanner from proud anger to shrinking shame. She turned to hercompanion and said in a cool tone of command:
"You may wait for me, Henriette, in the blue salon; I have somethingto say to Monsieur."
Henriette seemed to hesitate. No doubt in France it was not permittedto see a young gentleman alone, or perhaps Henriette had instructionsfrom the duchesse to be ever on guard when she herself could not bepresent. Mademoiselle saw her hesitation.
"Go!" she said haughtily, and I believe no being on earth would havedared disobey that ringing tone of command. Henriette shrank from it,and as she hastened to obey, mademoiselle added in a gentler tone:
"You may return in five minutes."
As she left the room, mademoiselle turned quickly to me, as if to loseno moment of the few she had given herself.
"Monsieur," she said, and her manner was the manner of the oldPelagie, "I hope you will forgive me for supposing for a moment thatyou knew the contents of the First Consul's note. I cannot show it toyou, but I am going to place a great trust in you. Monsieur, I cannotstay longer in France. Between the duchesse, the chevalier, and theFirst Consul, I will be driven to marry the chevalier, or--worse. Ah,Monsieur, if I had never left St. Louis!"
She had spoken hurriedly, as if fearing to lose courage otherwise, butshe looked not at me as she spoke, and her face was dyed with painfulblushes. A horrible suspicion of the contents of that note almostfroze my blood, but the next thought, that mademoiselle must fly fromFrance, sent it rushing hotly through my veins.
"Mademoiselle," I cried impetuously, "go home with me to America."
I saw her turn pale and draw herself up proudly. I did not dream shecould misunderstand me: I only thought she scorned so humble a suitor.And the thought set fire to a pride that was equal to her own.
"Mademoiselle," I said sternly, "I cannot set you upon a throne norplace a crown upon your head, but in America the wife of an honorablegentleman is a queen always, his heart is her throne, his home is herkingdom, his love is her crown."
To my amazement, she was all soft and drooping and rosy and smiling. Iwas ready to pick her up and fly with her that moment, so adorable wasshe in this mood, but she would not let me come near her.
"Monsieur," she said, looking up at me most sweetly, "to be the wifeof an honorable American gentleman, it seems to me, would be greathappiness; but you have not your father's permission to marry: hewould not
thank you for bringing home an emigre bride."
There came to me a sudden vision of my stern father. He wouldcertainly think that was a matter on which he should be firstconsulted. He was capable of making it very unpleasant for my wifeshould I bring one home unannounced, and if he did not cut me off witha shilling, he might easily put me on so small an allowance as wouldmake it impossible for me to maintain her in the luxury suited to herposition. I would be glad to work for her, early and late, but I knewnothing about earning my own bread, and while I was learning to earnhers she might suffer for the comforts of life.
Mademoiselle was quick to see my embarrassment, and I suppose herpride was touched, for when she spoke it was with her old hauteur.
"It is very kind of Monsieur to think of offering me a refuge, but myplans are made."
I hardly heard her, for I was busy with my own thoughts. I interruptedher eagerly:
"Mademoiselle, let me take you back to St. Louis and put you in Dr.Saugrain's care; then I will make all necessary arrangements with myfather and come for you."
"You did not understand me, Monsieur," she answered coldly; "my plansare made: I am going to my cousin the Duc d'Enghien."
"The Duc d'Enghien!" I repeated, in a dazed fashion. Had I not heardthat her cousin would marry her into one of the royal families ofEurope? This, then, was the knell to all my hopes! This was the reasonshe answered me so coldly: there was something better in store for herthan to be the wife of a simple American gentleman.
Well, I had never cherished any hopes; had I not told both my uncleFrancois and the First Consul so? Ah, but had I not? Had not everymoment since I had first known her been a fluctuation between hope anddespair? I had told the First Consul she had not given me any reasonto hope; but had she not? Did she not seem a few minutes ago almostwilling to become the wife of an American gentleman? What had changedher mood?
While I was trying to collect my scattered thoughts she spoke again,hurriedly:
"I am telling you this in great confidence, Monsieur, because I cantrust you. No one must know--least of all, any one in this house."
For a moment I could not speak. I turned away to the window and lookeddown once more into the courtyard with unseeing eyes. But it was nobeautiful vision of the future that dimmed their gaze this time: itwas the black darkness of despair that blinded them like a pall.
Then I made a great resolve. The Comtesse de Baloit, the Bourbonprincess, was not for such as I; but to mademoiselle, to my littlePelagie, I might still be loyal friend and offer devoted service. Iturned toward her again.
"Mademoiselle," I said, "I will go with you to the Duc d'Enghien. Iwill never leave you until I see you safe under the protection of yourcousin."
"What! The young officer of the First Consul aiding and abetting anemigre who flees from the First Consul! It is rank treason, Monsieur!"and Pelagie smiled with something of her old merry raillery.
"I am no longer an aide, Mademoiselle," I said seriously. "I have beencalled home by the illness of my father, and General Bonaparte hasrelieved me from duty."
Her quick sympathy was sweet to see and to feel, but I did not darelinger in its warmth, for the five minutes, I knew, must be nearly up.
"Now, Mademoiselle," I said, "since I am no longer in service to theFirst Consul, there will be no treason in helping you in yourflight--"
But she interrupted me: "No, Monsieur, it is not necessary; the Princede Polignac has made every arrangement and will see me safe to mycousin."
"The Prince de Polignac!" I exclaimed, in surprise. "But he is inexile, and almost as much under the First Consul's ban as Cadoudalhimself; how can he help you?"
In my astonishment that she should think of relying upon Polignac,whose life I believed would be forfeit if he dared to enter Paris, Ihad unconsciously spoken his name with raised voice. We had heretoforebeen speaking almost in whispers for fear of a possible listener. As Iuttered his name Pelagie started and looked nervously toward the doorof the blue salon.
"I beg you to be careful, Monsieur," she said anxiously. "As you say,his life would be forfeit if any one suspected his presence in Paris.I do not know that he is here, but I am hourly expecting to hear fromhim. There is no one in the world I would have trusted this secret tobut you, and I am relying on your discretion as well as your honor."
I bowed my thanks, grateful for her confidence and ashamed of theindiscretion that might so easily have betrayed her secret. But I hadnot gained my point.
"You will let me help in this flight, too, Mademoiselle! It is a greatperil you are undertaking, and one more sword, whose owner willlightly risk his life for you, cannot come amiss."
But she only shook her head and whispered, "It is impossible," and atthat moment Henriette entered the room.
"Mademoiselle la Comtesse," she said timidly (I fear Pelagie must havebeen at times something of a little tyrant, to make her companionstand in such awe of her), "I have stayed away, not five minutes, butten. I come to remind you that the hour has arrived at which Madame laDuchesse returns."
"Thanks, my good Henriette," said Pelagie, sweetly; "it is true, and Ihad forgotten it."
She turned quickly to me: "You must go at once, Monsieur! It is muchbetter the duchesse should not find you here."
"And can I not see you again? Shall I never see you again?" I askedeagerly, in English.
"No, no! Do not try--I will send word," she answered, also inEnglish, and then put out her hand, "Go, Monsieur," she said inFrench, "and farewell!"
I took her hand and bent low over it.
"Farewell, Mademoiselle," I said, for it cut me to the quick that shehad not said "Au revoir," as she had said it on La Belle Riviere.
Down in the courtyard, in the act of throwing my leg over Fatima'sback, there rode under the arch of the entrance the countryman who hadovertaken us in the morning, leading the magnificent horse he had saidwas for Mademoiselle la Comtesse, and riding another. It was notstrange that he should be bringing mademoiselle her hunter, but itstruck me as somewhat strange that the moment he caught sight of me aquick scowl should darken his brow and as quickly be cleared away: asif it had come unbidden and been driven away from a sense ofexpediency. As I passed him on the way out he touched his cap to mepolitely, and the sleeve of his rough jerkin falling away a little inthe act, I thought I caught a glimpse of a lace wrist-ruffle.
"Perhaps Caesar was not mistaken, after all," I said to myself; "if hewears lace ruffles at his wrist he may well wear a gold belt andponiard at his waist. A strange countryman, forsooth!" And a secretuneasiness that I could neither explain nor dismiss returned to me asoften as he came into my thoughts.