Chapter IX
GOSSIP AND COUNSEL
My eventful journey was over at last. I sat in my hotel window lookingout upon brilliant Paris, which had, in a moment, recovered all itsgaiety, and more than its accustomed bustle. Everyone had read of thekind of excitement that followed the catastrophe of Napoleon, and thesecond restoration of the Bourbons. I need not, therefore, even if, atthis distance, I could, recall and describe my experiences andimpressions of the peculiar aspect of Paris, in those strange times. Itwas, to be sure, my first visit. But often as I have seen it since, Idon't think I ever saw that delightful capital in a state, pleasurablyso excited and exciting.
I had been two days in Paris, and had seen all sorts of sights, andexperienced none of that rudeness and insolence of which otherscomplained from the exasperated officers of the defeated French army.
I must say this, also. My romance had taken complete possession of me;and the chance of seeing the object of my dream gave a secret anddelightful interest to my rambles and drives in the streets andenvirons, and my visits to the galleries and other sights of themetropolis.
I had neither seen nor heard of Count or Countess, nor had the Marquisd'Harmonville made any sign. I had quite recovered the strangeindisposition under which I had suffered during my night journey.
It was now evening, and I was beginning to fear that my patricianacquaintance had quite forgotten me, when the waiter presented me thecard of "Monsieur Droqville"; and, with no small elation and hurry, Idesired him to show the gentleman up.
In came the Marquis d'Harmonville, kind and gracious as ever.
"I am a night-bird at present," said he, so soon as we had exchanged thelittle speeches which are usual. "I keep in the shade during thedaytime, and even now I hardly ventured to come in a close carriage. Thefriends for whom I have undertaken a rather critical service, have soordained it. They think all is lost if I am known to be in Paris. First,let me present you with these orders for my box. I am so vexed that Icannot command it oftener during the next fortnight; during my absence Ihad directed my secretary to give it for any night to the first of myfriends who might apply, and the result is, that I find next to nothingleft at my disposal."
I thanked him very much.
"And now a word in my office of Mentor. You have not come here, ofcourse, without introductions?"
I produced half-a-dozen letters, the addresses of which he looked at.
"Don't mind these letters," he said. "I will introduce you. I will takeyou myself from house to house. One friend at your side is worth manyletters. Make no intimacies, no acquaintances, until then. You young menlike best to exhaust the public amusements of a great city, beforeembarrassing yourselves with the engagements of society. Go to allthese. It will occupy you, day and night, for at least three weeks. Whenthis is over, I shall be at liberty, and will myself introduce you tothe brilliant but comparatively quiet routine of society. Place yourselfin my hands; and in Paris remember, when once in society, you are alwaysthere."
I thanked him very much, and promised to follow his counsels implicitly.He seemed pleased, and said: "I shall now tell you some of the placesyou ought to go to. Take your map, and write letters or numbers upon thepoints I will indicate, and we will make out a little list. All theplaces that I shall mention to you are worth seeing."
In this methodical way, and with a great deal of amusing and scandalousanecdote, he furnished me with a catalogue and a guide, which, to aseeker of novelty and pleasure, was invaluable.
"In a fortnight, perhaps in a week," he said, "I shall be at leisure tobe of real use to you. In the meantime, be on your guard. You must notplay; you will be robbed if you do. Remember, you are surrounded, here,by plausible swindlers and villains of all kinds, who subsist bydevouring strangers. Trust no one but those you know."
I thanked him again, and promised to profit by his advice. But my heartwas too full of the beautiful lady of the Belle Etoile, to allow ourinterview to close without an effort to learn something about her. Itherefore asked for the Count and Countess de St. Alyre, whom I had hadthe good fortune to extricate from an extremely unpleasant row in thehall of the inn.
Alas! he had not seen them since. He did not know where they werestaying. They had a fine old house only a few leagues from Paris; but hethought it probable that they would remain, for a few days at least, inthe city, as preparations would, no doubt, be necessary, after so longan absence, for their reception at home.
"How long have they been away?"
"About eight months, I think."
"They are poor, I think you said?"
"What _you_ would consider poor. But, Monsieur, the Count has anincome which affords them the comforts and even the elegancies of life,living as they do, in a very quiet and retired way, in this cheapcountry."
"Then they are very happy?"
"One would say they _ought_ to be happy."
"And what prevents?"
"He is jealous."
"But his wife--she gives him no cause."
"I am afraid she does."
"How, Monsieur?"
"I always thought she was a little too--_a great deal_ too--"
"Too _what_, Monsieur?"
"Too handsome. But although she has remarkable fine eyes, exquisitefeatures, and the most delicate complexion in the world, I believe thatshe is a woman of probity. You have never seen her?"
"There was a lady, muffled up in a cloak, with a very thick veil on, theother night, in the hall of the Belle Etoile, when I broke that fellow'shead who was bullying the old Count. But her veil was so thick I couldnot see a feature through it!" My answer was diplomatic, you observe."She may have been the Count's daughter. Do they quarrel?"
"Who, he and his wife?"
"Yes."
"A little."
"Oh! and what do they quarrel about?"
"It is a long story; about the lady's diamonds. They are valuable--theyare worth, La Perelleuse says, about a million of francs. The Countwishes them sold and turned into revenue, which he offers to settle asshe pleases. The Countess, whose they are, resists, and for a reasonwhich, I rather think, she can't disclose to him."
"And pray what is that?" I asked, my curiosity a good deal piqued.
"She is thinking, I conjecture, how well she will look in them when shemarries her second husband."
"Oh?--yes, to be sure. But the Count de St. Alyre is a good man?"
"Admirable, and extremely intelligent."
"I should wish so much to be presented to the Count: you tell me he'sso--"
"So agreeably married. But they are living quite out of the world. Hetakes her now and then to the Opera, or to a public entertainment; butthat is all."
"And he must remember so much of the old _regime_, and so many ofthe scenes of the revolution!"
"Yes, the very man for a philosopher, like you! And he falls asleepafter dinner; and his wife don't. But, seriously, he has retired fromthe gay and the great world, and has grown apathetic; and so has hiswife; and nothing seems to interest her now, not even--her husband!"
The Marquis stood up to take his leave.
"Don't risk your money," said he. "You will soon have an opportunity oflaying out some of it to great advantage. Several collections of reallygood pictures, belonging to persons who have mixed themselves up in thisBonapartist restoration, must come within a few weeks to the hammer. Youcan do wonders when these sales commence. There will be startlingbargains! Reserve yourself for them. I shall let you know all about it.By-the-by," he said, stopping short as he approached the door, "I was sonear forgetting. There is to be next week, the very thing you wouldenjoy so much, because you see so little of it in England--I mean a_bal masque_, conducted, it is said, with more than usual splendor.It takes place at Versailles--all the world will be there; there is sucha rush for cards! But I think I may promise you one. Good-night! Adieu!"
The Room in the Dragon Volant Page 9