by Eugène Sue
“I don’t doubt it. You must suit them wonderfully well. I am doing them a signal service, for they will find in you — all that is lacking in me.”
“You are entirely too modest, my dear marquis.”
“Quite the contrary, my dear baron; so as soon as Olivier’s and Ernestine’s marriage contract is signed, I shall resign my candidacy in your favour.”
A servant, entering at this moment, announced that M. Olivier Raymond wished to see M. de la Rochaiguë.
“Ask M. Raymond to wait a moment,” replied the baron, and the servant left the room.
“Now, baron, remember that this is a very important, as well as delicate, matter,” said the marquis. “Do not forget any of my instructions, and, above all, do not evince any surprise at M. Raymond’s answers, no matter how extraordinary they may appear. I will explain everything after your interview with him is over.”
“It will be comparatively easy for me to show no surprise at anything I see or hear, marquis, inasmuch as I am very much in the dark with regard to the whole affair myself.”
“You will be thoroughly enlightened soon, I tell you. But, by the way, be sure not to forget about the work M. Olivier did for the steward of the Château de Beaumesnil, near Luzarches.”
“I shall not forget that, for I intend to introduce the subject in that way; and permit me to say that I am to start out with a colossal lie, my dear marquis.”
“But, as this colossal lie is sure to bring out the truth in the most incontrovertible fashion, you need feel no scruples! You will certainly have no cause to regret it, either, for what is about to occur will be quite as much to your advantage as to that of Mlle. de Beaumesnil, perhaps. I am going to summon her now, and do not have M. Olivier ushered in until after you know that we are in the next room, remember.”
“Oh, I understand all about that. Go at once, my dear marquis, and use the back stairs. It is the shortest way, and M. Olivier, who is waiting in the library, will not see you.”
The marquis complied with these instructions, and soon found himself in Mlle. de Beaumesnil’s apartments.
“Ah, M. de Maillefort,” exclaimed Ernestine, her face radiant, and her eyes still filled with tears of joy, “Herminie has told me all. Her happiness seems certain to equal mine, — if mine is realised.”
“Come quick, my child,” exclaimed the hunchback. “M. Olivier is up-stairs now.”
“Herminie can accompany me, can she not, M. de Maillefort? She will be near me to keep up my courage—”
“Your courage?”
“Yes, for now I confess that, in spite of myself, I am sorry that I consented to this test.”
“But was not this test necessary to overcome Olivier’s scruples, my dear child? Remember, too, that these scruples are probably the most dangerous obstacles you will have to overcome now.”
“Alas! that is only too true,” said Mlle. de Beaumesnil, sadly.
“Then come, my child, come at once. Herminie shall accompany you. She must be the first to congratulate you.”
“Or to console me,” added Ernestine, unable to conquer her fears. “But it is better I should know my fate as soon as possible,” she continued, resolutely. “Let us go up to my guardian’s apartments at once, M. de Maillefort.”
Three minutes afterwards, Ernestine, Herminie, and M. de Maillefort were in the baron’s parlour, which was separated from his study only by a closely drawn portière, which the hunchback opened a little way in order to inform M. de la Rochaiguë that they were there.
“Very well,” replied the baron.
He rang the bell.
“Show M. Olivier Raymond in,” he said to the servant who answered the summons, and who almost immediately announced:
“M. Olivier Raymond, sir.”
On hearing Olivier enter the adjoining room, Ernestine turned as pale as death, and, seizing with one hand the hand of Herminie, and with the other the hand of M. de Maillefort, she whispered, tremblingly:
“Oh, stay close by me, I entreat you. Do not leave me. Oh, my God, what a solemn moment this is!”
“Hush! Olivier is speaking,” whispered M. de Maillefort; “let us listen. We must not miss a word.”
And all three listened, with breathless anxiety, to the following conversation between Olivier and M. de la Rochaiguë.
CHAPTER XXVI.
A CRUCIAL MOMENT.
WHEN OLIVIER RAYMOND entered M. de la Rochaiguë’s study, his face expressed astonishment, mingled with a lively curiosity.
The baron bowed courteously, and, after having motioned his visitor to a seat, inquired:
“Is it to M. Olivier Raymond that I have the honour of speaking?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“A second lieutenant in the Third Hussars?”
“The same, monsieur.”
“From the letter I had the honour to write you, monsieur, you know that I am—”
“M. le Baron de la Rochaiguë, monsieur, though I have not the honour of your acquaintance. May I now inquire to what important personal matter you referred in your recent letter?”
“Certainly, monsieur. Pray be kind enough to give me your close attention, and, above all, not to be surprised at any singular, strange, and extraordinary facts which I may have the honour to communicate.”
Olivier gazed at the baron with such evident astonishment that Mlle. de Beaumesnil’s guardian cast an involuntary glance towards the portière, behind which Herminie, Ernestine, and M. de Maillefort were listening to the conversation.
“Monsieur,” continued the baron, again turning to Olivier, “a few weeks ago you were at a château, near Luzarches, assisting a master mason, who had undertaken some repairs upon this property, in making his estimates.”
“That is true, monsieur,” replied Olivier, little suspecting the import of all this.
“After these estimates were finished, you remained several days to assist the steward in straightening up his accounts, did you not?”
“That is also true, monsieur.”
“This château,” resumed the baron, with an air of great importance, “belongs to Mlle. de Beaumesnil, the richest heiress in France.”
“I was so informed during my stay there. But may I know the object of these questions?”
“In one moment, monsieur; but will you first oblige me by glancing over this document?”
And the baron took from his desk a folded paper and handed it to Olivier.
While the young man was hastily perusing this document, the baron said:
“You will see by this document, which is a certified copy of the deliberations of the family council, convoked after the death of the late Comtesse de Beaumesnil, you will see, I repeat, from this document, that I am the legally appointed guardian and trustee of Mlle. de Beaumesnil.”
“I perceive so,” replied Olivier, returning the document, “but I fail to see that this fact interests me in any way.”
“It was of the utmost importance that you should be enlightened as to my legal, official, and judicial connection with Mlle. de Beaumesnil, in order that what I may have the honour to say to you on the subject of my ward will be invested with irresistible, unmistakable, and incontestable authority in your eyes.”
This flow of words, monotonous and measured as the movements of a pendulum, was beginning to make Olivier all the more impatient, as he could not imagine whither all these grave preliminaries were tending.
In fact, he gazed at the baron with such a bewildered air that M. de la Rochaiguë said to himself:
“One might really suppose that I was talking Hebrew to him. He evinces so little emotion on hearing the name of Mlle. de Beaumesnil that one would suppose he did not even know her. What does all this mean? That cunning devil of a marquis was right when he told me that I must be prepared for very surprising developments.”
“May I again inquire in what possible way the fact that you are, or are not, Mlle. de Beaumesnil’s guardian interests me?” said Olivier, with ill-su
ppressed impatience.
“Now for the lie,” the baron said to himself. “Let us see what effect it will have.”
Then he added aloud:
“You made quite a long stay at the Château de Beaumesnil?”
“I did, as I told you some time ago,” responded Olivier, with growing impatience.
“You probably were not aware that Mlle. de Beaumesnil was at the château at the same time that you were.”
“Mlle. de Beaumesnil?”
“Yes, monsieur,” replied the baron, imperturbably, satisfied that he was lying with true diplomatic ease and assurance; “yes, monsieur, Mlle. de Beaumesnil was at the château while you were there.”
“But I was told that the young lady was in a foreign country, monsieur; besides, I saw no one at the château.”
“That does not surprise me at all, monsieur. The fact is, Mlle. de Beaumesnil wished to spend the early days of her mourning for her mother at this château, and as she desired complete solitude, every one on the estate was requested to keep her arrival a profound secret.”
“Then it is not strange that I should have been ignorant of it, particularly as I stayed in the house of the steward, quite a little distance from the château. But once more, let me ask—”
“I beg you will not be impatient, monsieur, but listen to me with the closest attention, for the matter to be considered is, I repeat, of the greatest, gravest, and highest importance to you.”
“The man nearly drives me mad by his absurd and senseless repetitions!” Olivier mentally exclaimed. “What on earth is he driving at? What possible interest have I in Mlle. de Beaumesnil and her château?”
“The master mason by whom you were employed,” continued the baron, suavely, “told our steward that the proceeds of the labour you imposed upon yourself during your leave were to be devoted to aiding your uncle, for whom you felt an almost filial affection.”
“Good Heavens, monsieur, why should any importance be attached to such a trivial thing as that? Let us get at the facts of the case.”
“The fact is just this, monsieur,” resumed the baron, impressively, and with an almost solemn gesture, “your generous conduct towards your uncle was reported to Mlle. de Beaumesnil by her steward.”
“Well, what if it was!” exclaimed Olivier, whose patience was now completely exhausted. “What is your object in apprising me of the fact?”
“My object is to let you know that mademoiselle is one of the noblest, best-hearted young ladies in the world, and, being such, is more keenly appreciative of generous acts in others than the majority of people; so when she heard of your devotion to your uncle, she was so touched by it that she desired to see you.”
“See me?” repeated Olivier, incredulously.
“Yes, monsieur, my ward wished to see you, but without being seen by you; she was anxious, too, to hear you talk, and, with the aid of her steward, managed to act the part of an unseen auditor at several of your conversations, both with the steward and the master mason by whom you were employed. The strict integrity and nobility of your sentiments were so clearly revealed in these conversations, that my ward was as deeply impressed by your nobility of character as by your pleasing personal attributes, and—”
“Monsieur,” interrupted Olivier, turning crimson, “I can scarcely believe that a man of your age and position could find any amusement in such unseemly jesting, and yet I do not suppose for one moment that you are speaking seriously.”
“I had the honour, monsieur, to submit for your inspection the documentary evidence that I am Mlle. de Beaumesnil’s legally appointed guardian in order that you might give full credence to my words. I subsequently warned you that what I had to say might appear singular, strange, even extraordinary to you, and you surely can not suppose that a man of my age, position, and social prominence would feel any inclination to trifle with the sacred interests entrusted to him or to make as honourable a young man as yourself the victim of a practical joke.”
“So be it, monsieur,” replied Olivier, pacified by this assurance on the part of the baron, “I confess I was wrong to suppose, even for an instant, that you were capable of such a thing, and yet—”
“Once again will you kindly allow me to remind you of my warning that I had some very extraordinary things to impart,” said the baron, again interrupting Olivier. “Now, with your permission, I will proceed with my explanation. Mlle. de Beaumesnil is sixteen years of age. She is the richest heiress in France, consequently,” added the baron, emphasising the words strongly and giving Olivier a meaning look, “consequently she need not trouble herself in the least about the pecuniary condition of the man she will choose for a husband. She desires, above all, to marry a man who pleases her, and who she feels will assure her future happiness. As regards his name and social position, provided his name and social position are honourable and honoured, Mlle. de Beaumesnil is content. Do you understand me at last, monsieur?”
“I have listened to you with the closest attention, M. le baron. I understand perfectly that Mlle. de Beaumesnil intends to marry to her own liking, without much, or, indeed, any regard to the rank and pecuniary condition of the man of her choice. She is perfectly right, I think; but why should I be told all this, — I, who have never met Mlle. de Beaumesnil in my life, and who probably never shall?”
“I have told you this, M. Olivier Raymond, because Mlle. de Beaumesnil is persuaded that in you are united all the attributes she most desires in a husband; so, after having made the most careful inquiries concerning you, — with results which were most flattering to yourself, I must admit, — I, as the guardian of Mlle. de Beaumesnil, am deputised, authorised, and commissioned to offer you her hand in marriage.”
The baron might have gone on a good while longer without any interruption from Olivier.
Though the latter was astounded by what he had just heard, he could no longer suppose that this was a hoax on the part of M. de la Rochaiguë, who, in spite of his absurd flights of oratory, was really a grave, dignified man, with perfect manners.
On the other hand, how could he believe, — without an immense amount of conceit, and conceit was not one of Olivier’s besetting sins, by any means, — how could he believe that the richest heiress in France had so suddenly lost her heart to him?
A minute or two passed before Olivier spoke. When he did, it was to say:
“I am sure you will excuse my silence and my bewilderment, monsieur, as you, yourself, fully realised that you had some very extraordinary revelations to make—”
“Do not hurry yourself in the least, monsieur. Take plenty of time to recover yourself, for I can very easily understand the mental agitation such a proposition must excite. I should add, however, that Mlle. de Beaumesnil knows perfectly well that you cannot accept her offer until after you have seen her and made her acquaintance. So, if you desire it, I will present you to my ward, and it is my earnest desire that you will both find in your mutual acquaintance a guaranty, hope, and certainty of future happiness.”
After which peroration, the baron said to himself:
“Thank Heaven, that is over! Now, I shall discover the answer to this enigma which seems more and more incomprehensible every minute.”
Up to this time, Mlle. de Beaumesnil, Herminie, and the hunchback had listened to the conversation in breathless silence. Herminie now understood for the first time the twofold object of the test to which M. de Maillefort had felt it necessary to subject Olivier; but Ernestine, in spite of her confidence in the nobility of the young officer’s character, was in torture, as she awaited Olivier’s reply to the baron’s dazzling offer. The temptation, alas! was so great. How few persons would be able to resist it! Was there any living man who would not forget or ignore a promise made to an unattractive, penniless, and friendless girl, and eagerly embrace the opportunity to acquire colossal wealth?
“Mon Dieu! I tremble, in spite of myself,” murmured Ernestine. “The renunciation we expect of M. Olivier is above human strength,
perhaps. Alas! alas! why did I consent to this test?”
“Courage, my child,” whispered the hunchback, “think only of the happiness and admiration you will feel if Olivier realises our expectations. But hush, he is going to reply.”
With a half frenzied movement, Ernestine threw herself into Herminie’s arms, and it was thus that the two girls, trembling with fear and hope, awaited Olivier’s answer.
The young man could no longer doubt that this most remarkable offer had been made in all seriousness; but unable to explain it on the ground of personal merit, — for Olivier was an extremely modest man, — he attributed it to one of those caprices not uncommon in romantic young persons whose exorbitant wealth places them in an exceptional position, — caprices which in many cases amount to positive eccentricity.
“Monsieur,” Olivier began, in a firm voice, after quite a long silence, “though the proposition you have just made to me is so strange, so entirely beyond the bounds of possibility, I might almost say, I give you my word of honour that, inexplicable as it seems to me, I believe in its sincerity.”
“You can, monsieur, that is the important thing; that is all I ask of you.”
“I do, and I shall make no attempt to fathom the incomprehensible reasons which led Mlle. de Beaumesnil to think of me even for an instant.”
“Pardon me, but I have already explained these reasons, monsieur.”
“Though I am not particularly modest, these reasons seem to me far from adequate; besides, I have no right to avail myself of this too flattering offer, for — for it is impossible for me — I will not say to accept Mlle. de Beaumesnil’s hand — such an important act must necessarily depend upon a thousand unforeseen contingencies, but to—”
“I give you my word of honour, monsieur, that it depends only upon yourself,” said the baron, in such grave tones that Olivier could not fail to be deeply impressed, “understand me, upon yourself, absolutely and entirely. And, if you desire it, I will introduce you to the young lady before an hour has elapsed. It will then be impossible for you to feel the slightest doubt in regard to — to the sincerity of the offer I have just made you.”