by Eugène Sue
“Monsieur,” replied Olivier, who was evidently quite as much incensed as embarrassed by this question put to him in the presence of several entire strangers,— “monsieur, I fail to see either the necessity or the propriety of the question you just addressed to me.”
“I am, nevertheless, obliged to appeal to the well-known honesty, frankness, and sincerity of the honourable witness,” said the marquis, solemnly, “and adjure him to answer this question: Did I, or did I not, offer him the hand of my ward, Mlle. de Beaumesnil?”
“Well, yes, monsieur,” answered Olivier, impatiently, “you did.”
“And did not M. Olivier Raymond clearly, positively, and categorically decline this offer?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Did not the honourable witness state, as the reason for this refusal, the fact that his heart and honour were alike bound by an engagement that would assure his happiness for life? Were these not, in substance, this honourable gentleman’s own words?”
“It is true, monsieur, and, thanks be to God! what was then my dearest hope becomes a reality to-day,” added the young man with an eloquent look at Ernestine.
“Such disinterestedness is positively inconceivable,” said the Duchesse de Senneterre to her daughter, sotto voce. “It was associating with such people that spoiled our poor Gerald so.”
Mlle. de Senneterre cast down her eyes and dared not answer her mother, who continued:
“But I fail to understand the situation. If this heroic gentleman declined Mlle. de Beaumesnil, what are she and that idiotic guardian of hers doing here? It is too much of a puzzle for me. Let us wait and see.”
In spite of the pride and delight that this public exposition of Olivier’s noble conduct excited in Ernestine’s heart, she was by no means entirely reassured in regard to the scruples he might feel when he discovered that his little embroideress was Mlle. de Beaumesnil.
“I have now only to thank M. Olivier Raymond for the very honest, explicit, and straightforward manner in which he has answered the questions that have been addressed to him,” said the baron, reseating himself, “and to request this honourable assemblage to kindly take full cognisance of my young friend’s noble words.”
“Why the devil does that long-toothed, pompous creature have to put in his oar?” whispered Commander Bernard to Olivier, who was standing beside him.
“I haven’t the slightest idea, uncle. I am quite as much surprised to find the man here as you are, and why he should desire to refer to the offer he made me now, I cannot imagine.”
“Oh, well, it can have no other ill effect than to make your dear Ernestine still more fond of you on learning that you sacrificed a colossal fortune on account of your love for her.”
“It is just this sort of publicity given to a very natural act that so annoys me,” replied Olivier.
“You are right, my boy,” chimed in the old officer. “One does such things as that for one’s own approval, not for the approval of others.”
Then, turning to the Duc de Senneterre, he added:
“Say, M. Gerald, that little hunchback seated beside the notary is the marquis you were telling us about, is it not?”
“Yes, commander.”
“It is very odd. Sometimes he looks as cunning as a fox, and sometimes as kind and gentle as a child. See how tenderly he is gazing at Mlle. Herminie now.”
“M. de Maillefort has as noble a heart as yours, commander. That means everything.”
“Hush, Gerald,” whispered Olivier, “the notary is rising. He is about to read your contract.”
“It is a mere form,” said Gerald. “The contract is of very little consequence; the real conditions Herminie and I long since settled between ourselves.”
The excitement created by M. de la Rochaiguë’s interruption having subsided, the notary began to read Herminie’s and Gerald’s marriage contract; but when, after the customary preliminaries, the notary came to the names and occupations of the parties, M. de Maillefort remarked to him, smiling:
“Skip all that, monsieur, if you please; we know the names. Let us get to the important point, the settlement of pecuniary interests between the parties.”
“Very well, M. le marquis,” replied the notary.
So he continued:
“‘It is agreed by this contract that any property which either of the aforesaid parties now possesses, or may possess at any future time, belongs, and shall belong absolutely to that party, entirely independent of the other contracting party.’”
“It was you, my dear child,” the marquis said to Herminie, interrupting the notary, “who, when I explained to you, yesterday, the various methods of settling questions of pecuniary interest between husband and wife, insisted, from motives of delicacy, that each party should hold his or her property absolutely independent of the other, for possessing nothing yourself except the talent by which you have so honourably maintained yourself up to the present time, you refused absolutely the community of interests and property which M. de Senneterre is so anxious to have you accept.”
Herminie’s eyes drooped, and she blushed deeply, as she replied:
“I am almost certain that M. de Senneterre will excuse and understand my refusal, monsieur.”
Gerald bowed respectfully, and Berthe, his pretty sister, whispered delightedly to her mother:
“Mlle. Herminie’s sentiments certainly harmonise with her charming and noble face, do they not, mamma?”
“Certainly, oh, certainly,” replied Madame de Senneterre, absently; for she was saying to herself all the while: “By this delicacy of feeling, my daughter-in-law, little suspecting that the marquis intends to make her so rich, has virtually settled all her property upon herself, entirely independent of my son; but she loves him so much that, when she finds that she is rich, she is sure to change this state of affairs.”
The notary continued: “‘It is also hereby agreed that any male offspring that may result from this marriage shall add to their name of Senneterre that of Haut-Martel. This clause has been consented to by the parties aforesaid, at the request of Louis Auguste, Marquis de Maillefort, Prince Duc de Haut-Martel.’”
Herminie having made a slight movement as if of surprise, the hunchback said to her, glancing at Gerald:
“My dear child, this is a slight concession to ancestral pride, to which Gerald has given his consent, certain that you would have no objection to seeing your son bear, in addition to his own illustrious name, the name of a man who regards you and loves you as his own daughter.”
A look of respectful tenderness and gratitude from Herminie was sufficient answer, and the hunchback, turning to the notary, said:
“That is the concluding clause of the contract, is it not?”
“Yes, M. le marquis.”
“Then we can now proceed with the reading of Mlle. Ernestine’s contract, can we not,” asked the hunchback, “and sign both contracts at the same time, afterwards.”
“Certainly, M. le marquis,” replied the notary.
“Now comes our turn, my boy,” whispered the commander to his nephew. “What a pity it is that I haven’t a snug little fortune to settle upon you and that dear child in the contract. But alas! all I shall be able to bequeath to you, I’m afraid, is good old Mother Barbançon,” added the old officer, half sadly, half smilingly. “A queer wedding present she would be! I did think of selling our six tablespoons so I could make Ernestine a little present, but Mother Barbançon wouldn’t listen to it. Your wife would rather have the silver than jewelry, she said.”
“And Mother Barbançon was right, uncle. But hush. He is beginning to read our contract now,” for the notary, picking up the second contract, said aloud:
“Shall we also skip the names in this contract?”
“Yes, yes; go on,” responded the marquis.
“In that case, I come at once to the first and only clause relative to financial matters in this contract.”
“It is not likely to be a lengthy one,” w
hispered Commander Bernard.
“Permit me to interrupt you a moment, monsieur,” said Olivier, smiling. “This clause of the contract seems entirely superfluous to me, for, as I had the honour to tell you yesterday, I have nothing but my pay, and Mlle. Ernestine Vert-Puis possesses nothing, save her skill as an embroideress.”
“True, monsieur,” replied the notary, smiling in his turn, “but as one has to be married under some régime or other, I thought it advisable to adopt this one, and state in the contract that you married Mlle. Ernestine Vert-Puis under the community of goods régime, which stipulates that the husband and wife shall hold and enjoy their property in common.”
“It would be more correct to say that we married under the community of no-goods régime,” responded Olivier, gaily, “but it makes no difference. As it is customary, we accept the clause, do we not, Mlle. Ernestine?”
“Very willingly, M. Olivier,” replied Mlle. de Beaumesnil.
“So, monsieur,” continued the young man, laughing, “it is agreed that Mlle. Ernestine and I each turn our entire property into one common fund, — everything, from my one epaulette to her embroidery needle, — a complete mutual renunciation, as it were.”
“There will be only burdens to share,” muttered the commander, with a sigh. “Ah, I never before longed to be rich as I do to-day!”
“It is decided, then, that the clause stipulating for a community of property shall remain; so I will proceed,” said the notary.
“‘The parties aforesaid marry under the community of property régime, and, consequently, agree to share, hold, and enjoy in common all property, real or personal, of any value whatsoever, of which they may now or at any future time be possessed, in their own right, or by inheritance.’”
“By inheritance! Poor things! My cross and my old sword are all they have to expect from me, M. Gerald,” whispered the veteran.
“Oh, nonsense, commander,” replied Gerald, gaily. “Who knows but you may die a millionaire?”
But as the old officer, not sharing this hope, shook his head, the notary, turning to Ernestine and Olivier, asked:
“This provision is perfectly satisfactory to you, mademoiselle, and to you, monsieur?”
“Whatever is satisfactory to M. Olivier is satisfactory to me,” replied Mlle. de Beaumesnil.
“I think the arrangement perfect,” answered Olivier, gaily; “and I assure you that never in your life did you insert in any contract a clause that is less likely to excite controversy than this.”
“We will now proceed with the signing of the contracts,” said the notary, gravely, rising as he spoke.
Madame de Senneterre, having taken advantage of the general movement, to approach M. de la Rochaiguë, now said, like one completely bewildered:
“My dear baron, will you be kind enough to tell me what all this means?”
“What, madame la duchesse?”
“Why, all this mystery that is going on here.”
“It is one that brought me nearly to the verge of madness a few days ago, madame la duchesse.”
“But does M. Olivier really believe that Mlle. de Beaumesnil is a poor little embroideress?”
“Yes, madame.”
“But why did he refuse the offer you made him?”
“Because he loved another, madame.”
“And that other?”
“Was my ward.”
“What ward?”
“Why, Mlle. de Beaumesnil,” replied the baron, with a sort of ferocious joy, delighted to subject another person to the same torture to which the marquis had subjected him.
“Is it possible that you are trying to amuse yourself at my expense, M. le baron?” demanded the duchess, arrogantly.
“Madame la duchesse cannot suppose that I am capable of forgetting myself to such an extent as that.”
“Then what does all this mystery mean? And why was it necessary that M. Olivier should be made to repeat that he had refused Mlle. de Beaumesnil’s hand, though he is about to sign his marriage contract with her? and—”
“I promised M. de Maillefort I would keep his secret, so you must apply to him, madame la duchesse. He hasn’t his equal for solving enigmas.”
Despairing of obtaining any satisfaction from the baron, Madame de Senneterre approached M. de Maillefort, and asked:
“Well, marquis, may I know the object—”
“In five minutes you shall know all, my dear duchess,” replied the hunchback.
Then he turned, apparently to give some final instructions to the notary.
CHAPTER XXXII.
CONCLUSION.
AS THE LITTLE party approached the table where the two contracts lay, Mlle. de Beaumesnil said to Herminie, in subdued tones, but evidently with no little anxiety:
“Alas! the decisive moment has come! What will M. Olivier think? What will he do? If I had committed some terrible crime and it was about to be made public, I could not feel more anxious.”
“Courage, Ernestine. You can leave everything to M. de Maillefort without the slightest fear.”
If Ernestine experienced dire misgivings in regard to Olivier’s scruples, the hunchback was no less uneasy in regard to those of Herminie, who was still ignorant that she had figured in the marriage contract as the adopted daughter of the Marquis de Maillefort, Prince Duc de Haut-Martel.
So it was with considerable inward perturbation that the hunchback now approached the young girl and said:
“You are to sign first, my child.”
The notary presented a pen; the girl took it, and, with a hand trembling with joyful emotion, signed, “Herminie.”
“Well, my child, why do you stop there?” asked M. de Maillefort, as he saw her about to return the pen to the notary.
And as his protégée turned and looked at him in silent surprise, the hunchback continued:
“Go on, of course, my child, and sign yourself ‘Herminie de Maillefort.’”
“Ah, I understand now,” Gerald said to his mother, with profound emotion. “M. de Maillefort is the best and most generous of men.”
Herminie continued to gaze at the hunchback in speechless astonishment, but at last she said, hesitatingly:
“Why, monsieur, I cannot sign myself ‘Herminie de Maillefort.’ That name—”
“My child,” said the hunchback, in pleading tones, “have you not often told me that you felt a truly filial affection for me?”
“I do, indeed, monsieur.”
“And have you not more than once felt that you could best express your gratitude by telling me that I manifested all a father’s solicitude for you?”
“Oh, yes, the tenderest, most devoted father’s,” exclaimed the girl, earnestly.
“Then why should you not take my name?” asked the marquis, with a winning smile. “You have already promised that your son, if you have one, shall bear this name. Besides, are you not by your attachment to me, and by my affection for you, my adopted child? Then why should you not sign this contract as my adopted daughter?”
“I, monsieur?” exclaimed Herminie, unable to believe her own ears. “I your adopted daughter?”
“Yes; think of my audacity. I am famed for it, you know. I even had you so designated in the marriage contract.”
“What do you say, monsieur?”
“Tell me,” added the hunchback, with tears in his eyes, and in his most persuasive tones, “tell me, do you not think I have justly earned the great happiness of being able to say to every one, ‘This is my daughter?’ Will you refuse to honour still more, by bearing it, an ever honoured name?”
“Ah, monsieur,” said Herminie, unable to restrain her tears, “such kindness as yours—”
“Then sign at once, you obstinate child,” said the marquis, smiling, though his eyes were full of tears, “or else our friends here will perhaps imagine that a beautiful and charming creature like you is ashamed to have a poor hunchback like me even for an adopted father.”
“Ah, such a thought as that�
��” exclaimed Herminie, quickly.
“Then sign, sign at once!” urged the marquis.
And with an affectionate movement, he took Herminie’s hand, as if to guide her pen, and, drawing her closer, said in a low tone so as not to be overheard:
“Did not the loved one we both mourn implore me to be a father to her daughter?”
Deeply moved by this allusion to her mother, half stunned by this unexpected proposal, and finally vanquished by the affection and gratitude she felt for the marquis, the young girl with a trembling hand affixed the signature of Herminie de Maillefort to the document, little suspecting what a generous gift she was thus accepting from the hunchback, for she had no idea of the amount of his fortune.
Commander Bernard was so deeply affected by this scene, that, hastily approaching the hunchback, he said:
“Monsieur, I am a retired naval officer, and Olivier’s uncle. I have the honour of knowing you only by all the good I have heard of you through M. Gerald, and by the aid you so kindly rendered in securing Olivier’s promotion; but what you have just done for Mlle. Herminie shows such a generous heart that I beg you will allow me to take you by the hand.”
“Very gladly, I assure you, monsieur,” said the marquis, responding to the veteran’s advances with marked cordiality, “I, too, have the honour of knowing you only by the good I have heard of you through my dear Gerald, M. Olivier’s friend. I know, too, the sensible and high-minded advice you gave Gerald in relation to his marriage with Mlle. de Beaumesnil, and, as people of such a keen sense of honour are rare, I deem a meeting with you a most fortunate thing. And it is very pleasant to think that these meetings are likely to be frequent in the future,” added the hunchback, smiling, “for you love Ernestine and Olivier as devotedly as I love Herminie and Gerald, and we are certain to spend many a delightful hour with these charming young people.”
“Yes; as I have decided to live with Olivier and his wife, I shall see you very often, I hope.”