by Eugène Sue
“Perfectly so — and the best is, Adrienne does not at all suspect the doctor, who has known how, up to a certain point, to preserve her confidence. Moreover, a circumstance which appears to me inexplicable has come to our aid.”
“What do you allude to?”
“This morning, Mrs. Grivois went, according to my orders, to remind Adrienne that I expected her at noon, upon important business. As she approached the pavilion, Mrs. Grivois saw, or thought she saw, Adrienne come in by the little garden-gate.”
“What do you tell me? Is it possible? Is there any positive proof of it?” cried the marquis.
“Till now, there is no other proof than the spontaneous declaration of Mrs. Grivois: but whilst I think of it,” said the Princess, taking up a paper that lay before her, “here is the report, which, every day, one of Adrienne’s women makes to me.”
“The one that Rodin succeeded in introducing into your niece’s service?”
“The same; as this creature is entirely in Rodin’s hands, she has hitherto answered our purpose very well. In this report, we shall perhaps find the confirmation of what Mrs. Grivois affirms she saw.”
Hardly had the Princess glanced at the note, than she exclaimed almost in terror: “What do I see? Why, Adrienne is a very demon!”
“What now?”
“The bailiff at Cardoville, having written to my niece to ask her recommendation, informed her at the same time of the stay of the Indian prince at the castle. She knows that he is her relation, and has just written to her old drawing-master, Norval, to set out post with Eastern dresses, and bring Prince Djalma hither — the man that must be kept away from Paris at any cost.”
The marquis grew pale, and said to Mme. de Saint-Dizier: “If this be not merely one of her whims, the eagerness she displays in sending for this relation hither, proves that she knows more than you even suspected. She is ‘posted’ on the affair of the medals. Have a care — she may ruin all.”
“In that case,” said the princess, resolutely, “there is no room to hesitate. We must carry things further than we thought, and make an end this very morning.”
“Yes, though it is almost impossible.”
“Nay, all is possible. The doctor and M. Tripeaud are ours,” said the princess, hastily.
“Though I am as sure as you are of the doctor, or of M. Tripeaud, under present circumstances, we must not touch on the question of acting — which will be sure to frighten them at first — until after our interview with your niece. It will be easy, notwithstanding her cleverness, to find out her armor’s defect. If our suspicions should be realized — if she is really informed of what it would be so dangerous for her to know — then we must have no scruples, and above all no delay. This very day must see all set at rest. The time for wavering is past.”
“Have you been able to send for the person agreed on?” asked the princess, after a moment’s silence.
“He was to be here at noon. He cannot be long.”
“I thought this room would do very well for our purpose. It is separated from the smaller parlor by a curtain only behind which your man may be stationed.”
“Capital!”
“Is he a man to be depended on?”
“Quite so — we have often employed him in similar matters. He is as skillful as discreet.”
At this moment a low knock was heard at the door.
“Come in,” said the princess.
“Dr. Baleinier wishes to know if her Highness the Princess can receive him,” asked the valet-de-chambre.
“Certainly. Beg him to walk in.”
“There is also a gentleman that M. l’Abbe appointed to be here at noon, by whose orders I have left him waiting in the oratory.”
“’Tis the person in question,” said the marquis to the princess. “We must have him in first. ’Twould be useless for Dr. Baleinier to see him at present.”
“Show this person in first,” said the princess; “next when I ring the bell, you will beg Dr. Baleinier to walk this way: and, if Baron Tripeaud should call, you will bring him here also. After that, I am at home to no one, except Mdlle. Adrienne.” The servant went out.
(9) With regard to this text, a commentary upon it will be found in the Constitutions of the Jesuits, as follows: “In order that the habit of language may come to the help of the sentiments, it is wise not to say, ‘I have parents, or I have brothers;’ but to say, ‘I had parents; I had brothers.’” — General Examination, ; Constitutions. — Paulin; 1843. Paris.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. ADRIENNE’S ENEMIES.
THE PRINCESS DE Saint-Dizier’s valet soon returned, showing in a little, pale man, dressed in black, and wearing spectacles. He carried under his left arm a long black morocco writing-case.
The princess said to this man: “M. l’Abbe, I suppose, has already informed you of what is to be done?”
“Yes, your highness,” said the man in a faint, shrill, piping voice, making at the same time a low bow.
“Shall you be conveniently placed in this room?” asked the princess, conducting him to the adjoining apartment, which was only separated from the other by a curtain hung before a doorway.
“I shall do nicely here, your highness,” answered the man in spectacles, with a second and still lower bow.
“In that case, sir, please to step in here; I will let you know when it is time.”
“I shall wait your highness’s order.”
“And pray remember my instructions,” added the marquis, as he unfastened the loops of the curtain.
“You may be perfectly tranquil, M. l’Abbe.” The heavy drapery, as it fell, completely concealed the man in spectacles.
The princess touched the bell; some moments after, the door opened, and the servant announced a very important personage in this work.
Dr. Baleinier was about fifty years of age, middling size, rather plump, with a full shining, ruddy countenance. His gray hair, very smooth and rather long, parted by a straight line in the middle, fell flat over his temples. He had retained the fashion of wearing short, black silk breeches, perhaps because he had a well-formed leg; his garters were fastened with small, golden buckles, as were his shoes of polished morocco leather; his coat, waistcoat, and cravat were black, which gave him rather a clerical appearance; his sleek, white hand was half hidden beneath a cambric ruffle, very closely plaited; on the whole, the gravity of his costume did not seem to exclude a shade of foppery.
His face was acute and smiling; his small gray eye announced rare penetration and sagacity. A man of the world and a man of pleasure, a delicate epicure, witty in conversation, polite to obsequiousness, supple, adroit, insinuating, Baleinier was one of the oldest favorites of the congregational set of the Princess de Saint-Dizier. Thanks to this powerful support, its cause unknown, the doctor, who had been long neglected, in spite of real skill and incontestable merit, found himself, under the Restoration, suddenly provided with two medical sinecures most valuable, and soon after with numerous patients. We must add, that, once under the patronage of the princess, the doctor began scrupulously to observe his religious duties; he communicated once a week, with great publicity, at the high mass in Saint Thomas Aquinas Church.
At the year’s end, a certain class of patients, led by the example and enthusiasm of Madame de Saint-Dizier’s followers, would have no other physician than Doctor Baleinier, and his practice was now increased to an extraordinary degree. It may be conceived how important it was for the order, to have amongst its “plain clothes members” one of the most popular practitioners of Paris.
A doctor has in some sort a priesthood of his own. Admitted at all hours to the most secret intimacy of families, he knows, guesses, and is able to effect much. Like the priest, in short, he has the ear of the sick and the dying. Now, when he who cares for the health of the body, and he who takes charge of the health of the soul, understands each other, and render mutual aid for the advancement of a common interest, there is nothing (with certain exceptions), which they may
not extract from the weakness and fears of a sick man at the last gasp — not for themselves (the laws forbid it) — but for third parties belonging more or less to the very convenient class of men of straw. Doctor Baleinier was therefore one of the most active and valuable assistant members of the Paris Jesuits.
When he entered the room, he hastened to kiss the princess’s hand with the most finished gallantry.
“Always punctual, my dear M. Baleinier.”
“Always eager and happy to attend to your highness’s orders.” Then turning towards the marquis, whose hand he pressed cordially, he added: “Here we have you then at last. Do you know, that three months’ absence appears very long to your friends?”
“The time is as long to the absent as to those who remain, my dear doctor. Well! here is the great day, Mdlle. de Cardoville is coming.”
“I am not quite easy,” said the princess; “suppose she had any suspicion?”
“That’s impossible,” said M. Baleinier; “we are the best friends in the world. You know, that Mdlle. Adrienne has always had great confidence in me. The day before yesterday, we laughed a good deal, and as I made some observations to her, as usual, on her eccentric mode of life, and on the singular state of excitement in which I sometimes found her—”
“M. Baleinier never fails to insist on these circumstances, in appearance so insignificant,” said Madame de Saint-Dizier to the marquis with a meaning look.
“They are indeed very essential,” replied the other.
“Mdlle. Adrienne answered my observations,” resumed the doctor, “by laughing at me in the gayest and most witty manner; for I must confess, that this young lady has one of the aptest and most accomplished minds I know.”
“Doctor, doctor!” said Madame de Saint-Dizier, “no weakness!”
Instead of answering immediately, M. Baleinier drew his gold snuff-box from his waistcoat pocket, opened it, and took slowly a pinch of snuff, looking all the time at the princess with so significant an air, that she appeared quite reassured. “Weakness, madame?” observed he at last, brushing some grains of snuff from his shirt-front with his plump white hand; “did I not have the honor of volunteering to extricate you from this embarrassment?”
“And you are the only person in the world that could render us this important service,” said D’Aigrigny.
“Your highness sees, therefore,” resumed the doctor, “that I am not likely to show any weakness. I perfectly understand the responsibility of what I undertake; but such immense interests, you told me, were at stake—”
“Yes,” said D’Aigrigny, “interests of the first consequence.”
“Therefore I did not hesitate,” proceeded M. Baleinier; “and you need not be at all uneasy. As a man of taste, accustomed to good society, allow me to render homage to the charming qualities of Mdlle. Adrienne; when the time for action comes, you will find me quite as willing to do my work.”
“Perhaps, that moment may be nearer than we thought,” said Madame de Saint-Dizier, exchanging a glance with D’Aigrigny.
“I am, and will be, always ready,” said the doctor. “I answer for everything that concerns myself. I wish I could be as tranquil on every other point.”
“Is not your asylum still as fashionable — as an asylum can well be?” asked Madame de Saint-Dizier, with a half smile.
“On the contrary. I might almost complain of having too many boarders. It is not that. But, whilst we are waiting for Mdlle. Adrienne, I will mention another subject, which only relates to her indirectly, for it concerns the person who, bought Cardoville Manor, one Madame de la Sainte-Colombe, who has taken me for a doctor, thanks to Rodin’s able management.”
“True,” said D’Aigrigny; “Rodin wrote to me on the subject — but without entering into details.”
“These are the facts,” resumed the doctor. “This Madame de la Sainte Colombe, who was at first considered easy enough to lead, has shown herself very refractory on the head of her conversion. Two spiritual directors have already renounced the task of saving her soul. In despair, Rodin unslipped little Philippon on her. He is adroit, tenacious, and above all patient in the extreme — the very man that was wanted. When I got Madame de la Sainte-Colombe for a patient, Philippon asked my aid, which he was naturally entitled to. We agreed upon our plan. I was not to appear to know him the least in the world; and he was to keep me informed of the variations in the moral state of his penitent, so that I might be able, by the use of very inoffensive medicines — for there was nothing dangerous in the illness — to keep my patient in alternate states of improvement or the reverse, according as her director had reason to be satisfied or displeased — so that he might say to her: ‘You see, madame, you are in the good way! Spiritual grace acts upon your bodily health, and you are already better. If, on the contrary, you fall back into evil courses, you feel immediately some physical ail, which is a certain proof of the powerful influence of faith, not only on the soul, but on the body also?’”
“It is doubtless painful,” said D’Aigrigny, with perfect coolness, “to be obliged to have recourse to such means, to rescue perverse souls from perdition — but we must needs proportion our modes of action to the intelligence and the character of the individual.”
“By-the-bye, the princess knows,” resumed the doctor, “that I have often pursued this plan at St. Mary’s Convent, to the great advantage of the soul’s peace and health of some of our patients, being extremely innocent. These alternations never exceed the difference between ‘pretty well,’ and ‘not quite so well.’ Yet small as are the variations, they act most efficaciously on certain minds. It was thus with Madame de la Sainte-Colombe. She was in such a fair way of recovery, both moral and physical, that Rodin thought he might get Philippon to advise the country for his penitent, fearing that Paris air might occasion a relapse. This advice, added to the desire the woman had to play ‘lady of the parish,’ induced her to buy Cardoville Manor, a good investment in any respect. But yesterday, unfortunate Philippon came to tell me, that Madame de la Sainte-Colombe was about to have an awful relapse — moral, of course — for her physical health is now desperately good. The said relapse appears to have been occasioned by an interview she has had with one Jacques Dumoulin, whom they tell me you know, my dear abbe; he has introduced himself to her, nobody can guess how.”
“This Jacques Dumoulin,” said the marquis, with disgust, “is one of those men, that we employ while we despise. He is a writer full of gall, envy, and hate, qualities that give him a certain unmercifully cutting eloquence. We pay him largely to attack our enemies, though it is often painful to see principles we respect defended by such a pen. For this wretch lives like a vagabond — is constantly in taverns — almost always intoxicated — but, I must own, his power of abuse is inexhaustible, and he is well versed in the most abstruse theological controversies, so that he is sometimes very useful to us.”
“Well! though Madame de la Sainte-Colombe is hard upon sixty, it appears that Dumoulin has matrimonial views on her large fortune. You will do well to inform Rodin, so that he may be on his guard against the dark designs of this rascal. I really beg a thousand pardons for having so long occupied you with such a paltry affair — but, talking of St. Mary’s Convent,” added the doctor, addressing the princess, “may I take the liberty of asking if your highness has been there lately?”
The princess exchanged a rapid glance with D’Aigrigny, and answered: “Oh, let me see! Yes, I was there about a week ago.”
“You will find great changes then. The wall that was next to my asylum has been taken down, for they are going to build anew wing and a chapel, the old one being too small. I must say in praise of Mdlle. Adrienne” continued the doctor with a singular smile aside, “that she promised me a copy of one of Raphael’s Madonnas for this chapel.”
“Really? very appropriate!” said the princess. “But here it is almost noon, and M. Tripeaud has not come.”
“He is the deputy-guardian of Mdlle. de Cardoville, wh
ose property he has managed, as former agent of the count-duke,” said the marquis, with evident anxiety, “and his presence here is absolutely indispensable. It is greatly to be desired that his coming should precede that of Mdlle. de Cardoville, who may be here at any moment.”
“It is unlucky that his portrait will not do as well,” said the doctor, smiling maliciously, and drawing a small pamphlet from his pocket.
“What is that, doctor?” asked the princess.
“One of those anonymous sheets, which are published from time to time. It is called the ‘Scourge,’ and Baron Tripeaud’s portrait is drawn with such faithfulness, that it ceases to be satire. It is really quite life like; you have only to listen. The sketch is entitled: ‘TYPE OF THE LYNX SPECIES.’
“‘The Baron Tripeaud. — This man, who is as basely humble towards his social superiors, as he is insolent and coarse to those who depend upon him — is the living, frightful incarnation of the worst pardon of the moneyed and commercial aristocracy — one of the rich and cynical speculators, without heart, faith or conscience, who would speculate for a rise or fall on the death of his mother, if the death of his mother could influence the price of stocks.
“‘Such persons have all the odious vices of men suddenly elevated, not like those whom honest and patient labor has nobly enriched, but like those who owe their wealth to some blind caprice of fortune, or some lucky cast of the net in the miry waters of stock-jobbing.
“‘Once up in the world, they hate the people — because the people remind them of a mushroom origin of which they are ashamed. Without pity for the dreadful misery of the masses, they ascribe it wholly to idleness or debauchery because this calumny forms an excuse for their barbarous selfishness.
“‘And this is not all. On the strength of his well-filled safe, mounted on his right of the candidate, Baron Tripeaud insults the poverty and political disfranchisement — of the officer, who, after forty years of wars and hard service, is just able to live on a scanty pension — Of the magistrate, who has consumed his strength in the discharge of stern and sad duties, and who is not better remunerated in his litter days — Of the learned man who has made his country illustrious by useful labors; or the professor who has initiated entire generations in the various branches of human knowledge — Of the modest and virtuous country curate, the pure representative of the gospel, in its charitable, fraternal, and democratic tendencies, etc.