The Son of Monte-Cristo

by Jules Lermina

  CHAPTER XLVII.

  JANE ZELD.

  A thoroughly artistic atmosphere was that of Sabrau's studio. There wasnot a picture nor a picture frame, a bronze nor a bit of china that didnot attract attention. Uniformity had been carefully avoided--all tints,all forms, blended into one original whole.

  Goutran had arranged the place with his own hands for the fete, which,as Goutran said, had a double aim. He wished not only to return theprincely hospitality he had received, but to make of the affair aprivate exhibition of the works of his young friends; he himself onlyhung his gipsy. Rachel Marstens, the great actress, assisted by EmmaBruges, consented to do the honors. Every artistic celebrity acceptedhis invitations. Even the critics came, and were amiable.

  Comte Velleni was among the earliest arrivals. He was a fine-looking oldman, and extremely courteous to all the young artists, and as he wasvery wealthy, his compliments on their work excited many hopes. He wasnot alone. He was accompanied by his secretary, by whom the youngpainters were not favorably impressed. His eyes were deep-set underbushy eyebrows, his hair and beard were black as jet.

  "A bad looking fellow!" murmured one to another.

  The age of this individual was uncertain--he might have been fifty. Adeep scar ran across one cheek. His expression was crafty, his eyesshifting, and he kept in the background.

  There was a little stir when Monsieur and Mademoiselle de Laisangy wereannounced, for that same morning the official journal of the empire hadannounced the opening of the Banque de Credit Imperial, with a capitalof sixty million. Monsieur de Laisangy was the director of this newbank.

  Goutran advanced to meet this gentleman with an eagerness that wouldhave marred the interest which we feel in him had it not been explainedby the presence of the charming daughter of the banker, Carmen deLaisangy.

  Goutran had painted Carmen's portrait, which had excited muchcommendation at the Salon, to which fact was probably due the presenceof the banker and his daughter at this _soiree_.

  Carmen had no mother, and she had been brought up somewhat in theAmerican style, but as she was very beautiful and had committed none butthe most trifling indiscretions, many things were overlooked in herwhich in other girls would not have been tolerated.

  The banker was an old man and excessively thin, he held himself withEnglish stiffness; a muscular contraction affected his upper lip. Hestood well at Court. He had, it was said, made large loans at the timeof the _coup d'etat_ in '51, and Bonaparte's accomplices called himtheir friend.

  "I am deeply indebted to you, Mademoiselle," said Goutran, "for youracceptance of an invitation which I was almost afraid to send."

  Carmen was very pretty, as we have said. Her dress was cut very low, andrevealed too much of an admirably modelled bust. Her manner was not thatof a young girl, it was more assured. But she was charming.

  She laughed, and said, in reply, "You are my especial artist, you know,and history tells us that even queens visit their painters--"

  "For example, the Duchess of Ferrara!" said a young man to a friend, ina low voice. He had caught her words as he passed, and hazarded thisallusion, somewhat too broad, perhaps, to the visit paid by the Duchessto Titian, when she was painted in the costume of mother Eve. Heundoubtedly supposed that the young lady would not understand hisremark, and yet it was plain that she with difficulty restrained alaugh.

  She led Goutran to the picture gallery. "I am told," she said, "that youhave two great surprises for your guests, to-night."

  "Oh! no; only one. You have heard of Jane Zeld, that marvelous bird whohas come to us from Finland, Lapland, or some other place--we will callit Russia?"

  "But I was told that she had refused to sing in Paris atpresent--declined even to go to Compiegne."

  "Yes, but for you," and Goutran bowed low, "I have obtained what wasrefused to an Emperor!"

  He pressed Carmen's arm against his own, as he spoke.

  The girl turned and looked him full in the face for a moment. "Take meto my father," she said.

  Was it fancy, or did she emphasize the two words, "my father," in an oddsort of way?

  As in silence he obeyed her request, which though brief, was by no meansstern, a singular scene was taking place.

  Signor Fagiano, who talked little, was wandering about through thesalons. Suddenly he found himself face to face with Monsieur deLaisangy.

  Signor Fagiano started back, and half covered his face with his hand,but in turning to make good his retreat, he half stumbled and fell.

  The banker instinctively extended his hand to assist him. Fagiano bowedlow as he recovered himself, and went into another room.

  There was certainly nothing very remarkable in this incident, but Carmenstarted and instantly hastened to the side of the banker, who seemedcalmly indifferent to what had taken place. Seeing this, her anxiety, ifshe felt any, was dissipated, and she began to talk to Goutran.

  At this moment the footman announced two names: "Mademoiselle JaneZeld!" "The Vicomte de Monte-Cristo!"

  "You see, I did have two surprises for you," said Goutran.

  But suddenly he exclaimed, "My dear Monsieur de Laisangy, you are ill, Ifear--"

  "No, no," stammered the banker, "but it is very warm here, and I will goout on the terrace a while, if you will permit me."

  He left his daughter, who seemed to attach little importance to thissudden indisposition of her father's.

  Goutran went forward to receive his new guests. A murmur of admirationgreeted the lady--Jane Zeld, the cantatrice.

  She was tall and slender, and dressed in black tulle with crimson roses.She advanced with a smile on her lips. She was young, not more thantwenty-two, with dark hair raised over her brow like a diadem andfalling at the back of her head in loose braids. Her complexion wasclear but pale, her eyes were almond-shaped with long lashes and had asingular fixity of expression.

  Who was she? No one knew. She had appeared on the stage of public lifein a singular way. There had been a fire about two months before at oneof the theatres, and a musical evening had been organized for thebenefit of the victims.

  Society, which likes amusements and is willing to be benevolent at thesame time, had responded to the appeal, and on the evening of theperformance the hall was crowded. The principal attraction was thereturn to public life of a tenor, who had had a fit of the sulks and haddeserted the stage. He had promised to sing with the Diva a celebratedduet. When the audience had assembled a message arrived at the theatre.The Diva was ill, or pretended to be so, and now, at the last moment,announced that it was impossible to appear.

  This was terrible. The tenor was implored to sing alone, but hepositively refused, and the non-appearance of the two stars made theaffair an utter fiasco. Artists and journalists, director andsecretaries assembled in the _foyer_--all talked together in theirexcitement. The tenor, half lying on a couch, caressed his black beard,while he listened with nonchalance to the entreaties addressed to him.But the moment was rapidly approaching when the fatal announcement mustbe made to the audience.

  Presently a voice began to sing the jewel song from Faust. The singerwas at the piano in the _foyer_, but was so enveloped in black lace thatshe could hardly be seen. Her voice was so good, her method so perfect,that every one listened in delight. Even the tenor, for he was athorough musician, was completely carried away.

  The lady finished the song, then rising from her seat she stood leaningagainst the piano without the smallest embarrassment.

  The tenor went forward. "Madame," he said, "do you know the duet we wereabout to sing?"

  The singer reseated herself at the piano and playing a prelude, sang twoor three bars with exquisite expression.

  "Madame," began the tenor.

  "Mademoiselle," corrected the lady, raising her vail.

  "You have a hundred times more talent than Mademoiselle X."

  "We will not talk of her, and she must always remain in ignorance ofthis defection of one of her greatest admirers."

  But the feel
ing against the prima donna was that day of excessivebitterness, and every one agreed with the tenor.

  "Will you sing with me?" asked the tenor.

  The lady answered, "As this fete is for charity, I cannot decline."

  The director then said:

  "We will express our thanks later, dear lady; please give me your namethat I may make the announcement."

  The tenor lifted his head.

  "I will lead the lady on, and that is quite enough."

  When the public saw that the singer was not the celebrated X. they werefor a moment confounded, but the tenor was the guaranty, he could not bemistaken. The duet began; never had the tenor sang so well.

  The unknown was a thorough artist. She looked like a statue of Passion,as she stood at the piano, and her triumph was so great that it was thetalk of Paris for three days. But the strangest part of all was, thatafter receiving this ovation she disappeared. The reporters could notfind her. Finally one of them, more indefatigable than the others,discovered her in a small hotel on the Champs Elysees. Her name wasinscribed as Jane Zeld, from Russia, and she was accompanied by anintendant named Maslenes.

  The reporter, armed with this information, proceeded to concoct alegend. She belonged, he said, to a great family in Russia. She hadleft her home "for reasons which the _Journal_ was not at liberty toreveal."

  For a fortnight, managers and directors were on the _qui vive_, but as apoetical personage of importance took this time to commit suicide, thename of Jane Zeld was gradually forgotten.

  When two days before his fete, Goutran received a perfumed note in whichJane offered to sing for him, he was charmed.

  The lady entered the room, followed at some little distance byEsperance, who had conquered his timidity and come. His father hadbidden him "live," and the young man felt that he was in a measureobeying his order when he drove to Goutran's studio, where he arrivedjust in time to assist the fair stranger from her carriage.

  The horizon of Paris is so vast that there is always room for a newstar. And Jane Zeld, even if she had not shrouded herself in so muchmystery, and without a voice, would have been conspicuous for herbeauty, which was of aristocratic delicacy. Her lips were likepomegranate flowers in their rich red. Her bust was discreetly vailed,her arms were beautifully rounded, firm and white, and terminated inexquisite hands.

  Goutran had begged Esperance to come to his fete. The Vicomte did so,and Goutran seemed to forget his presence. Only a few curious glanceswere turned upon him. All eyes were watching Jane who, too, seemed toforget the person who had so gallantly assisted her from her carriage.Every one was eager for an introduction to this queen of the evening,and when she went to the piano a great hush fell upon the room. She sangmelodies, Slavonic airs, that had never before been heard in Paris, andthen an aria of a great composer, and when she concluded there wasimmense applause.

  "Do you know," said a voice, in the ear of the host, "that you are amost eccentric person!"

  The painter colored deeply, for it was Carmen who spoke. Goutran hadindeed behaved very strangely to her. He apologized in some confusion,his duties as host, his many interruptions, etc.

  "I forgive you," answered Carmen, "on one condition."

  "Any thing!"

  "Oh! I shall only ask a trifle. Can you spare me a few moments?"

  "Certainly."

  "Then give me your arm, and take me out on the terrace."

  "The terrace! How did you know that I had a terrace?" asked Goutran,astonished.

  "Pray do not be uneasy. I never visited your studio in your absence. Iheard Monsieur Laisangy say, just now, that he would go to the terracefor a little fresh air."

  "Yes," said Goutran, "your father came one day to talk about yourportrait, and I showed him the place which I dignify with the name ofterrace. It is but a small square of zinc, on which a few sickly plantsare withering. It was not worthy to be shown to my friends."

  "But you will make an exception in my favor?"

  "Most assuredly."

  They crossed the studio. Goutran started. He had seen Esperance leaningagainst a door, pale and absorbed in thought. The liquid strains ofJane's voice had reached him here, softer and sweeter than ever.

  "Will you allow me to present to you the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo?" askedGoutran.

  "Is he the son of the celebrated Count?" Carmen replied, looking at theyoung man with curiosity.

  "Precisely, and one of the best fellows in the world."

  "Is that the reason you let him stand there all by himself?" she askedwith an _etourderie_ that did not seem quite natural.

  "It is my misfortune to-night," answered Goutran, "that I am forced toneglect all that is dear to me."

  Carmen did not reply, but again she turned and looked him full in theeyes.

  "Yes," she said presently, "introduce the young man, if you choose.Being both forgotten to-night, it is well that we should be together."

  Esperance looked up at this moment, and Goutran made him a signal.

  "Mademoiselle," said the host, "permit me to present to you the Vicomtede Monte-Cristo."

  Esperance bowed low.

  "I think I have never had the pleasure of meeting you before, Vicomte,"said Carmen.

  "Oh! Esperance is a workingman!" cried Goutran. "He disdains our worldlypleasures."

  Esperance protested with a gesture, but evidently his mind waselsewhere.

  "I rely on you, Mademoiselle, and on your charming friends," continuedGoutran, "to cure this misanthrope of his bad habits!"

  Carmen, probably displeased at the indifference manifested by Esperance,now drew her host away.

  "What do you think of him?" asked Goutran.

  "He is good looking, certainly, but I cannot judge of his mind."

  "He is entirely upset of late. I have just taken his education in hand."

  Carmen seemed trying to recall something.

  "The Count of Monte-Cristo is the person who met with such a series ofincredible adventures, and is named Edmond Dantes?" she asked.

  "Yes, you are right."

  "And tell me, if you can--excuse the question--if Monsieur de Laisangyhad ever any relations with him?"

  "Ah! that I cannot say. Your father has not been in Paris for someyears, and the Count has been here very little of late. But I can easilyfind out for you."

  "No, no--pray make no inquiries!" said Carmen, eagerly. "But theterrace--where is it?"

  "Here it is!" answered Goutran, raising a curtain.

  The apartment that Goutran occupied was on the second floor, and theterrace, of which he had spoken so slightingly, was draped withclematis, and commanded a beautiful view down the avenue to the Place dela Concorde.

  The evening was calm and the air delicious. Carmen certainly deserved tobe called imprudent. She looked very lovely in the moonlight, andGoutran was young and passionately in love. Carmen still leaned on hisarm. She murmured softly:

  "How delicious it is here!"

  He slipped his arm around her waist, and as she threw back her head tolook up at the moon, Goutran leaned forward and kissed her. Let her whois without sin throw the first stone!

  At this precise moment a clear voice came from the garden below, andthis voice said:

  "Do not be too anxious to learn my name, Monsieur de Laisangy."

  The two young people separated hastily. Carmen ran to the balustrade andlooked over, but she could see nothing, and heard now only two angryvoices disputing. Carmen went to the window, and opening it, saidcoldly:

  "We will go in, if you please!"

  As they entered the gallery, the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo hurried up toGoutran.

  "Come with me," he said, "I must see you at once!"