CHAPTER V. TREASURE TROVE.
The Doctor's carriage was a two-wheeled gig with a hood; a kind ofvehicle in much favour among country doctors. On how many roads has onenot seen it, a great way off between the poplars!--in how many villagestreets, tied to a gate-post! This sort of chariot isaffected--particularly at the trot--by a kind of pitching movement to andfro across the axle, which well entitles it to the style of a Noddy. Thehood describes a considerable arc against the landscape, with a solemnlyabsurd effect on the contemplative pedestrian. To ride in such acarriage cannot be numbered among the things that appertain to glory; butI have no doubt it may be useful in liver complaint. Thence, perhaps,its wide popularity among physicians.
One morning early, Jean-Marie led forth the Doctor's noddy, opened thegate, and mounted to the driving-seat. The Doctor followed, arrayed fromtop to toe in spotless linen, armed with an immense flesh-colouredumbrella, and girt with a botanical case on a baldric; and the equipagedrove off smartly in a breeze of its own provocation. They were boundfor Franchard, to collect plants, with an eye to the 'ComparativePharmacopoeia.'
A little rattling on the open roads, and they came to the borders of theforest and struck into an unfrequented track; the noddy yawed softly overthe sand, with an accompaniment of snapping twigs. There was a great,green, softly murmuring cloud of congregated foliage overhead. In thearcades of the forest the air retained the freshness of the night. Theathletic bearing of the trees, each carrying its leafy mountain, pleasedthe mind like so many statues; and the lines of the trunk led the eyeadmiringly upward to where the extreme leaves sparkled in a patch ofazure. Squirrels leaped in mid air. It was a proper spot for a devoteeof the goddess Hygieia.
'Have you been to Franchard, Jean-Marie?' inquired the Doctor. 'I fancynot.'
'Never,' replied the boy.
'It is ruin in a gorge,' continued Desprez, adopting his expositoryvoice; 'the ruin of a hermitage and chapel. History tells us much ofFranchard; how the recluse was often slain by robbers; how he lived on amost insufficient diet; how he was expected to pass his days in prayer. Aletter is preserved, addressed to one of these solitaries by the superiorof his order, full of admirable hygienic advice; bidding him go from hisbook to praying, and so back again, for variety's sake, and when he wasweary of both to stroll about his garden and observe the honey bees. Itis to this day my own system. You must often have remarked me leavingthe "Pharmacopoeia"--often even in the middle of a phrase--to come forthinto the sun and air. I admire the writer of that letter from my heart;he was a man of thought on the most important subjects. But, indeed, hadI lived in the Middle Ages (I am heartily glad that I did not) I shouldhave been an eremite myself--if I had not been a professed buffoon, thatis. These were the only philosophical lives yet open: laughter orprayer; sneers, we might say, and tears. Until the sun of the Positivearose, the wise man had to make his choice between these two.'
'I have been a buffoon, of course,' observed Jean-Marie.
'I cannot imagine you to have excelled in your profession,' said theDoctor, admiring the boy's gravity. 'Do you ever laugh?'
'Oh, yes,' replied the other. 'I laugh often. I am very fond of jokes.'
'Singular being!' said Desprez. 'But I divagate (I perceive in athousand ways that I grow old). Franchard was at length destroyed in theEnglish wars, the same that levelled Gretz. But--here is the point--thehermits (for there were already more than one) had foreseen the dangerand carefully concealed the sacrificial vessels. These vessels were ofmonstrous value, Jean-Marie--monstrous value--priceless, we may say;exquisitely worked, of exquisite material. And now, mark me, they havenever been found. In the reign of Louis Quatorze some fellows weredigging hard by the ruins. Suddenly--tock!--the spade hit upon anobstacle. Imagine the men fooling one to another; imagine how theirhearts bounded, how their colour came and went. It was a coffer, and inFranchard the place of buried treasure! They tore it open like famishedbeasts. Alas! it was not the treasure; only some priestly robes, which,at the touch of the eating air, fell upon themselves and instantly wastedinto dust. The perspiration of these good fellows turned cold upon them,Jean-Marie. I will pledge my reputation, if there was anything like acutting wind, one or other had a pneumonia for his trouble.'
'I should like to have seen them turning into dust,' said Jean-Marie.'Otherwise, I should not have cared so greatly.'
'You have no imagination,' cried the Doctor. 'Picture to yourself thescene. Dwell on the idea--a great treasure lying in the earth forcenturies: the material for a giddy, copious, opulent existence notemployed; dresses and exquisite pictures unseen; the swiftest gallopinghorses not stirring a hoof, arrested by a spell; women with the beautifulfaculty of smiles, not smiling; cards, dice, opera singing, orchestras,castles, beautiful parks and gardens, big ships with a tower ofsailcloth, all lying unborn in a coffin--and the stupid trees growingoverhead in the sunlight, year after year. The thought drives onefrantic.'
'It is only money,' replied Jean-Marie. 'It would do harm.'
'O, come!' cried Desprez, 'that is philosophy; it is all very fine, butnot to the point just now. And besides, it is not "only money," as youcall it; there are works of art in the question; the vessels were carved.You speak like a child. You weary me exceedingly, quoting my words outof all logical connection, like a parroquet.'
'And at any rate, we have nothing to do with it,' returned the boysubmissively.
They struck the Route Ronde at that moment; and the sudden change to therattling causeway combined, with the Doctor's irritation, to keep himsilent. The noddy jigged along; the trees went by, looking on silently,as if they had something on their minds. The Quadrilateral was passed;then came Franchard. They put up the horse at the little solitary inn,and went forth strolling. The gorge was dyed deeply with heather; therocks and birches standing luminous in the sun. A great humming of beesabout the flowers disposed Jean-Marie to sleep, and he sat down against aclump of heather, while the Doctor went briskly to and fro, with quickturns, culling his simples.
The boy's head had fallen a little forward, his eyes were closed, hisfingers had fallen lax about his knees, when a sudden cry called him tohis feet. It was a strange sound, thin and brief; it fell dead, andsilence returned as though it had never been interrupted. He had notrecognised the Doctor's voice; but, as there was no one else in all thevalley, it was plainly the Doctor who had given utterance to the sound.He looked right and left, and there was Desprez, standing in a nichebetween two boulders, and looking round on his adopted son with acountenance as white as paper.
'A viper!' cried Jean-Marie, running towards him. 'A viper! You arebitten!'
The Doctor came down heavily out of the cleft, and, advanced in silenceto meet the boy, whom he took roughly by the shoulder.
'I have found it,' he said, with a gasp.
'A plant?' asked Jean-Marie.
Desprez had a fit of unnatural gaiety, which the rocks took up andmimicked. 'A plant!' he repeated scornfully. 'Well--yes--a plant. Andhere,' he added suddenly, showing his right hand, which he had hithertoconcealed behind his back--'here is one of the bulbs.'
Jean-Marie saw a dirty platter, coated with earth.
'That?' said he. 'It is a plate!'
'It is a coach and horses,' cried the Doctor. 'Boy,' he continued,growing warmer, 'I plucked away a great pad of moss from between theseboulders, and disclosed a crevice; and when I looked in, what do yousuppose I saw? I saw a house in Paris with a court and garden, I saw mywife shining with diamonds, I saw myself a deputy, I saw you--well, I--Isaw your future,' he concluded, rather feebly. 'I have just discoveredAmerica,' he added.
'But what is it?' asked the boy.
'The Treasure of Franchard,' cried the Doctor; and, throwing his brownstraw hat upon the ground, he whooped like an Indian and sprang upon Jean-Marie, whom he suffocated with embraces and bedewed with tears. Then heflung himself down among the heather and once more laughed until thevalley rang.
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bsp; But the boy had now an interest of his own, a boy's interest. No soonerwas he released from the Doctor's accolade than he ran to the boulders,sprang into the niche, and, thrusting his hand into the crevice, drewforth one after another, encrusted with the earth of ages, the flagons,candlesticks, and patens of the hermitage of Franchard. A casket camelast, tightly shut and very heavy.
'O what fun!' he cried.
But when he looked back at the Doctor, who had followed close behind andwas silently observing, the words died from his lips. Desprez was oncemore the colour of ashes; his lip worked and trembled; a sort of bestialgreed possessed him.
'This is childish,' he said. 'We lose precious time. Back to the inn,harness the trap, and bring it to yon bank. Run for your life, andremember--not one whisper. I stay here to watch.'
Jean-Marie did as he was bid, though not without surprise. The noddy wasbrought round to the spot indicated; and the two gradually transportedthe treasure from its place of concealment to the boot below the drivingseat. Once it was all stored the Doctor recovered his gaiety.
'I pay my grateful duties to the genius of this dell,' he said. 'O, fora live coal, a heifer, and a jar of country wine! I am in the vein forsacrifice, for a superb libation. Well, and why not? We are atFranchard. English pale ale is to be had--not classical, indeed, butexcellent. Boy, we shall drink ale.'
'But I thought it was so unwholesome,' said Jean-Marie, 'and very dearbesides.'
'Fiddle-de-dee!' exclaimed the Doctor gaily. 'To the inn!'
And he stepped into the noddy, tossing his head, with an elastic,youthful air. The horse was turned, and in a few seconds they drew upbeside the palings of the inn garden.
'Here,' said Desprez--'here, near the table, so that we may keep an eyeupon things.'
They tied the horse, and entered the garden, the Doctor singing, now infantastic high notes, now producing deep reverberations from his chest.He took a seat, rapped loudly on the table, assailed the waiter withwitticisms; and when the bottle of Bass was at length produced, far morecharged with gas than the most delirious champagne, he filled out a longglassful of froth and pushed it over to Jean-Marie. 'Drink,' he said;'drink deep.'
'I would rather not,' faltered the boy, true to his training.
'What?' thundered Desprez.
'I am afraid of it,' said Jean-Marie: 'my stomach--'
'Take it or leave it,' interrupted Desprez fiercely; 'but understand itonce for all--there is nothing so contemptible as a precisian.'
Here was a new lesson! The boy sat bemused, looking at the glass but nottasting it, while the Doctor emptied and refilled his own, at first withclouded brow, but gradually yielding to the sun, the heady, pricklingbeverage, and his own predisposition to be happy.
'Once in a way,' he said at last, by way of a concession to the boy'smore rigorous attitude, 'once in a way, and at so critical a moment, thisale is a nectar for the gods. The habit, indeed, is debasing; wine, thejuice of the grape, is the true drink of the Frenchman, as I have oftenhad occasion to point out; and I do not know that I can blame you forrefusing this outlandish stimulant. You can have some wine and cakes. Isthe bottle empty? Well, we will not be proud; we will have pity on yourglass.'
The beer being done, the Doctor chafed bitterly while Jean-Marie finishedhis cakes. 'I burn to be gone,' he said, looking at his watch. 'GoodGod, how slow you eat!' And yet to eat slowly was his own particularprescription, the main secret of longevity!
His martyrdom, however, reached an end at last; the pair resumed theirplaces in the buggy, and Desprez, leaning luxuriously back, announced hisintention of proceeding to Fontainebleau.
'To Fontainebleau?' repeated Jean-Marie.
'My words are always measured,' said the Doctor. 'On!'
The Doctor was driven through the glades of paradise; the air, the light,the shining leaves, the very movements of the vehicle, seemed to fall intune with his golden meditations; with his head thrown back, he dreamed aseries of sunny visions, ale and pleasure dancing in his veins. At lasthe spoke.
'I shall telegraph for Casimir,' he said. 'Good Casimir! a fellow of thelower order of intelligence, Jean-Marie, distinctly not creative, notpoetic; and yet he will repay your study; his fortune is vast, and isentirely due to his own exertions. He is the very fellow to help us todispose of our trinkets, find us a suitable house in Paris, and managethe details of our installation. Admirable Casimir, one of my oldestcomrades! It was on his advice, I may add, that I invested my littlefortune in Turkish bonds; when we have added these spoils of the mediaevalchurch to our stake in the Mahometan empire, little boy, we shallpositively roll among doubloons, positively roll! Beautiful forest,' hecried, 'farewell! Though called to other scenes, I will not forget thee.Thy name is graven in my heart. Under the influence of prosperity Ibecome dithyrambic, Jean-Marie. Such is the impulse of the natural soul;such was the constitution of primaeval man. And I--well, I will notrefuse the credit--I have preserved my youth like a virginity; another,who should have led the same snoozing, countryfied existence for theseyears, another had become rusted, become stereotype; but I, I praise myhappy constitution, retain the spring unbroken. Fresh opulence and a newsphere of duties find me unabated in ardour and only more mature byknowledge. For this prospective change, Jean-Marie--it may probably haveshocked you. Tell me now, did it not strike you as an inconsistency?Confess--it is useless to dissemble--it pained you?'
'Yes,' said the boy.
'You see,' returned the Doctor, with sublime fatuity, 'I read yourthoughts! Nor am I surprised--your education is not yet complete; thehigher duties of men have not been yet presented to you fully. Ahint--till we have leisure--must suffice. Now that I am once more inpossession of a modest competence; now that I have so long preparedmyself in silent meditation, it becomes my superior duty to proceed toParis. My scientific training, my undoubted command of language, mark meout for the service of my country. Modesty in such a case would be asnare. If sin were a philosophical expression, I should call it sinful.A man must not deny his manifest abilities, for that is to evade hisobligations. I must be up and doing; I must be no skulker in life'sbattle.'
So he rattled on, copiously greasing the joint of his inconsistency withwords; while the boy listened silently, his eyes fixed on the horse, hismind seething. It was all lost eloquence; no array of words couldunsettle a belief of Jean-Marie's; and he drove into Fontainebleau filledwith pity, horror, indignation, and despair.
In the town Jean-Marie was kept a fixture on the driving-seat, to guardthe treasure; while the Doctor, with a singular, slightly tipsy airinessof manner, fluttered in and out of cafes, where he shook hands withgarrison officers, and mixed an absinthe with the nicety of oldexperience; in and out of shops, from which he returned laden with costlyfruits, real turtle, a magnificent piece of silk for his wife, apreposterous cane for himself, and a kepi of the newest fashion for theboy; in and out of the telegraph office, whence he despatched histelegram, and where three hours later he received an answer promising avisit on the morrow; and generally pervaded Fontainebleau with the firstfine aroma of his divine good humour.
The sun was very low when they set forth again; the shadows of the foresttrees extended across the broad white road that led them home; thepenetrating odour of the evening wood had already arisen, like a cloud ofincense, from that broad field of tree-tops; and even in the streets ofthe town, where the air had been baked all day between white walls, itcame in whiffs and pulses, like a distant music. Half-way home, the lastgold flicker vanished from a great oak upon the left; and when they cameforth beyond the borders of the wood, the plain was already sunken inpearly greyness, and a great, pale moon came swinging skyward through thefilmy poplars.
The Doctor sang, the Doctor whistled, the Doctor talked. He spoke of thewoods, and the wars, and the deposition of dew; he brightened and babbledof Paris; he soared into cloudy bombast on the glories of the politicalarena. All was to be changed; as the day departed, it took with it
thevestiges of an outworn existence, and to-morrow's sun was to inauguratethe new. 'Enough,' he cried, 'of this life of maceration!' His wife(still beautiful, or he was sadly partial) was to be no longer buried;she should now shine before society. Jean-Marie would find the world athis feet; the roads open to success, wealth, honour, and post-humousrenown. 'And O, by the way,' said he, 'for God's sake keep your tonguequiet! You are, of course, a very silent fellow; it is a quality Igladly recognise in you--silence, golden silence! But this is a matterof gravity. No word must get abroad; none but the good Casimir is to betrusted; we shall probably dispose of the vessels in England.'
'But are they not even ours?' the boy said, almost with a sob--it was theonly time he had spoken.
'Ours in this sense, that they are nobody else's,' replied the Doctor.'But the State would have some claim. If they were stolen, for instance,we should be unable to demand their restitution; we should have no title;we should be unable even to communicate with the police. Such is themonstrous condition of the law. {263} It is a mere instance of whatremains to be done, of the injustices that may yet be righted by anardent, active, and philosophical deputy.'
Jean-Marie put his faith in Madame Desprez; and as they drove forwarddown the road from Bourron, between the rustling poplars, he prayed inhis teeth, and whipped up the horse to an unusual speed. Surely, as soonas they arrived, madame would assert her character, and bring this wakingnightmare to an end.
Their entrance into Gretz was heralded and accompanied by a most furiousbarking; all the dogs in the village seemed to smell the treasure in thenoddy. But there was no one in the street, save three lounging landscapepainters at Tentaillon's door. Jean-Marie opened the green gate and ledin the horse and carriage; and almost at the same moment Madame Desprezcame to the kitchen threshold with a lighted lantern; for the moon wasnot yet high enough to clear the garden walls.
'Close the gates, Jean-Marie!' cried the Doctor, somewhat unsteadilyalighting. 'Anastasie, where is Aline?'
'She has gone to Montereau to see her parents,' said madame.
'All is for the best!' exclaimed the Doctor fervently. 'Here, quick,come near to me; I do not wish to speak too loud,' he continued.'Darling, we are wealthy!'
'Wealthy!' repeated the wife.
'I have found the treasure of Franchard,' replied her husband. 'See,here are the first fruits; a pineapple, a dress for my ever-beautiful--itwill suit her--trust a husband's, trust a lover's, taste! Embrace me,darling! This grimy episode is over; the butterfly unfolds its paintedwings. To-morrow Casimir will come; in a week we may be in Paris--happyat last! You shall have diamonds. Jean-Marie, take it out of the boot,with religious care, and bring it piece by piece into the dining-room. Weshall have plate at table! Darling, hasten and prepare this turtle; itwill be a whet--it will be an addition to our meagre ordinary. I myselfwill proceed to the cellar. We shall have a bottle of that littleBeaujolais you like, and finish with the Hermitage; there are still threebottles left. Worthy wine for a worthy occasion.'
'But, my husband; you put me in a whirl,' she cried. 'I do notcomprehend.'
'The turtle, my adored, the turtle!' cried the doctor; and he pushed hertowards the kitchen, lantern and all.
Jean-Marie stood dumfounded. He had pictured to himself a differentscene--a more immediate protest, and his hope began to dwindle on thespot.
The Doctor was everywhere, a little doubtful on his legs, perhaps, andnow and then taking the wall with his shoulder; for it was long since hehad tasted absinthe, and he was even then reflecting that the absinthehad been a misconception. Not that he regretted excess on such aglorious day, but he made a mental memorandum to beware; he must not, asecond time, become the victim of a deleterious habit. He had his wineout of the cellar in a twinkling; he arranged the sacrificial vessels,some on the white table-cloth, some on the sideboard, still crusted withhistoric earth. He was in and out of the kitchen, plying Anastasie withvermouth, heating her with glimpses of the future, estimating their newwealth at ever larger figures; and before they sat down to supper, thelady's virtue had melted in the fire of his enthusiasm, her timidity haddisappeared; she, too, had begun to speak disparagingly of the life atGretz; and as she took her place and helped the soup, her eyes shone withthe glitter of prospective diamonds.
All through the meal, she and the Doctor made and unmade fairy plans.They bobbed and bowed and pledged each other. Their faces ran over withsmiles; their eyes scattered sparkles, as they projected the Doctor'spolitical honours and the lady's drawing-room ovations.
'But you will not be a Red!' cried Anastasie.
'I am Left Centre to the core,' replied the Doctor.
'Madame Gastein will present us--we shall find ourselves forgotten,' saidthe lady.
'Never,' protested the Doctor. 'Beauty and talent leave a mark.'
'I have positively forgotten how to dress,' she sighed.
'Darling, you make me blush,' cried he. 'Yours has been a tragicmarriage!'
'But your success--to see you appreciated, honoured, your name in all thepapers, that will be more than pleasure--it will be heaven!' she cried.
'And once a week,' said the Doctor, archly scanning the syllables, 'oncea week--one good little game of baccarat?'
'Only once a week?' she questioned, threatening him with a finger.
'I swear it by my political honour,' cried he.
'I spoil you,' she said, and gave him her hand.
He covered it with kisses.
Jean-Marie escaped into the night. The moon swung high over Gretz. Hewent down to the garden end and sat on the jetty. The river ran by witheddies of oily silver, and a low, monotonous song. Faint veils of mistmoved among the poplars on the farther side. The reeds were quietlynodding. A hundred times already had the boy sat, on such a night, andwatched the streaming river with untroubled fancy. And this perhaps wasto be the last. He was to leave this familiar hamlet, this green,rustling country, this bright and quiet stream; he was to pass into thegreat city; his dear lady mistress was to move bedizened in saloons; hisgood, garrulous, kind-hearted master to become a brawling deputy; andboth be lost for ever to Jean-Marie and their better selves. He knew hisown defects; he knew he must sink into less and less consideration in theturmoil of a city life, sink more and more from the child into theservant. And he began dimly to believe the Doctor's prophecies of evil.He could see a change in both. His generous incredulity failed him forthis once; a child must have perceived that the Hermitage had completedwhat the absinthe had begun. If this were the first day, what would bethe last? 'If necessary, wreck the train,' thought he, remembering theDoctor's parable. He looked round on the delightful scene; he drank deepof the charmed night air, laden with the scent of hay. 'If necessary,wreck the train,' he repeated. And he rose and returned to the house.
The Merry Men, and Other Tales and Fables Page 16