CHAPTER VII.
THE TRAP TO CATCH PHILOSOPHERS.
Indifferent to everything since he had learnt of Andrea's going soon tothe court, Gilbert had forgotten the excursion of Rousseau and hisbrother botanist on Sunday. He would have preferred to pass the day athis garret window, watching his idol.
Rousseau had not only taken special pains over his attire, but arrayedGilbert in the best, though Therese had thought overalls and asmockfrock quite good enough to wander in the woods, picking up weeds.
He was not wrong for Dr. Jussieu came in his carriage, powdered,pommaded and freshened up like springtime: Indian satin coat, lilactaffety vest, extremely fine white silk stockings and polished goldbuckled shoes composed his botanist's outfit.
"How gay you are!" exclaimed Rousseau.
"Not at all, I have dressed lightly to get over the ground better."
"Your silk hose will never stand the wet."
"We will pick our steps. Can one be too fine to court Mother Nature?"
The Genevan Philosopher said no more--an invocation to Nature usuallyshutting him up. Gilbert looked at Jussieu with envy. If he were arrayedlike him, perhaps Andrea would look at him.
An hour after the start, the party reached Bougival, where they alightedand took the Chestnut Walk. On coming in sight of the summerhouse ofLuciennes, where Gilbert had been conducted by Mdlle. Chon when he waspicked up by her, a poor boy on the highway, he trembled. For he hadrepaid her succor by fleeing when she had wished to make a buffoon ofhim as a peer to Countess Dubarry's black boy, Zamore.
"It is nine o'clock," observed Dr. Jussieu, "suppose we have breakfast?"
"Where? did you bring eatables in your carriage?"
"No, but I see a kiosk over there where a modest meal may be had. We canherborize as we walk there."
"Very well, Gilbert may be hungry. What is the name of your inn?"
"The Trap."
"How queer!"
"The country folks have droll ideas. But it is not an inn; only ashooting-box where the gamekeepers offer hospitality to gentlemen."
"Of course you know the owner's name?" said Rousseau, suspicious.
"Not at all: Lady Mirepoix or Lady Egmont--or--it does not matter if thebutter and the bread are fresh."
The good-humored way in which he spoke disarmed the philosopher whobesides had his appetite whetted by the early stroll. Jussieu led themarch, Rousseau followed, gleaning, and Gilbert guarded the rear,thinking of Andrea and how to see her at Trianon Palace.
At the top of the hill, rather painfully climbed by the three botanists,rose one of those imitation rustic cottages invented by the gardeners ofEngland and giving a stamp of originality to the scene. The walls wereof brick and the shelly stone found naturally in mosaic patterns on theriverside.
The single room was large enough to hold a table and half-a-dozenchairs. The windows were glazed in different colors so that you could byselection view the landscape in the red of sunset, the blue of a cloudyday or the still colder slate hue of a December day.
This diverted Gilbert but a more attractive sight was the spread on theboard. It drew an outcry of admiration from Rousseau, a simple lover ofgood cheer, though a philosopher, from his appetite being as hearty ashis taste was modest.
"My dear master," said Jussieu, "if you blame me for this feast you arewrong, for it is quite a mild set-out---- "
"Do not depreciate your table, you gormand!"
"Do not call it mine!"
"Not yours? then whose--the brownies, the fairies?" demanded Rousseau,with a smile testifying to his constraint and good nature at the sametime.
"You have hit it," answered the doctor, glancing wistfully to the door.
Gilbert hesitated.
"Bless the fays for their hospitality," said Rousseau, "fall on! theywill be offended at your holding back and think you rate their bountyincomplete."
"Or unworthy you gentlemen," interrupted a silvery voice at thesummerhouse door, where two pretty women presented themselves arm inarm.
With smiles on their lips, they waved their plump hands for Jussieu tomoderate his salutations.
"Allow me to present the Author Rousseau to your ladyship, countess,"said the latter. "Do you not know the lady?"
Gilbert did, if his teacher did not, for he stared and, pale as death,looked for an exit.
"It is the first time we meet," faltered the Citizen of Geneva.
"Countess Dubarry!" explained the other botanist.
His colleague started as though on a redhot plate of iron.
Jeanne Dubarry, favorite of King Louis X. was a lovely woman, just ofthe right plumpness to be a material Venus; fair, with light hair butdark eyes she was witching and delightful to all men who prefer truth tofancy in feminine beauty.
"I am very happy," she said "to see and welcome under my roof one of themost illustrious thinkers of the era."
"Lady Dubarry," stammered Rousseau, without seeing that his astonishmentwas an offense. "So it is she who gives the breakfast?"
"You guess right, my dear philosopher," replied Jussieu, "she and hersister, Mdlle. Chon, who at least is no stranger to Friend Gilbert."
"Her sister knows Gilbert?"
"Intimately," rejoined the impudent girl with the audacity whichrespected neither royal ill-humor nor philosopher's quips. "We are oldboon companions--are you already forgetful of the candy and cakes ofLuciennes and Versailles?"
This shot went home; Rousseau dropped his arms. Habituated in hisconceit to think the aristocratic party were always trying to seduce himfrom the popular side, he saw traitors and spies in everybody.
"Is this so, unhappy boy?" he asked of Gilbert, confounded. "Begone, forI do not like those who blow hot and cold with the same breath."
"But I ran away from Luciennes where I was locked up, and I must havepreferred your house, my guide, my friend, my philosopher!"
"Hypocrisy!"
"But, M. Rousseau, if I wanted the society of these ladies, I should gowith them now?"
"Go where you like! I may be deceived once but not twice. Go to thislady, good and amiable--and with this gentleman," he added pointing toJussieu, amazed at the philosopher's rebuke to the royal pet, "he is alover of nature and your accomplice--he has promised you fortune andassistance and he has power at court."
He bowed to the women in a tragic manner, unable to contain himself, andleft the pavillion statelily, without glancing again at Gilbert.
"What an ugly creature a philosopher is," tranquilly said Chon, watchingthe Genevan stumble down the hill.
"You can have anything you like," prompted Jussieu to Gilbert who kepthis face buried in his hands.
"Yes, anything, Gilly," added the countess, smiling on the returnedprodigal.
Raising his pale face, and tossing back the hair matted on his forehead,he said in a steady voice:
"I should be glad to be a gardener at Trianon Palace."
Chon and the countess glanced at each other, and the former touched hersister's foot while she winked broadly. Jeanne nodded.
"If feasible, do it," she said to Jussieu.
Gilbert bowed with his hand on his heart, overflowing with joy afterhaving been drowned with grief.
The Mesmerist's Victim Page 7