Part 2
“Well,” said Monsieur de Latour, continuing to talk upon the subject most agreeable to him in the world--that is, himself--“a curious thing has just happened to me with regard to Mademoiselle Cheri. I have a young niece, Mélanie Dupont, who has lived with me for several years. We were starting for Dinard to spend a month, when her companion, a worthy, respectable person, was taken ill and could not come with us. Mélanie found out that Mademoiselle Cheri had a notion for Dinard, and as the two are great friends she persuaded me to let her come with Mademoiselle Cheri. Mélanie, you must know, is always begging me to marry Mademoiselle Cheri and begging Mademoiselle Cheri to marry me. At all events, I agreed that the two should come to Dinard together, and they are now at a villa in the town and very happy with each other. But, of course, this is a merely temporary arrangement, and I have put an advertisement in the newspapers for a chaperon for my niece. It would seem a good scheme for you and Mélanie to make a match, but, unfortunately, the girl has become attached to Eugène de Contiac, the nephew of the Comtesse de Beauregard.”
Louis, feeling himself called upon to make some remark, although his wits were still woolgathering, said absently:
“Such a match as that for your niece I should think would satisfy your ambition.”
Monsieur de Latour shook his head dolefully.
“The only trouble is that Eugène has not a sou of his own. He is naturally pious, reserved, and strictly correct in his conduct, and my niece is of the same character. But Madame de Beauregard is determined to convert him into the wildest rake in France and drives him into dissipations to make a man of him, as she says. As soon as he engages in an escapade the old lady makes a will leaving him half a million francs, and my niece, who is quite disinterested, and, as I said, very religious, promptly jilts him. Then Eugène is conscience-stricken at his behaviour, turns pious again, is received back into my niece’s affections, and is at once disinherited in another will by Madame de Beauregard. It is a regular seesaw. That old woman actually carries an advocate in her suite for the purpose of making and destroying wills. It is a very difficult problem for me, because at one time Eugene is a very desirable _parti_, and then my niece won’t look at him, and next he hasn’t a sou in the world and my niece insists she will marry him. Love and life are great puzzles.”
“You will never get up a character for originality on that observation,” answered Louis, his mind still full of Julie. “And so you have never seen your ward?” he added presently.
“Never. Luckily I have no responsibility for her, only for her fortune. But I have seen Madame de Beauregard, and I have been balancing in my mind for the last year whether I shall marry her or Mademoiselle Cheri. You see”--here Monsieur de Latour assumed a coquettish air--“I can marry whom I please.”
“I suppose you mean by that,” remarked Louis, “that you could marry fifty or sixty ladies at once, but that would hardly seem to me to be desirable, if possible.”
Monsieur de Latour let this sarcasm pass unnoticed, and then said:
“By the way, the old lady is at Dinard now, I see by the newspapers.”
“Is Mademoiselle de Brésac with her?” asked Louis, his heart beginning to pound again.
“I don’t know. Her name is not mentioned,” replied Monsieur de Latour. “Well, now that we have come to terms, we had better arrange to have the matter of adoption put in legal form as soon as possible. I think it can all be settled in a few days. Don’t let anybody frighten you about the liberty you will surrender in becoming legally my nephew.”
“Nobody in the world can frighten me from accepting three hundred thousand francs,” answered Louis determinedly, the vision of Julie before his eyes--Julie, with her pretty head upon his shoulder, his arm around her waist, and all those sweet fantasies which haunt lovers.
“And of course you were not in earnest about burning the chateau down. We shall have to come to some arrangement on this point, too, because it will add very much to my consequence to have this place in existence. True, it would require a fortune to rehabilitate it, but we might have a new roof and all the windows put in and rebuild one wing. Then, if you should marry an heiress, you might repair the whole building, or I might. Soap-boiling is exceedingly profitable, if you know what to put in the soap.”
“You or anybody else are at liberty to repair this old barrack,” answered Louis with the greatest cordiality.
The elder De Latour rose to take his departure, saying affectionately:
“Adieu, my dear nephew.”
Louis’s reply to this was to seize Monsieur de Latour in his arms.
“Good Heavens!” cried the old gentleman, fighting off Louis’s frantic demonstrations to kiss him, “I can’t stand this sort of thing.”
“But you must!” exclaimed Louis rapturously. “How can I restrain my transports in the presence of a man who has promised to give me three hundred thousand francs, to repair this old barn, and to make me his nephew? It must be a part of the agreement that I am entitled to embrace and kiss you at least three times a day--nothing less will content me.”
“And I,” panted Monsieur de Latour, retreating toward the door, “must protect myself from these vigorous demonstrations. Once a day ought to suffice you.”
“No, no!” cried Louis, pursuing him to the door, which Monsieur de Latour opened precipitately, nearly knocking down old Suzette, who was listening at the keyhole. Monsieur de Latour, taking advantage of this diversion, waddled rapidly down the corridor, calling out:
“Another such hug as that will cost you at least one hundred thousand francs! I shall be here at ten o’clock to-morrow morning for our business interview.”
And he disappeared, while Louis, seizing old Suzette in his arms, much to that worthy woman’s astonishment, began to waltz up and down the saloon, shouting at the top of his voice:
“Julie, I love you! Julie, I adore you! Julie, I shall marry you!”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
II
AUNT AND NIECE
Louis, having waltzed rapturously with old Suzette in the corridor for fully ten minutes, returned to the saloon--ironically called the grand saloon--and began to pace up and down, showing his joy in every motion of his graceful figure and every expression of his handsome and vivacious countenance. His heart and mind were full of Julie, and as he murmured her name to himself, the rain stopped, the clouds parted softly and swiftly, and a flood of sunlight burst into the room.
“Julie, perhaps, is at Dinard,” Louis kept repeating to himself until he actually persuaded himself that she must be there.
Then looking at his watch and seeing that it was after twelve o’clock, he determined to hunt up Madame de Beauregard. He rushed to the barrack which he occupied as a bedroom, and made a toilet suitable for calling upon ladies in the morning--his one white flannel suit, his one pair of black silk stockings, his one pair of white shoes, and a new straw hat with a black ribbon around it. He surveyed himself in the glass with the earnestness of a man desirous to please, but in truth he need have given himself small concern on that score, because he had that combination of good looks, good manners, good temper, and ineffable impudence which is always irresistible to women.
He did not know where the Comtesse de Beauregard was staying in the town, but that was easily to be ascertained. Wherever Madame de Beauregard went she always made a commotion. She carried with her a retinue, not of dogs, cats, and birds, such as ladies of her age usually affect, but of human beings, mostly men.
Louis, walking rapidly through the sunny streets of the town, gay with the morning gaiety of Dinard, bought a newspaper at the first kiosk he found, and in the list of arrivals at one of the most fashionable hotels he saw the name of Madame de Beauregard, with three maids and two valets, Monsieur Eugène de Contiac, and Monsieur Bertoux, advocate. Louis’s joy was slightly dashed at the absence of Julie’s name, and he was walking disconsolately enough along the shady street when he suddenly ran almost into the arms of Madame de Beauregard. And there, standing a little way off, smiling, blushing, and dimpling, was Julie. She was radiant, all in white except a splendid red rose which bloomed upon her breast.
The Comtesse de Beauregard, who would never see sixty again, small, elegant, with a laughing devil in her eye, but with a countenance not devoid of good-nature, was dressed in a costume which matched Julie’s exactly, red rose and all. A sailor hat was tipped back upon her elaborately frizzed white hair, for the old lady scorned disguise in any form, and wore frankly, without any make-up, the costumes which would have suited a chit of sixteen. Her short white skirt showed her little feet encased in the most daring of embroidered red silk stockings, which she evidently wore to be seen. She carried a dainty white parasol in her hand, and playfully prodding Louis in the ribs, cried:
“Here is our young cavalier from Algiers. Naughty boy! Why didn’t you let me know that you were here? Men are so scarce nowadays, and hard to catch.” And she tweaked Louis’s left ear playfully.
Louis, his eyes still on Julie and his hat in his hand, murmured:
“I only found out an hour ago that you, madame, were here, and I was on my way to your hotel to call upon you.”
“I dare say you are telling the truth,” answered the old lady, twirling her parasol around her head gaily. “The men of the present day haven’t spirit enough to tell a good, robust lie. In my day it was the fashion for gentlemen to tell great big lies to ladies, but the whole sex has reformed now almost past endurance. By the way, I understand you have inherited a fine, large chateau close by.”
[Illustration: “‘Here is our young cavalier from Algiers.’”]
Julie, meanwhile, had opened her mouth several times to speak, but in vain. It was always difficult for other women to be heard when Madame de Beauregard was present.
“Fine! No, madame. I am thinking of changing the name from the Chateau of Montplaisir to the Chateau of Monmisère, or calling it the chateau of rats and mice, or something of the sort. But it is large!”
“And have you seen or heard anything of a grotesque old party of your name, a soap-boiler by trade, who is extremely anxious to be considered a member of your family?” asked the old lady.
Julie’s mouth was opened for the fourth time to speak, but, as usual, Madame de Beauregard gave her not the ghost of a chance to be heard.
“He came to see me this morning,” replied Louis.
“You are indebted to me for that,” cried Madame de Beauregard. “You know he is as rich as Aladdin, and quite respectable. If he were not so tediously correct in his conduct, and of such tiresome propriety, I think I should marry him for his money. You know he was a friend of Julie’s father, my brother, who made him trustee of her fortune, and as I have charge of Julie I have met Monsieur de Latour several times. I told him about you, and put the notion into his head of establishing some sort of relationship with you. When we were in Algiers you made a very favourable impression upon me. I really believe you capable of mischief, unlike that poor rag of a man, my nephew, Eugène de Contiac. He is in love, you know, with old De Latour’s niece Mélanie, who is twice as pious as Eugène. To think that I should not only have a pious man in my family, but should run the risk of the type being perpetuated! However, my family were all born to ill luck.”
“I am a thousand times obliged to you,” answered Louis, his eyes glued on Julie, who made a last desperate effort to speak, but was cut short promptly by Madame de Beauregard.
“Now we have the finest joke in the world afoot to play off on old De Latour. He is advertising in the newspapers for a companion for that niece of his, and I put it into Julie’s head to try to get the place. Old De Latour has never seen her, you know. What larks we shall have when we get Julie established as Mélanie’s companion. She will have strict orders from me to get some of the piety and propriety out of that girl, because I don’t want any piety or propriety in my family. I have too much already.”
Louis felt like disputing this proposition, and Julie again opened her lips to speak, but, as usual, it was in vain.
“So now,” cried the old lady, “you may look out for some amusement! I intend to have a gay time at Dinard. General Granier is here, you know, and a few men. I don’t call every biped wearing trousers a man, if you please. It is only those with life and spirit in them who, I think, deserve the name. Come, Julie, it is time for our lesson in skirt-dancing.”
As the old lady, seizing Julie, skipped off, Julie turned her head and managed to articulate one sentence only, and this was:
“Good morning, monsieur.”
Louis stood still and swore silently at Madame de Beauregard, but he was happy, after all, for Julie was there. And then, what delicious possibilities of seeing her were involved in that practical joke which Madame de Beauregard proposed to play on Monsieur de Latour.
With these thoughts animating him Louis determined to carry out his original intention and leave cards on the ladies at their hotel. This he did, feeling as if he were walking on air. Then he strolled about the town for an hour or two, and presently, led by his good genius, he went down to the beach, where the sea was like molten gold under the summer sky. The first object that met his eye among the crowd of bathers was Madame de Beauregard, in a bright red bathing suit, disporting herself like a mermaid in the waves. And oh, joy and rapture, a little way off stood Julie, looking like a tall lily flower in her pretty white gown! Louis flew toward her and received a welcome from her eyes.
“Mademoiselle,” he whispered, “do you know what my first thought was when I inherited the Chateau of Montplaisir?”
It was one of those questions which require no answer. Julie, whose eyes were usually dancing with merriment and as fearless as a child’s, lowered her long lashes, but in a moment she raised her glance and said:
“Was it of me you were thinking, monsieur?”
“Yes, yes, yes, mademoiselle! And Monsieur de Latour has offered to adopt me as his nephew and give me three hundred thousand francs if I will recognise him as the head of the younger branch of the family. O Julie, dearest!”
At that moment Madame de Beauregard, in her red bathing suit, came rushing out of the water and dashing up to Louis, shrieked gaily:
“Come, now, go and get a bathing suit and come into the water with me, and I will show you how to turn a somersault.”
Louis fled, hotly pursued for a short distance by the old lady; but years and wind told, and Madame de Beauregard had to return to the sea, keeping her eyes open for a young man more complaisant than Louis. But Julie walked up and down the sand in the blazing sunlight, listening to the quick beating of her own heart which was flooded with the sunshine of life and love.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
III
GAY DINARD
The fine weather continued during the afternoon, and the August sun, shining out brilliantly, drove the silvery mists oceanward, turned the sea and shore into a splendour of blue and gold, and made a glory of the fields and woods about the merry little town.
All the world was out of doors, including Monsieur de Latour, Mademoiselle Cheri, and Mélanie, who were having tea in the garden of the Villa Rose--a gardenlike paradise. Mademoiselle Cheri was a comely woman, although past middle age, but in her somewhat plain face was the charm and repose of a sweet nature. Mademoiselle Cheri had remarkably good sense mixed with her sweetness, and by no means shared all of her ex-lover’s projects and ambitions. Mélanie, on the contrary, pretty, pious, and trustful, thought her uncle the wisest of men.
Monsieur de Latour, much elated at the result of his visit to the Chateau of Montplaisir and his recognition as a member of the noble house of De Latour, being unable to keep the cat in the bag, let it escape before he had finished his first cup of tea. He began by announcing with a lofty air to Mademoiselle Cheri that he had spent the morning making the acquaintance of his relative, the head of the house of De Latour, at his Chateau of Montplaisir, and described with perfect truth the rapturous greeting he had received from his new-found relative. He did not, however, mention the three hundred thousand francs which he had offered for the privilege of making Louis his nephew and of putting the De Latour crest upon every one of his personal belongings on which he could stick it. He, however, announced that he had arranged to meet Louis the next morning, in order to trace up their exact relationship. “I,” he said pompously, “being the head of the younger branch of the family.”
At this Mademoiselle Cheri sniffed, if so pleasant a creature could be said to sniff.
“How much, monsieur,” she asked sweetly, “did you pay for your place on the family tree?”
Monsieur de Latour scowled. Mademoiselle Cheri was treating him exactly as if he were still a clerk in the soap-boiling factory of Cheri and Company, and he suspected that she already considered him her own matrimonial prize and hence took liberties beforehand.
“Nothing whatever, mademoiselle,” he answered stiffly, “but I may say that it is extremely likely I may become the owner of the Chateau of Montplaisir and the head of the family.”
And then, determined to impress Mademoiselle Cheri with a sense of his own dignity, he added:
“My connection with my new relative is likely to become closer, because we were so mutually pleased with each other that we have agreed to assume legally the status of uncle and nephew--a common enough arrangement in France, which could be well imitated in other countries.”
“That must have cost you a good many francs,” said Mademoiselle Cheri coolly.
“Only three hundred thousand,” tartly responded Monsieur de Latour, determined to let Mademoiselle Cheri know that three hundred thousand francs was a mere bagatelle with him.
Even Mélanie started at this, and cried:
“O uncle!”
But Mademoiselle Cheri showed not the least surprise, merely saying:
“I thought that, in your craze for family consequence and a crest on your carriage, you would do something of the kind.”
“A great many people would if they could,” said Monsieur de Latour darkly. “Give me another cup of tea, Mélanie.”
“A great many more would not,” replied Mademoiselle Cheri; “I, for example. My father was an honest, respectable soap-boiler, well thought of by all who knew him--a good father, a good friend, a good citizen. That is enough for me. I would not pay three hundred francs to be recognised as sixty-fourth cousin by the greatest family in France.”
Here Mélanie, seeing that her uncle and her friend were fast approaching a quarrel, interposed by taking a letter out of her pocket.
“This letter,” she said hurriedly, “is, I think, an answer to our advertisement.”
Monsieur de Latour opened the letter. It bore, in the fine stationery and elegant, if somewhat illegible, handwriting, all the evidences of refinement. The advertisement, which read as follows, was pinned to it:
WANTED--A companion for a young lady of good family. Must be well educated, a musician and linguist, and of unexceptionable family. Apply by letter to MONSIEUR VICTOR LOUIS DE LATOUR, POSTE RESTANTE.
Monsieur de Latour, with some difficulty, made out the letter, which was as follows:
Mademoiselle de Courcey offers her services as companion in answer to the above advertisement. Mademoiselle de Courcey can furnish unexceptionable references as to her acquirements and associations, and will be pleased to meet any appointment for a personal interview.
The name De Courcey made a great impression on Monsieur de Latour, to whom names and titles were important things.
“Now, I like that letter,” he said. “It’s very businesslike. It is evidently written by a mature and experienced woman. That is clearly shown in the letter--nothing superfluous, a plain statement of fact and desires an interview. Mélanie, my love, you may write in my name and suggest an appointment at this villa at five o’clock to-morrow afternoon. Of course, mademoiselle,” he added, turning to Mademoiselle Cheri, “I appreciate more than I can express your kindness to Mélanie, and as long as you will allow her to remain with you she will, I know, be very happy to do so. I shall feel most grateful to you, but I do not wish to impose upon you. If this lady is all that she appears to be, I could engage her on trial and establish her in this villa, so that I could have the benefit of your judgment upon her qualifications.”
Monsieur de Latour said this much, for after all he had a soft spot in his heart for Mademoiselle Cheri. He could not forget when he had been a clerk in her father’s factory and sweet Séline Cheri had been the star of his existence; but that was before he became the prospective uncle of the head of the house of De Latour.
“Certainly. I think the arrangement an admirable one,” replied Mademoiselle Cheri; “and, by the way, monsieur, do you know that your friend the Comtesse de Beauregard is at Dinard? I saw her going into her hotel this morning. She had her whole retinue with her. There was our poor, dear Eugène”--for Mademoiselle Cheri was in the confidence of the lovers--“her advocate and man of business, Monsieur Bertoux, two valets, and three maids.”
There was not a suspicion of jealousy in Mademoiselle Cheri’s voice as she said this, which very much annoyed Monsieur de Latour. He therefore smiled significantly.
“Oh,” he said, “I fancied Madame de Beauregard would turn up at Dinard about this time! In my last communication to her concerning her niece I mentioned that I would be at Dinard for the month of August.”
“And you think she came here to see you?” asked Mademoiselle Cheri, with a suspicious innocence.
“Oh, no, no, no, I never said that! But she is a very fascinating woman, and the man who marries her will get an ancestral seat which carries with it a title.”
“I think,” responded Mademoiselle Cheri calmly, “that you are likely to have one ancestral seat too many now.”