Part 5
And then Mademoiselle Cheri presented Julie. The instant Monsieur de Latour’s eyes rested upon Julie a sudden change came over his feelings. He became acutely conscious of her youth, her beauty, her charm. When a man is in Monsieur de Latour’s state of mind, having decided to marry and is merely considering the choice of a lady, he looks at every member of the sex with a critical eye--the whole fair is his as long as he has sixpence in his pocket. The idea recurred to him that he might select, as the future Madame de Latour, a young and pretty girl. He wished to see something more of the pretended Mademoiselle de Courcey, but it occurred to him at once that he had created rather an awkward complication by his firmly expressed determination not to engage Julie on account of her youth as companion for Mélanie on any terms whatever. Mélanie was delighted, however, and Louis secretly diverted, when Monsieur de Latour promptly began to promenade up and down the terrace by the side of Julie. Louis, by way of giving Julie a chance, took Mademoiselle Cheri and Mélanie off into a corner where there were some decayed seats--everything about the Chateau of Montplaisir was decayed--and while ostensibly showing them the view, saw Julie sailing into the old gentleman’s good graces in the most unequivocal manner. Julie, with downcast eyes and the most demure air in the world, was playing off her little practical joke on her trustee, while Monsieur de Latour, blandly unconscious that he was being hoodwinked by the artful young person at his side, was thinking that, after all, no woman is too young for any man, and rapidly coming to the determination to have Julie at any price as a member of his family circle.
Not one word on the subject of business was exchanged between them as they promenaded up and down for half an hour. The beauties of the sea and sky, the charms of Dinard, the latest plays in Paris, the last poems and romances, were the subjects on which Julie--the artful Julie--chose to entertain Monsieur de Latour, who was only too willing to be entertained. Being a very clever young person she realised all the headway she was making, and was not in the least surprised when Monsieur de Latour said impressively, after a while:
“Now, my dear mademoiselle, when the subject of your being my niece’s companion was first broached and I heard of your youth and--ah--extreme beauty and charm, I said that, notwithstanding your acquirements and accomplishments, you were not old enough to be my niece’s companion, who would also be her chaperon.”
“O dear Monsieur de Latour,” answered Julie in her sweetest voice and demurest manner, “you have no idea how sedate I am. I am serious beyond my years.” Which was quite true when she had a mischievous project on hand.
“I know--I know,” remarked Monsieur de Latour. “I see that you are prudence and primness and propriety itself. But--but--the world won’t think so.”
“If you, Monsieur de Latour, thought me old enough to be your niece’s companion, all the world--I mean our world, that is--would think so, too, because everybody respects your judgment.”
This was laying on the flattery where it would do the most good, and Monsieur de Latour smiled delightedly.
“You are very good,” he said. “Some people do think me a person of sense. But, although I cannot possibly engage you as my niece’s companion, another scheme occurs to me by which she can have the benefit of your charming society, and I, too, I hope, in a measure”--this in a very low voice so that Mademoiselle Cheri, whom Monsieur de Latour supposed to be consumed with jealousy at the other end of the terrace, could not hear.
“Any scheme which you advocate, monsieur, will be highly agreeable to me,” replied Julie, seeing that she had brought down her quarry at the first shot.
“It is this--I foresee that I shall have immediate need of a private secretary. Of course, in my business I have persons to do that sort of work, but a private secretary must be a member of my family, and you are the only person whom I have yet seen whom I should be willing to have in that position. Do you happen to have stenography among your accomplishments?”
“What is that?” asked Julie innocently.
“Oh, well, never mind! Did you ever do any typewriting?”
“No, indeed,” replied Julie, laughing, “but I have seen a typewriting machine two or three times.”
“Well, that’s no matter--I can get along without that.”
“But I can write,” said Julie.
Monsieur de Latour remembered that the only writing of hers which he had seen was far from legible, but he was not going to let a thing like ignorance of stenography or typewriting, or even the inability to write a good, plain hand stand in the way of his engaging a pretty girl as secretary.
“Well, well,” he continued confidently, “I think we can manage. I myself write a good, legible, commercial hand, and I could assist you.”
“Oh, if you would be so kind,” cried Julie, “I should think it would be perfectly charming! I never thought I could be a private secretary, but I am sure if I have neither stenography nor typewriting to do and you will write your own letters, that I could fill the place acceptably.”
“Certainly, certainly you can,” replied Monsieur de Latour. “And as for salary, only name your price.”
But Julie was too wary for this.
“Whatever you think, Monsieur de Latour,” she said.
“What do you say to five hundred francs the month?”
“I say five hundred thanks for it,” replied Julie, laughing, to whom five hundred francs was by no means the enormous sum which Monsieur de Latour supposed it would be.
Then came the breaking the news to Mademoiselle Cheri and Mélanie, but, as Monsieur de Latour reflected, they had tormented him to take Julie, and now they would have no right to complain if he took her for his own benefit and not theirs. So he marched up to the group at the other end of the terrace and said oracularly to Mélanie:
“My dear, you have the most indulgent uncle in the world. As soon as I found your heart was set upon having Mademoiselle de Courcey as your companion, I determined to gratify you. It is true that her youth renders her unequal to the position of chaperon, but as Mademoiselle Cheri has kindly consented to take that upon herself as long as we are at Dinard, I think we can arrange to have Mademoiselle de Courcey in another capacity. She is to be my private secretary.”
At that a look of intelligence flashed between Louis and Julie. By some occult means Louis understood that the prospect of being near him had something to do with the present arrangement, and a thrill of delight went through him. Mélanie was immensely pleased, and only Mademoiselle Cheri looked a little disconcerted. Monsieur de Latour thought it was easy to account for this last. All women are jealous.
“So now,” continued Monsieur de Latour grandly, “I hope very much that within ten days we can be established in this wing of the chateau and have some pleasant days together before the end of the season. We shall, of course, find acquaintances here. Among others”--here he turned to Julie, meaning to impress her with the fact that he knew some people at Dinard with handles to their names--“I may reckon the Comtesse de Beauregard, of one of the greatest families in France, but a very terrible old lady, mademoiselle, and much too young for her years. Then she has a friend, General Granier, as old as Methuselah and as gay as a bird. Madame de Beauregard, I think, should be a little more discreet than she is. But some women never seem to realise the passage of time.”
“Nor some men, either,” replied Mademoiselle Cheri. “A woman always realises that she must some day be old, and the idea is too painful to be ignored, but no man, particularly if he is unmarried, ever actually believes that age can touch him, and when he is a complete old wreck he thinks, just as General Granier does, that he is Apollo and Adonis rolled in one.”
This speech annoyed Monsieur de Latour very much. Most people, since he had acquired the power to write his cheque for three hundred thousand francs without seriously inconveniencing himself, treated him with a very great degree of respect, but Séline Cheri seemed unable to discern the difference between him now and in the days when he was a clerk in her father’s soap-factory.
Monsieur de Latour, feeling called upon to justify his somewhat precipitate action in engaging this pretty young lady as his private secretary, and quite determined to have his own way in the matter, remarked to Julie:
“I think, mademoiselle, we must arrange to begin work at the earliest possible moment. I have some very important matters to attend to--business affairs concerning my nephew”--here Monsieur de Latour waved his arm majestically toward Louis--“and myself, so if you could report to me, we will say to-morrow morning at ten o’clock, at the Villa Rose, we could begin work.”
“But why not here, monsieur?” asked Julie innocently. “If the weather is fine, as it promises to be, we could work on the terrace.”
“Quite true. What a very prompt and businesslike young person you are! Very well--if fair, to-morrow morning on the terrace at ten; if rainy, at the Villa Rose.”
Louis, his breath almost taken away by Julie’s proposition, gazed at her in astonishment, but nothing could exceed that young person’s calmness and composure. Mademoiselle Cheri and Mélanie were not much used to private secretaries, and they had been so startled by Monsieur de Latour’s sudden change of mind that nothing further could surprise them. And, besides, as they had both urged him to secure Julie’s companionship for Mélanie, they were hardly in a position to oppose him.
Louis then invited them to inspect his ancestral mansion, which he professed, with the utmost politeness, to consider Monsieur de Latour’s ancestral mansion likewise. The prospect of being established there struck the fancy of them all. It was a unique pleasure, heretofore out of the experience of each, and seemed like the beginning of one of those idyls of times past when a party of congenial persons could segregate themselves in some exquisite spot and keep the whole world at bay.
Old Suzette had, by some hocus-pocus, acquired a supply of fruit and cakes which she served on the terrace, meanwhile scrutinising the party closely and coming rapidly to the conclusion that Monsieur Louis, as she called him, was deeply in love with Mademoiselle Julie, and that Mademoiselle Julie had a soft spot in her heart for Monsieur Louis.
As Louis stood on the terrace watching Julie’s graceful figure disappearing in the shady path below, old Suzette came up, and planting herself with both arms akimbo before him, said, with a broad smile:
“It is the young lady in black, and I have a secret to tell you, monsieur. She is very much in love with you.”
At which Louis joyfully embraced her as he had done Monsieur de Latour, and, printing a sounding kiss on her leathery old cheek, cried out:
“Do you think so? Heaven send you may be right!”
[Illustration]
V
A DUKE, A COMTESSE, A SOAP-BOILER, AND AN AUTO-CAR
The next ten days passed in a whirl of excitement for all of the people associated with the Chateau of Montplaisir. Besides the work going on at the chateau it was necessary to prepare the legal papers making Louis the nephew of Monsieur de Latour, and this gave Monsieur de Latour a valid excuse for Julie’s services. He discovered at once the importance of making copies of everything he wished in his own round, clear, clerk-like hand, for Julie’s writing was expansive and illegible beyond description, so that really Monsieur de Latour acted more as her private secretary than she did as private secretary to him. This, of course, took up much time, and Monsieur de Latour did the hardest work of his life during those ten days. He intrusted Julie, however, with the task of forwarding and receiving his letters and documents, giving emphatic orders that his copy, and not hers, of all those documents go forth to the world, while hers were to be kept merely as duplicates.
Every morning Julie would appear on the terrace, the only spot available, as the chateau swarmed with workmen. There, with her pretty head bent over the rustic table used as a writing-table, she would scribble away industriously, while Monsieur de Latour laboriously copied every word that his charming amanuensis wrote. Louis hovered around, wondering what was to be the outcome of Julie’s escapade.
One of the features of it was that on the second morning that Julie arrived on the terrace she was soon followed by the appearance of the Comtesse de Beauregard, her faithful attendant, General Granier, and Eugène de Contiac, whom the old lady kept a strict watch upon lest he should go to church or take to reading sermons. Monsieur de Latour felt highly honoured at being tracked to his lair, so to speak, by so great a lady as the Comtesse de Beauregard, and when she skipped up to him and playfully prodded him with her parasol he was very much delighted. He had invited her, it was true, to be his guest when he should be in a position to entertain her, but it was extremely gratifying to him that she should anticipate her formal visit in this manner. He greeted her warmly, and Madame de Beauregard’s first speech was:
“So you have a private secretary young enough to be your granddaughter?” And, turning to Julie, she cried: “What is your name, my dear?”
“I am Mademoiselle Julie de Courcey,” responded Julie, acting her part quite as well as Madame de Beauregard.
“Very well--I like your independence, and this afternoon, if you will come down to the promenade, we will have tea together.”
General Granier seemed to know Julie also, as did Eugène de Contiac, but Monsieur de Latour, remembering that his private secretary’s connections were high, was not surprised at this. Madame de Beauregard insisted upon being shown through the chateau, and was so pleased with it that she reminded Monsieur de Latour of his invitation to visit the chateau, saying she meant to come and bring all her family and friends and remain for several weeks as soon as the place was habitable.
“And remember, monsieur,” she continued roguishly. “I shall require at least six rooms--a bedroom, dressing-room, and saloon for myself, a bedroom for my maid, one for Eugène de Contiac, and one for my lawyer, Monsieur Bertoux, when he arrives, because I foresee that I shall soon have to change my will. Ever since my nephew here came within reach of your estimable niece he has been going to the good very fast indeed. I have reason to believe that he sneaks off to church secretly every morning, and General Granier tells me he does not think I shall ever be able to make a man of Eugène.”
Eugène at this looked very sheepish and mumbled:
“I haven’t been in bed before two o’clock a night since I came to Dinard.”
“By the way,” cried Madame de Beauregard, “I sha’n’t require a room for my niece and your ward. She is in Paris, nursing an old cousin of ours, who has been quite ill.”
“But I thought,” responded Monsieur de Latour, a little puzzled, “that you said she was in the country, and then you said she was in a convent, and a few other places.”
“And now I say she is in Paris,” tartly replied Madame de Beauregard. “My dear man, do you think that my niece, a girl brought up by me, sticks in one place like a gate-post planted in the ground? No, indeed! My niece has too much of the spirit and independence which my nephew lacks. I don’t know how in the world Providence ever came to make such a mistake as to send Julie into the world a girl, and this milksop, Eugène de Contiac, a boy. But Providence does make ridiculous blunders--there’s no doubt about that.”
Monsieur de Latour did not know whether this was heterodoxy or not, but he did know that Madame de Beauregard was a comtesse of one of the greatest families in France, and was coming to visit him, and thinking Providence could take care of itself, made no attempt to defend its acts.
“I shall be most pleased, madame,” he said gallantly, “if your niece will accompany you when you pay me the visit you promise, and I need not say that the whole chateau will be at your disposal, and in this, my nephew, I am sure, will unite with me.”
To this Louis assented politely, but in truth knew not whether to be more frightened or pleased at Madame de Beauregard’s threatened invasion of the chateau. Her presence, it was true, would give a certain protection to Julie when her escapade was found out, as it must be, but the old lady was such a persistent encourager of everything in the nature of a lark that there was no telling what would happen if she were on the spot to goad Julie on.
Madame de Beauregard then launched out into a description of her latest fad, automobiling in her sixty-horse-power motor-car, and in these adventures she had the assistance of General Granier and of a semi-royal duke as old and as kittenish as herself. She cackled with delight when she told of running into ditches, lamp-posts, shop-windows, cows, and pedestrians, and of the car turning somersaults and scattering its occupants all over the place. She wound up by inviting Monsieur de Latour to accompany her on an expedition that afternoon, with the semi-royal duke and General Granier, and she guaranteed her machine would do sixty miles the hour continuously. Monsieur de Latour turned pale at the proposition, and paler still when General Granier mentioned that in the last upset his leg, which he always carried loaded, had accidentally gone off and sent a bullet through the hat of the semi-royal duke.
“Do you mean to say,” asked Monsieur de Latour in a shocked voice, of General Granier, “that you keep that leg loaded on these expeditions?”
“Certainly,” answered General Granier, grinning, “I am practising a new feat, shooting at objects as we bowl along at sixty miles an hour.”
“But when you are upset, which seems to occur every time you go out? I should not like to have been in the duke’s place in that last accident.”
“My dear man,” gaily interrupted Madame de Beauregard, “we are not upset more than two or three times a week. And the duke did not mind having his hat spoiled. After all, you can buy a very good hat anywhere for fifteen francs.”
This view of the accident was novel to Monsieur de Latour, but the notion of appearing on the streets of Dinard in a motor-car with Madame de Beauregard and a semi-royal duke, the glorious reputation he would acquire of being a sad dog, the commotion it would make at Brionville, and, above all, the acute misery he imagined it would cause Mademoiselle Cheri, were vastly attractive to him. Madame de Beauregard, however, was not in the habit of leaving gentlemen any choice in accepting her invitations, and demanded that Monsieur de Latour should meet her at a certain place in the town that afternoon at four o’clock. She took a great deal of notice of both Louis and Julie, but did not ask them to accompany her upon the proposed motor-car expedition.
The old lady then departed with her suite. Monsieur de Latour, torn with conflicting emotions about the automobile party, was quite unequal to any work that day, and Louis volunteering to answer some routine letters for him according to general directions, Monsieur de Latour left the two at the writing-table on the terrace, where they spent most of the morning. Monsieur de Latour, wandering like an unquiet ghost about the chateau trying to make up his mind whether he should risk his neck or not in the auto-car that afternoon, noticed vaguely that Louis and Julie appeared to have a great deal to say to each other as they sat at the writing-table in the morning glow and scribbled at intervals.
When Julie took her departure for the Villa Rose shortly after one o’clock Louis went in search of Monsieur de Latour, who was found sitting in one of the deserted rooms, his head in his hands.
“My dear uncle,” asked Louis, “what is the matter?”
“I am considering,” gloomily responded Monsieur de Latour, his ears still in his hands, “whether it is worth while to risk my neck in that auto-car trip this afternoon or not. Besides the danger of being upset and of being run into, there is that terrible risk of being shot by General Granier’s leg.”
“Or drowned,” solemnly added Louis. “The last accident that Madame de Beauregard had the auto-car ran into the sea and headed for the bottom like a submarine boat.”
Monsieur de Latour groaned.
“But you must not flinch,” continued Louis sternly. “You, who aspire to the headship of the house of De Latour, afraid of being drowned or crushed or shot! The De Latours are hard to kill. Have you never heard of that distinguished ancestor of mine who determined to commit suicide because a lady had preferred the favour of the great Napoleon to himself? He swallowed a dose of poison, tied a rope around his neck, took a cocked pistol in his hand, and jumped overboard in the determination to meet death either by poison, hanging, shooting, or drowning. He swallowed so much salt water that he got rid of the poison, and, firing his pistol, cut the rope and was rescued without being in the least injured.”
“Pray Heaven his fate may be mine,” was Monsieur de Latour’s pious comment.
Louis continued urging him, and finally Monsieur de Latour screwed up his courage to the point of making an elaborate toilet and meeting his appointment with Madame de Beauregard at four o’clock. As soon as he had disappeared and might be supposed to be out of the town of Dinard, Louis sallied forth to pay a visit to the ladies at the Villa Rose.
It was not yet five o’clock when he arrived, but on being ushered into the garden, there he found Julie sitting with a piece of needlework in her hand and a look of infantile innocence on her face. Mademoiselle Cheri, who saw from her window Louis’s arrival, came down promptly into the garden; nevertheless, Louis and Julie had a delicious five minutes together, for every moment they spent alone was like paradise to both of them. Then Mélanie appeared, and Louis exerting all his powers to please, which were considerable, charmed Mademoiselle Cheri and Mélanie almost as much as he did Julie. They had tea merrily together, and it seemed scarcely an hour had passed since Louis’s arrival when they heard a neighbouring clock strike seven.
At the same moment Monsieur de Latour entered the garden. He was a pitiable-looking object. One side of him was all mud and the other side of him all dust, his hat was battered, his coat totally wrecked, and he limped slightly. To the anxious inquiries of the ladies he only replied shortly:
“I have been automobiling with Madame de Beauregard.”
“You have got out of it better than most people,” remarked Louis.