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The Deputy of Arcis, a novel by Honore de Balzac |
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Part 2. Letters Explanatory - Chapter 11. The Comtesse De L'estorade To Madame Octave De Camps |
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_ PART II. LETTERS EXPLANATORY CHAPTER XI. THE COMTESSE DE L'ESTORADE TO MADAME OCTAVE DE CAMPS Paris, May, 1839. Monsieur Dorlange came last evening to take leave of us. He starts to-day for Arcis-sur-Aube, where the ceremony of inaugurating _his_ statue takes place. That is also the place selected by the Opposition journals for his candidacy. Monsieur de l'Estorade declares that the locality could not have been worse chosen, and that it leaves his election without a chance. Monsieur Dorlange paid his visit early. I was alone. Monsieur de l'Estorade was dining with the Minister of the Interior, and the children were in bed. The conversation interrupted by Madame de la Bastie could now be renewed, as I was about to ask him to continue the history, of which he had only told me the last words, when our old Lucas brought me a letter. It was from my Armand, to let me know that he had been ill since morning, and was then in the infirmary. "Order the carriage," I said to Lucas, in a state of agitation you can easily conceive. "But, madame," replied Lucas, "monsieur has ordered the carriage to fetch him at half-past nine o'clock, and Tony has already started." "Then send for a cab." "I don't know that I can find one," said our old servant, who is a man of difficulties; "it is beginning to rain." Without noticing that remark and without thinking of Monsieur Dorlange, I went hastily to my room to put on my bonnet and shawl. That done, I returned to the salon, where my visitor still remained. "You must excuse me, monsieur," I said to him, "for leaving you so abruptly. I must hasten to the Henri IV. College. I could not possibly pass a night in the dreadful anxiety my son's letter has caused me; he tells me he has been ill since morning in the infirmary." "But," replied Monsieur Dorlange, "surely you are not going alone in a hired carriage to that lonely quarter?" "Lucas will go with me." At that moment Lucas returned; his prediction was realized; there was not a coach on the stand; it was raining in torrents. Time was passing; already it was almost too late to enter the school, where masters and pupils go to bed at nine o'clock. "Put on thick shoes," I said to Lucas, "and come with me on foot." Instantly I saw his face lengthen. He is no longer young and loves his ease; moreover, he complains every winter of rheumatism. He made various objections,--that it was very late; that we should "revolutionize" the school; I should take cold; Monsieur Armand could not be very ill if he wrote himself; in short, it was clear that my plan of campaign did not suit my old retainer. Monsieur Dorlange very obligingly offered to go himself in my place and bring me word about Armand; but that did not suit me at all; I felt that I _must_ see for myself. Having thanked him, I said to Lucas in a tone of authority:-- "Get ready at once, for one thing is true in your remarks: it is getting late." Seeing himself driven into a corner, Lucas raised the standard of revolt. "It is not possible that madame should go out in such weather; and I don't want monsieur to scold me for giving in to such a singular idea." "Then you do not intend to obey me?" "Madame knows very well that for anything reasonable I would do what she told me if I had to go through fire to obey her." "Heat is good for rheumatism, but rain is not," I said; then, turning to Monsieur Dorlange, I added: "As you were so kind as to offer to do this errand alone, may I ask you to give me your arm and come with me?" "I am like Lucas," he said, "I do not think this excursion absolutely necessary; but as I am not afraid of being scolded by Monsieur de l'Estorade, I shall have the honor to accompany you." We started. The weather was frightful; we had hardly gone fifty steps before we were soaked in spite of Lucas's huge umbrella, with which Monsieur Dorlange sheltered me at his own expense. Luckily a coach happened to pass; Monsieur Dorlange hailed the driver; it was empty. Of course I could not tell my companion that he was not to get in; such distrust was extremely unbecoming and not for me to show. But you know, my dear friend, that showers of rain have helped lovers from the days of Dido down. However, Monsieur Dorlange said nothing: he saw my anxiety and he had the good taste not to attempt conversation, breaking the silence only from time to time with casual remarks. When we reached the school, after getting out of the carriage to give me his hand he saw for himself that he must not enter the house and he therefore got back into the carriage to await my return. Well, I found Monsieur Armand had hoaxed me. His illness reduced itself to a headache, which departed soon after he had written me. The doctor, for the sake of ordering something, had told him to take an infusion of linden-leaves, telling him that the next day he could go back to his studies. I had taken a club to kill a flea, and committed all sorts of enormities to get there at an hour when the entire establishment were going to bed, only to find my young gentleman perfectly well and playing chess with one of the nurses. On leaving the school I found the rain had ceased and the moon was shining brightly. My heart was full; the reaction from my great anxiety had set in and I felt a need of breathing the fresh air. I therefore proposed to Monsieur Dorlange to dismiss the coach and return on foot. Here was an opportunity for him to make me that long-delayed explanation; but Monsieur Dorlange seemed so little inclined to take advantage of it that, using Monsieur Armand's freak as a text, he read me a lecture on the danger of spoiling children: a subject which was not at all agreeable to me, as he must have perceived from the rather stiff manner with which I listened to him. Come, thought I, I must and will get to the bottom of this history; it is like the tale of Sancho's herdsman, which had the faculty of never getting told. So, cutting short my companion's theories of education, I said distinctly:-- "This is a very good time, I think, to continue the confidence you were about to make to me. Here we are sure of no interruption." "I am afraid I shall prove a poor story-teller," replied Monsieur Dorlange. "I have spent all my fire this very day in telling that tale to Marie-Gaston." "That," I answered laughing, "is against your own theory of secrecy, in which a third party is one too many." "Oh, Marie-Gaston and I count for one only. Besides, I had to reply to his odd ideas about you and me." "What about me?" "Well, he imagined that in looking at the sun I should be dazzled by its rays." "Which means, speaking less metaphorically--?" "That, in view of the singularities which accompanied my first knowledge of you and led me to the honor of your acquaintance, I might expose myself to the danger, madame, of not retaining my reason and self-possession." "And your history refutes this fear in the mind of Monsieur Marie-Gaston?" "You shall judge." And then, without further preamble, he told me a long tale which I need not repeat here; the gist of it is, however, that Monsieur Dorlange is in love with a woman who posed in his imagination for Saint-Ursula; but as this woman appears to be forever lost to him it did not seem to me impossible that in the long run he might transfer his sentiments for her memory to me. When he had finished his tale he asked if I did not think it a victorious answer to the ridiculous fears of our friend. "Modesty," I replied, "obliges me to share your security; but they say that in the army shots frequently ricochet and kill their victims." "Then you think me capable of the impertinence Marie-Gaston is good enough to suspect in me?" "I don't know about its being an impertinence," I said stiffly, "but if such a fancy came into your mind, I should think you very much to be pitied." His answer was vehement. "Madame," he said, "you will not have to pity me. In my opinion, first love is a vaccination which protects us from a second." The conversation stopped there. We had now reached my own door, and I invited Monsieur Dorlange to come in. He accepted my politeness, remarking that Monsieur de l'Estorade had probably returned and he could thus take leave of him. My husband was at home. I don't know whether Lucas, forestalling the rebuke I intended to give him, had made out a story to excuse himself, or whether Monsieur de l'Estorade for the first time in his life, felt, in view of my maternal escapade, a movement of jealousy. It is certain, however, that his manner of receiving me was curt; he called it an unheard-of thing to go out at such an hour, in such weather, to see a boy who proved, by announcing his own illness, that it was nothing serious. After letting him talk in this discourteous way for some little time, I thought it was time to put an end to the scene, so I said in a rather peremptory tone:-- "As I wanted to sleep at night, I went to the school in a pelting rain; I came back by moonlight; and I beg you to remark that monsieur, who was so good as to escort me, has come upstairs to bid you good-bye, because he leaves Paris to-morrow morning." I have habitually enough power over Monsieur de l'Estorade to make this call to order effective; but I saw that my husband was displeased, and that instead of having made Monsieur Dorlange an easy diversion, I had called down upon his head the ill-humor of my ogre, who instantly turned upon him. After telling him that much had been said about his candidacy during dinner at the ministry, Monsieur de l'Estorade began to show him all the reasons why he might expect an overwhelming defeat; namely, that Arcis-sur-Aube was one of the boroughs where the administration felt itself most secure; that a man of extraordinary political ability had already been sent there to manipulate the election, and had made a first report giving triumphant news of his success. These were only generalities, to which Monsieur Dorlange replied with modesty, but also with the air of a man who had resolved who take his chances against all risks to which his election might be exposed. Monsieur de l'Estorade then produced a final shaft which, under the circumstances, was calculated to have a marvellous effect, because it attacked both the candidate and his private life. "Listen to me, my dear monsieur," said my husband, "when a man starts on an electoral career he must remember that he stakes everything; his public life and also his private life. Your adversaries will ransack your present and your past with a pitiless hand, and sorrow to him who has any dark spots to hide. Now I ought not to conceal from you that to-night, at the ministers', much was said about a little scandal which, while it may be venial in the life of an artist, takes proportions altogether more serious in that of the people's representative. You understand me, of course. I refer to that handsome Italian woman whom you have in your house. Take care; some puritanical elector whose own morality may be more or less problematical, is likely to call you to account for her presence." The reply made by Monsieur Dorlange was very dignified. "To those," he said, "who may arraign me on that detail of my private life I wish but one thing--that they may have nothing worse upon their consciences. If I had not already wearied madame on our way from the school with an interminable story, I would tell you the facts relating to my handsome Italian, and you would see, Monsieur le comte, that her presence in my house reflects in no way upon me. "But," returned Monsieur de l'Estorade, softening his tone, "you take my observation rather too seriously. As I said just now, an artist may have a handsome model in his house--that may be natural enough--but she is not a usual piece of furniture in that of a legislator." "No, what seems more to their liking," replied Monsieur Dorlange, with some heat, "is the good they can get for themselves out of a calumny accepted eagerly and without examination. However, far from dreading inquiry on the subject you mention, I desire it, and the ministry will do me a great service if it will employ the extremely able political personage you say they have put upon my path to bring that delicate question before the electors." "Do you really start to-morrow?" asked Monsieur de l'Estorade, finding that he had started a subject which not only did not confound Monsieur Dorlange, but, on the contrary, gave him the opportunity to reply with a certain hauteur of tone and speech. "Yes, and very early too; so that I must now take leave of you, having certain preparations still to make." So saying, Monsieur Dorlange rose, and after making me a rather ceremonious bow and not bestowing his hand on Monsieur de l'Estorade, who, in turn, did not hold out his own, he left the room. "What was the matter with Armand?" asked my husband, as if to avoid any other explanation. "Never mind Armand," I said, "it is far more interesting to know what is the matter with you; for never did I see you so out of tune, so sharp and uncivil." "What! because I told a ridiculous candidate that he would have to go into mourning for his reputation?" "In the first place, that was not complimentary; and in any case the moment was ill-chosen with a man on whom my maternal anxiety had just imposed a disagreeable service." "I don't like meddlers," retorted Monsieur de l'Estorade, raising his voice more than I had ever known him do to me. "And after all, if he had not been here to give you his arm you would not have gone." "You are mistaken; I should have gone alone; for your servant, being master here, refused to accompany me." "But you must certainly admit that if any acquaintance had met you at half-past nine o'clock walking arm-in-arm with Monsieur Dorlange the thing would have seemed to them, to say the least, singular." Pretending to discover what I had known for the last hour, I exclaimed:-- "Is it possible that after sixteen years of married life you do me the honor to be jealous. Now I see why, in spite of your respect for proprieties, you spoke to Monsieur Dorlange in my presence of that Italian woman whom people think his mistress; that was a nice little perfidy by which you meant to ruin him in my estimation." Thus exposed to the light, my poor husband talked at random for a time, and finally had no resource but to ring for Lucas and lecture him severely. That ended the explanation. What do you think of this conjugal proceeding, by which my husband, wishing to do a man some harm in my estimation, gave him the opportunity to appear to the utmost advantage? For--there was no mistaking it--the sort of emotion with which Monsieur Dorlange repelled the charge was the cry of a conscience at peace with itself, and which knows itself able to confound a calumny. _ |
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