Sir Jasper Carew: His Life and Experience. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ extend to our poor old château by some private arrangement contracted between my grandfather and the then Duc d’Orléans. One of these is Louis’s own son, now living at Venice; the other – you’ll scarcely believe me – yourself! Yes, my dear cousin, you possess a part right over Chasse Loups. There was a day when you might have had the whole I – not my fault that it was not so!’”

      “Is this a lover’s letter, or a lawyer’s, Josephine?” said my father, dryly.

      “Ah, you cannot understand Emile,” said she, artlessly; “he is so unlike the rest of the world, poor fellow! But I ‘ll read on.

      “‘It all comes to this, Fifine: you must give me a release, so they call it, and Louis, if I can find him out, must do something of the same kind; for I am going to be married’ – [she paused for a few seconds, and then read on] ‘to be married to Mademoiselle de Nipernois, sister of Charles de Nipernois. When you went, remember, as a page to the Queen, you never saw ma belle Hortense, for she was educated at Bruges. Alas, oui! so is my episode to end also! Meanwhile I ‘m coming to see you, to obtain your signature to these tiresome papers, and to be, for a while at least, out of the way, since I have been unlucky enough to wound Auguste Vallaume seriously, I ‘m afraid, – all his own fault, however, as I will tell you at another time. Now, can you receive me, – I mean is it convenient? Will it be in any way unpleasant? Does le bon mari like or dislike us French? Will he be jealous of our cousinage?’”

      “On the score of frankness, Josephine, you may tell him I have nothing to complain of,” broke in my father, dryly.

      “Is it not so?” rejoined my mother. “Emile is candor itself.” She read: “‘At all hazards, I shall try, Fifine. If he does not like me, he must banish me. The difficulty will be to know where; for I have debts on all sides, and nothing but marriage will set me right. Droll enough, that one kind of slavery is to be the refuge for another. Some of your husband’s old associates here tell me he is charming, – that he was the delight of all the society at one time. Tell me all about him. I can so readily like anything that belongs to you, I ‘m prepared already to esteem him.’”

      “Most flattering,” murmured my father.

      “‘It will be too late, dear cousin, to refuse me; for when this reaches you, I shall be already on the way to your mountains. – Are they mountains, by the way? – So then make up your mind to my visit, with the best grace you can. I should fill this letter with news of all our friends and acquaintances here, but that I rely upon these very narratives to amuse you when we meet, – not that there is anything very strange or interesting to recount. People marry, and quarrel, and make love, fight, go in debt, and die, in our enlightened age, without the slightest advancement on the wisdom of our ancestors; and except that we think very highly of ourselves, and very meanly of all others, I do not see that we have made any considerable progress in our knowledge.

      “‘I am all eagerness to see you once again. Are you altered? – I hope and trust not. Neither fatter nor thinner, nor paler, nor more carnation, than I knew you; not graver, I could swear. No, ma chère cousine, yours was ever a nature to extract brightness from what had been gloom to others. What a happy inspiration was it of that good Monsieur Carew to relieve the darkness of his native climate by such brilliancy!

      “‘Still, how many sacrifices must this banishment have cost you! Do not deny it, Fifine. If you be not very much in love, this desolation must be a heavy infliction. I have just been looking at the map, and the whole island has an air of indescribable solitude and remoteness, and much further distant from realms of civilization than I fancied. You must be my guide, Fifine; I will accept of no other to all those wonderful sea-caves and coral grottoes which I hear so much of! What excursions am I already planning! what delicious hours, floating over the blue sea, beneath those gigantic cliffs that even in a woodcut look stupendous! And so you live almost entirely upon fish! I must teach your chef some Breton devices in cookery. My old tutor, who was a curé at Scamosse, taught me to dress soles “en gratin,” with two simple herbs to be found everywhere; so that, like Vincent de Paul, I shall be extending the blessings of cultivation in the realms of barbarism. I picture you strolling along the yellow beach, or standing storm-lashed on some lone rock, with your favorite pet seal at your feet.’”

      “Is the gentleman an idiot, or is he only ignorant?” broke in my father.

      My mother gave a glance of half-angry astonishment, and resumed: “‘A thousand pardons, ma chère et bonne; but, with my habitual carelessness, I have been looking at Iceland, and not Ireland, on the map. You will laugh, I’m certain; but confess how natural was the mistake, how similar the names, how like are they, perhaps, in other respects. At all events, I cannot alter what I have written; it shall go, if only to let you have one more laugh at that silly Emile, whose blunders have so often amused you. Pray do not tell your “dear husband” of my mistake, lest his offended nationality should take umbrage; and I am resolved – yes, Fifine, I am determined on his liking me.’”

      My father’s face assumed an expression here that was far too much for MacNaghten’s gravity; but my mother read on, unconcerned: “‘And now I have but to say when I shall be with you. It may be about the 12th – not later than the 20th – of next month. I shall take no one but François with me; I shall not even bring the dogs, only Jocasse, my monkey, – for whom, by the way, I beg to bespeak a quiet room, with a south aspect. I hope the climate will not injure him; but Dr. Reynault has given me numerous directions about his clothing, and a receipt for a white wine posset that he assures me will be very bracing to his nervous system. You have no idea how susceptible he has grown latterly about noise and tumult. The canaille have taken to parade the streets, singing and shouting their odious songs, and Jocasse has suffered much from the disturbance. I mentioned the fact to M. Mirabeau, whom I met at your aunt’s the other night, and he remarked gravely, “It’s a bad time for monkeys just now, – ‘singerie’ has had its day.” The expression struck me as a very hollow, if not a very heartless,’ one; but I may say, en passant, that this same M. Mirabeau, whom it is the fashion to think clever and agreeable, is only abrupt and rude, with courage to say the coarse things that good-breeding retreats from! I am glad to find how thoroughly the Court dislikes him. They say that he has had the effrontery to tell the King the most disagreeable stories about popular discontent, distress, and so forth. I need scarcely say that he met the dignified rebuke such underbred observations merited.

      “‘And now, Fifine, to say adieu until it be my happiness once again to embrace you and that dear Carew, who must have more good qualities than I have known centred in one individual, to deserve you. Think of me, dearest cousin, and do not forget Jocasse.’”

      “The association will aid you much,” said my father, dryly.

      “‘Let him have a cheerful room, and put me anywhere, so that I have a place in your heart. Your dearly attached cousin,

      “‘Emile de Gabriac.’”

      “Is that all?” asked my father, as she concluded.

      “A few words on the turn-down: ‘Hortense has just sent me her picture. She is blond, but her eyes want color; the hair, too, is sandy, and not silky; the mouth – But why do I go on? – it is not Fifine’s.’”

      “Our cousin is the most candid of mortals,” said my father, quietly; “whatever opinion we may entertain of his other gifts, on the score of frankness he is unimpeachable. Don’t you think so, Miss Polly?”

      “His letter is a most unreserved one, indeed,” said she, cautiously.

      And now a silence fell on all, for each was following out in his own way some train of thought suggested by the Count’s letter. As if to change the current of his reflections, my father once more turned to the letter-bag, and busied himself running hastily СКАЧАТЬ