The Maid of Honour. Wingfield Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ in bucolic occupations. Old customs were giving way to new-fangled habits borrowed from other nations. You were offered tea as in England instead of coffee, and were invited to join in the game of "boston," brought from the infant republic beyond seas by the followers of Lafayette. Dress, except at the Parisian court, grew simpler. Ladies, instead of brocaded damasks, wore muslins and flimsy materials. Men donned garments of plain cloth instead of satin or velvet. Noble dames grown tired of expensive jewellery affected a badge made of some hero's head executed in miniature. Franklin's or Rousseau's profile was modish, though the more sentimental preferred a pet cat's portrait set on a ribbon in place of a diadem and feathers. Emancipated from trains and furbelows, you could now really move about in the country without much discomfort.

      The court circle was perforce a narrow one. Those who had not the entrée to Versailles withdrew to their estates when the queen retired to Trianon, and there drank milk and made believe to hunt, or acted tragedies and spouted epic poesy, pretending to be vastly entertained; not but what they were ready to rush back to the capital with all despatch when Fashion declared it possible.

      But then, of late years, the decrees of Fashion had been sorely interfered with by that aggressive Third Estate. Refusal to pay rents was annoying, but an evil to which all were accustomed. In some parts evil-disposed persons declared landlords to be the natural foes of the sovereign people, and discussed how the vermin was to be got rid of. A deep-rooted, bitter hate, sprung from long and systematic oppression, divided class from class by an intangible but impenetrable barrier; a hate that grew all the stronger, in that it had long been veiled by fear and lashed by supercilious scorn. Republicanism was in execrable taste--a subject for contemptuous laughter on the part of the provincial seigneurie. Its exponents bore on a pole a turnip with a candle in it, which could frighten none but children. The country nobility attached no special meaning to the unseemly snarling. Until the great crash came, and the rural palaces were sacked and burned, the seigneurie never fully realized the thinness of the crust they had been dancing on. In certain provinces it had been unsafe for some time past for landlords to show their noses at all, much less prate of paying rent. These not unwillingly left their chateaux to fate, whereby the condition of small shopkeepers and such local fry was not ameliorated. In more favoured districts dislike and discontent lay smouldering, and my lords were still free to amuse themselves with their guests from town, indifferent to the feelings of the masses.

      The de Vaux family were not of the court circle; indeed, they rarely travelled to the metropolis, but were content to ape its manners from a distance. The trio were dull enough, as narrow in their views and as obstinately fixed in the tenets of their grandsires as most country gentlefolk are, but they were well intentioned, and availed themselves of the earliest opportunity to pay their respects at Lorge. Gabrielle received them with open arms. Was she not bent on inaugurating a new era for herself and Clovis, and had she not been informed by her father's unseemly merriment, that it is not well to bore a husband? Not that the newcomers, who had driven over in the craziest of shanderydans, showed signs of being an acquisition. On the contrary. Long before the sun went down, Gabrielle felt that she could see too much of Madame de Vaux, while Clovis listened, marvelling, to the old gentleman's platitudes which were at least a century old.

      The baroness was not slow to tumble out upon the floor her peck of troubles. She always had a waggon-load about her. Angelique examined the gown of the marquise with absorbed interest. The baron lectured on affairs, with an occasional raid into his wife's country, to rout her army of Jeremiads.

      "Figure to yourself, my dear," groaned Madame de Vaux, after a refreshing pinch of snuff, "that though we have had little disturbance here so far, we are surrounded by snakes in the grass. Our Angelique is always doing something for the ungrateful monsters who, when her back's turned, gnash their teeth. All last winter, in spite of the hard times, we distributed broken victuals to the destitute, and they said that the refuse from our table had already been refused by the dogs. Did you ever hear the like? Horrid, spiteful, ungrateful creatures!"

      "They know no better," replied Angelique, with a contemptuous curl of the lip. "We can afford to laugh at them and their threats when we are conscious of having done our duty."

      "My brave child!" ejaculated madame with fervour; "what a comfort to be mother of a child who would rise equal to any emergency!"

      "Noblesse oblige!" snorted the baron, proudly. "We may be poor and compelled to fill ourselves with over much bouilli, but our blood is of the ancestral colour. A daughter of yours and mine, madame, would, of course, be equal to an emergency."

      The sentiment was mighty fine--one that might not be disputed. Clovis languidly bowed and murmured something polite, while Gabrielle yawned behind her fan. Good gracious! Was the intercourse of the new neighbours to consist in mutual admiration of pedigrees?

      The marquis turned the conversation to his favourite subject. Had the baron, who doubtless was acquainted with matters of current interest, by means of the Gazette, at all occupied himself with animal magnetism?

      With what? A pretty subject for gentlefolk! Rumour had already whispered that the young marquis's pursuits were uncanny. The baron glanced at the baroness, who looked unutterable things, while Angelique detected a shade of sadness flitting over the face of the marquise.

      "God forbid!" cried the old lady, leaping into the breach, "that we should know aught of devil's sabbats."

      Clovis laughed, amused. "It is so easy to denounce what we do not comprehend," he observed, demurely. "Some day, when you are howling with pain, we will drive over to Montbazon, and cure you by laying on of hands."

      Gabrielle frowned. Such an ill-chosen expression, a parody on Holy Writ, or something like it! She began to perceive that it might not be so easy to vanquish Mesmer, and, seeing them as shocked as she was, felt rather anxious to be rid of her guests.

      "I won't be cured by devils!" stoutly declared the baroness. "I'd rather grin and bear it."

      "For my part, I care little to inquire into the means, provided that I am cured," civilly remarked Angelique.

      Here was one ready for conversion! Clovis woke up, and drawing his chair closer, detailed with eager admiration the triumphs of the prophet, to which the baron listened with the polite sceptical smile that becomes one who is a noble--a superior person--and knows it. Gabrielle looked grave and apologetic. The ground was slippery, and the baroness, agile, despite her figure, again jumped into the breach.

      "Yes. Just one more dish of tea, my sweetest marquise," she cried, "and then we must go home to Montbazon. When you come to see us, if you like to walk, you have only to cross the river in a boat, you know, and the distance by the bridle-path is nothing. But I would not wander alone if I were you, there are such sinister men about. Do you know--of course you don't--that you've a nice thorn in your own side that will soon prick you--he! he! That Jean Boulot of yours is a shocking character, one of the odious, deceitful, crawling kind, which is the worst of all!"

      "Nothing of the sort, my dear!" interrupted the baron. "His opinions are regretable, but he is a rough, honest fellow who professes a humble fondness for the de Brèze family, which does him honour!"

      "And in the same breath he derides the aristocracy!" retorted the old lady, with a giggle.

      "Which can well look after itself!" replied her husband.

      "Take my advice, dear, and get rid of him, or you'll regret it," urged the baroness.

      "He's a confidential servant, who was born and bred here!" objected Gabrielle. "He and those who went before have always served us well, and Jean would not hurt a hair of any of our heads, I warrant. He did something silly the other day in the way of talking nonsense, and my father rated him for it. That episode is over and forgotten."

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