The Maid of Honour. Wingfield Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ a democrat, or worse, if possible," asserted the baroness with many nods. "Capable of anything, my dear; get rid of him; a scorpion!" she continued, wagging her head; and content with this first impression, the old lady gathered up her wraps, and with an elaborate curtsey, swept away the family, delighted with the effect she had produced.

      Neither Gabrielle nor Clovis were equally charmed. These tiresome people were their only neighbours! Then it must be solitude indeed. Angelique seemed a nice girl enough; but the baroness was overwise in her own conceit; and the baron ridiculously puffed with the overweening vanity of class. If the pair were to live absolutely alone, Gabrielle, doubting her own strength of will and power of fascination, already trembled for her experiment. Where could society be found which should rub off the jagged edges of a tête-à-tête? The chateaux round about were unoccupied. Nobody dwelt at Blois except bourgeoisie and common persons. Perhaps this move into the desert had been imprudent. Well, if it proved disastrous, they could return to Paris and no harm done, considering how far apart they had drifted already. A little society--just two or three congenial persons--would make all the difference; but where might such fowls be caught?

      What of this communication about Jean Boulot? surely it was idle tittle-tattle, born in the murky brain of a stupid old woman. He a scorpion on the hearth, to be got rid of before he could sting? The charge was ridiculous, and yet demanded attention, considering the Bastile episode such a brief while ago. And he was engaged to Toinon too. Under the seal of strictest secrecy that damsel had shared her delicious secret with her foster-sister, and the latter with a hearty kiss had wished her joy. It was only fair to both the lovers that the matter should be cleared up, and to that end the damsel must be cross-examined.

      When charged with the lamentable leanings of her affianced, Toinon made no attempt to laugh the matter off. She was fain to confess herself disappointed in Jean Boulot. He was too straightforward to stoop to knavery. You only had to look into his fearless, clear grey eyes to be assured of it; but his sentiments were distressing. He told his love when she remonstrated that reason and justice could only be departed from by paths watered with tears; and when she retorted that he would certainly be hanged if he were heard to indulge in such talk, he only shrugged his shoulders and remarked that the gallows were made for the unlucky. In the middle of an impressive lecture he snatched a kiss and laughed, and actually confessed with something that looked like pride that he had just been selected from among his fellows to be chief of some new society. He was constantly moving about among the rustics discoursing about the improvement of their condition at the expense of a superior class. All Toinon could be sure of was that Jean was beyond her control. Perhaps madame might succeed in managing the young man and bring him to a sense of his enormities.

      The experiment was not crowned with success, for instead of confessing his sins with a mea culpa, Jean smiled and delivered himself of various mysterious hints. "Never you fear," he asserted, cheerfully, "whatever may happen by and by, you and yours shall be defended with my best blood; not but what a glimpse of your sweet face will be enough to calm the boys, however spitefully inclined. As to the others--H'm!"

      Enigmatical and unsatisfactory.

      It was certainly very dull in the desert; and before many weeks were over, the marquise was prepared secretly to admit that her father had judged rightly. She was no nearer to her husband here than in Paris; and caught herself longing more and more for those two or three congenial persons who were unattainable. It is all very well to wrap yourself in your children, to watch the young intelligence unfolding tender leaves, to mark and record with little thrills of joy each new sally of infant wit; but carefully nurtured babes retire early to the nest, and long evening hours have to be got through which are apt to hang heavy on the hands. There was absolutely no one to talk to, Gabrielle was not of a studious turn, avoiding the library as a close and musty place, had no penchant for embroidery, cared not to tinkle on a spinette. Clovis, on the other hand, professed himself delighted with the unbroken solitude where there was nobody to plague him with politics; employed his time in writing reams to Mesmer, and counting the days which must elapse before he could receive replies. When weary of considering the pros and cons of the prophet's theories, he locked himself in his study, and could be heard far into the night groaning sonatas on his 'cello. Oh, that 'cello! Its moans were extremely wearing to Gabrielle's nerves, for it always suggested to her a coffin with some one in agony inside. Weave new bands of affection, forsooth, far from the madding crowd! How doleful a deception was hers.

      The marquis seemed to have forgotten that he was father of two cherubs, was certainly oblivious of the fact that his better half was a reigning beauty, who, in her prime was self-deposed. Sometimes he would sally forth on solitary rides, and return, depressed and dumb, to fall asleep in his chair. It was certain that the pair were drifting more fatally distant from each other in the country even than in town. This was not life, but vegetation; sure any change would be a godsend.

      At one moment the hapless marquise thought of summoning a bevy of the danglers whom she had loftily pretended to despise; but, if they were to come--unable to get on with Clovis--how were they to be amused? At another time she was on the point of imploring the maréchal and his wife to break the bonds of dulness by a visit, but then again she hesitated. How was she to parry her father's anxious questions, how avoid his sympathetic eyes? No. Come what might, she would bear what she must bear, and veil her wounds from her beloved ones.

      Now and again the de Vaux family drove over to spend the afternoon, and the visit was in due course returned; but though all parties were punctiliously civil and vowed they enjoyed themselves immensely, it was clear to both families that no intimacy could arise between them.

      Gabrielle was almost driven to lower her flag and retire from the field; was indeed debating how she should set about it with dignity, when that for which she craved was suddenly tossed into her lap.

      One morning, the marquis actually so far broke through his secluded habits, as without a formal message sent in advance, to invade his wife's boudoir. Her heart gave a great bound, and looking up from the children's hornbook in glad surprise, she smiled gratefully on him. Was this a first advance? She was determined that the visit should be a pleasant one, and to that end proceeded forthwith to trot out the prodigies. He had no idea, she prattled, how vast were their acquirements. They knew ever so many wondrous things which would no doubt delight their parent. Straightway, like little clockwork parrots, well-wound up, the infants chirped forth their lore, while the marquis's face increased in length, the while with well-bred courtesy he made believe to listen. His dreamy eyes wandered over a map of varied stains on their dirty little pinafores. They diffused an aroma of bread and butter; their angel fingers shone with grease. Their acquirements, he coldly agreed when they had run down, were remarkable for tender years, and the weather being fine they had better run out and play.

      Gabrielle sighed. Mere politeness--such politeness as a wearied but courteous stranger might bestow--in which was no scintilla of affection. Unnatural parent! After all, the darlings were perchance a trifle juvenile to interest a man. Men, as a rule, can see no beauty in babes and sucklings; vote them revolting lumps of adipose tissue; but then, sweet Victor and Camille were not babies, for one was five and the other four--were enjoying that most fascinating period of existence when we are never clean, and are always falling down and crying.

      The unappreciated angels having shrieked off down the long drawing-rooms, there to tumble, hurt themselves, and howl, Clovis sat down and explained the cause of his irruption.

      "A letter! Good news or bad?" inquired Gabrielle, with a presentiment of evil.

      "That depends how you read it," returned her husband, quietly. "As you are aware, I never inflicted my uncongenial presence overmuch on you; never sought to know why you were so ready to abdicate your brilliant position in Paris to suit a passing whim of mine, but I was none the less obliged by your compliance. I now wish you to please yourself, and make arrangements for the future, such as may suit your views."

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