The Best Works of Balzac. Оноре де Бальзак

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ whom he looked with peculiar attention.

      “Mamma, will you take some more hare? Mademoiselle, you are not eating,” said the sailor to Francine, seeming busy with the guests.

      But Hulot’s astonishment and Mademoiselle de Verneuil’s close observation had something too dangerously serious about them to be ignored.

      “What is it, citizen?” said the young man, abruptly; “do you know me?”

      “Perhaps I do,” replied the Republican.

      “You are right; I remember you at the School.”

      “I never went to any school,” said the soldier, roughly. “What school do you mean?”

      “The Polytechnique.”

      “Ha, ha, those barracks where they expect to make soldiers in dormitories,” said the veteran, whose aversion for officers trained in that nursery was insurmountable. “To what arm do you belong?”

      “I am in the navy.”

      “Ha!” cried Hulot, smiling vindictively, “how many of your fellow-students are in the navy? Don’t you know,” he added in a serious tone, “that none but the artillery and the engineers graduate from there?”

      The young man was not disconcerted.

      “An exception was made in my favor, on account of the name I bear,” he answered. “We are all naval men in our family.”

      “What is the name of your family, citizen?” asked Hulot.

      “Du Gua Saint-Cyr.”

      “Then you were not killed at Mortagne?”

      “He came very near being killed,” said Madame du Gua, quickly; “my son received two balls in—”

      “Where are your papers?” asked Hulot, not listening to the mother.

      “Do you propose to read them?” said the young man, cavalierly; his blue eye, keen with suspicion, studied alternately the gloomy face of the commandant and that of Mademoiselle de Verneuil.

      “A stripling like you to pretend to fool me! Come, produce your papers, or—”

      “La! la! citizen, I’m not such a babe as I look to be. Why should I answer you? Who are you?”

      “The commander of this department,” answered Hulot.

      “Oh, then, of course, the matter is serious; I am taken with arms in my hand,” and he held a glass full of Bordeaux to the soldier.

      “I am not thirsty,” said Hulot. “Come, your papers.”

      At that instant the rattle of arms and the tread of men was heard in the street. Hulot walked to the window and gave a satisfied look which made Mademoiselle de Verneuil tremble. That sign of interest on her part seemed to fire the young man, whose face had grown cold and haughty. After feeling in the pockets of his coat he drew forth an elegant portfolio and presented certain papers to the commandant, which the latter read slowly, comparing the description given in the passport with the face and figure of the young man before him. During this prolonged examination the owl’s cry rose again; but this time there was no difficulty whatever in recognizing a human voice. The commandant at once returned the papers to the young man, with a scoffing look.

      “That’s all very fine,” he said; “but I don’t like the music. You will come with me to headquarters.”

      “Why do you take him there?” asked Mademoiselle de Verneuil, in a tone of some excitement.

      “My good lady,” replied the commandant, with his usual grimace, “that’s none of your business.”

      Irritated by the tone and words of the old soldier, but still more at the sort of humiliation offered to her in presence of a man who was under the influence of her charms, Mademoiselle de Verneuil rose, abandoning the simple and modest manner she had hitherto adopted; her cheeks glowed and her eyes shone as she said in a quiet tone but with a trembling voice: “Tell me, has this young man met all the requirements of the law?”

      “Yes—apparently,” said Hulot ironically.

      “Then, I desire that you will leave him, apparently, alone,” she said. “Are you afraid he will escape you? You are to escort him with me to Mayenne; he will be in the coach with his mother. Make no objection; it is my will—Well, what?” she added, noticing Hulot’s grimace; “do you suspect him still?”

      “Rather.”

      “What do you want to do with him?”

      “Oh, nothing; balance his head with a little lead perhaps. He’s a giddy-pate!” said the commandant, ironically.

      “Are you joking, colonel?” cried Mademoiselle de Verneuil.

      “Come!” said the commandant, nodding to the young man, “make haste, let us be off.”

      At this impertinence Mademoiselle de Verneuil became calm and smiling.

      “Do not go,” she said to the young man, protecting him with a gesture that was full of dignity.

      “Oh, what a beautiful head!” said the youth to his mother, who frowned heavily.

      Annoyance, and many other sentiments, aroused and struggled with, did certainly bring fresh beauties to the young woman’s face. Francine, Madame du Gua, and her son had all risen from their seats. Mademoiselle de Verneuil hastily advanced and stood between them and the commandant, who smiled amusedly; then she rapidly unfastened the frogged fastenings of her jacket. Acting with that blindness which often seizes women when their self-love is threatened and they are anxious to show their power, as a child is impatient to play with a toy that has just been given to it, she took from her bosom a paper and presented it to Hulot.

      “Read that,” she said, with a sarcastic laugh.

      Then she turned to the young man and gave him, in the excitement of her triumph, a look in which mischief was mingled with an expression of love. Their brows cleared, joy flushed each agitated face, and a thousand contradictory thoughts rose in their hearts. Madame du Gua noted in that one look far more of love than of pity in Mademoiselle de Verneuil’s intervention; and she was right. The handsome creature blushed beneath the other woman’s gaze, understanding its meaning, and dropped her eyelids; then, as if aware of some threatening accusation, she raised her head proudly and defied all eyes. The commandant, petrified, returned the paper, countersigned by ministers, which enjoined all authorities to obey the orders of this mysterious lady. Having done so, he drew his sword, laid it across his knees, broke the blade, and flung away the pieces.

      “Mademoiselle, you probably know what you are about; but a Republican has his own ideas, and his own dignity. I cannot serve where women command. The First Consul will receive my resignation to-morrow; others, who are not of my stripe, may obey you. I do not understand my orders and therefore I stop short,—all the more because I am supposed to understand them.”

      There was silence for a moment, but it was soon broken by the young lady, who went up to the commandant and held out her hand, saying, “Colonel, though your beard is somewhat СКАЧАТЬ