Kitabı oku: «Petticoat Rule», sayfa 11
CHAPTER XVIII
CLEVER TACTICS
As soon as M. Durand had recovered from the shock of Madame la Marquise's sudden invasion of his sanctum, he ran to the portière which he had been watching so anxiously, and, pushing it aside, he disclosed the door partially open.
"Monsieur le Comte de Stainville!" he called discreetly.
"Has she gone?" came in a whisper from the inner room.
"Yes! yes! I pray you enter, M. le Comte," said M. Durand, obsequiously holding the portière aside. "Madame la Marquise only passed through very quickly; she took notice of nothing, I assure you."
Gaston de Stainville cast a quick searching glance round the room as he entered, and fidgeted nervously with a lace handkerchief in his hand. No doubt his enforced sudden retreat at Lydie's approach had been humiliating to his pride. But he did not want to come on her too abruptly, and was chafing now because he needed a menial's help to further his desires.
"You were a fool, man, to place me in this awkward position," he said with a scowl directed at M. Durand's meek personality, "or else a knave, in which case."
"Ten thousand pardons, M. le Comte," rejoined the little man apologetically. "Madame la Marquise scarcely ever comes this way after le petit lever. She invariably retires to her study, and thither I should have had the honour to conduct you, according to your wish."
"You seem very sure that Madame la Marquise would have granted me a private audience."
"I would have done my best to obtain one for M. Le Comte," said M. Durand with becoming modesty, "and I think I should have succeeded.. with tact and diplomacy, Monsieur le Comte, we, who are privileged to."
"Yes, yes!" interrupted Gaston impatiently, "but now?"
"Ah! now it will be much more difficult. Madame la Marquise is not in her study, and."
"And you will want more pay," quoth Gaston with a sneer.
"Oh! Monsieur le Comte." protested Durand.
"Well! how much more?" said the Comte impatiently.
"What does M. le Comte desire?"
"To speak with Madame la Marquise quite alone."
"Heu!.. heu!.. it is difficult.."
But Gaston de Stainville's stock of patience was running low. He never had a great deal. With a violent oath he seized the little man by the collar.
"Two louis, you knave, for getting me that audience now, at once, or my flunkey's stick across your shoulders if you fool me any longer."
M. Durand apparently was not altogether unprepared for this outburst: perhaps his peculiar position had often subjected him to similar onslaughts on the part of irate and aristocratic supplicants. Anyway, he did not seem at all disturbed, and, as soon as the Comte's grip on his collar relaxed, he readjusted his coat and his cravat, and holding out his thin hand, he said meekly:
"The two louis I pray you, Monsieur le Comte. And," he added, when Gaston, with another oath, finally placed the two gold pieces on the meagre palm, "will you deign to follow me?"
He led the way through the large folding doors and thence along the enfilade of gorgeous reception rooms, the corridors, landings and staircase which Lydie herself had traversed just now. Gaston de Stainville followed him at a close distance, acknowledging with a curt nod here and there the respectful salutations of the many lackeys whom he passed.
M. le Comte de Stainville was an important personage at Court: Madame de Pompadour's predilection for him was well known, and His Majesty himself was passing fond of the gallant gentleman's company, whilst Madame la Comtesse was believed to hold undisputed sway over M. le Contrôleur-Général des Finances.
Thus Gaston met with obsequiousness wherever he went, and this despite the fact that he was not lavish with money. M. Durand would have expected a much heavier bribe from any one else for this service which he was now rendering to the Comte.
Anon the two men reached the terrace. M. Durand then pointed with one claw-like finger to the spinney on the left.
"M. le Comte will find Madame la Marquise in yonder plantation," he said; "as for me, I dare not vacate my post any longer, for M. le Contrôleur might have need of me, nor would Monsieur le Comte care mayhap to be seen by Madame la Marquise in my company."
Gaston assented. He was glad to be rid of the mealy-mouthed creature, of whose necessary help in this matter he was heartily ashamed. Unlike Lydie, he was quite unconscious of the beauty of this August day: neither the birds nor the acrid scent of late summer flowers appealed to his fancy, and the clump of young beech trees only interested him in so far as he hoped to find Lydie there, alone.
When he reached the little glade, he caught sight of the graceful figure, half-sitting, half-reclining in the unconscious charm of sleep. Overcome by the heat and the glare, Lydie had dozed off momentarily.
Presently something caused her to open her eyes and she saw Gaston de Stainville standing there looking at her intently.
She was taken at a disadvantage, since she had undoubtedly been asleep – if only for a moment – and she was not quite sure if her pose, when Gaston first caught sight of her, was sufficiently dignified.
"I am afraid I have disturbed you," he said humbly.
"I was meditating," she replied coldly, as she smoothed down her skirts and mechanically put a hand to her hair, lest a curl had gone astray.
Then she made as if she would rise.
"Surely you are not going?" he pleaded.
"I have my work to do. I only stayed here a moment, in order to rest."
"And I am intruding?"
"Oh, scarcely," she replied quietly. "I was about to return to my work."
"Is it so urgent?"
"The business of a nation, M. le Comte, is always urgent."
"So urgent that you have no time now to give to old friends," he said bitterly.
She shrugged her shoulders with a quick, sarcastic laugh.
"Old friends?.. Oh!."
"Yes, old friends," he rejoined quietly. "We were children together, Lydie."
"Much has occurred since then, Monsieur le Comte."
"Only one great and awful fault, which meseems hath been its own expiation."
"Need we refer to that now?" she asked calmly.
"Indeed, indeed, we must," he replied earnestly. "Lydie, am I never to be forgiven?"
"Is there aught for me to forgive?"
"Yes. An error, a grave error.. a fault, if you will call it so."
"I prefer to call it a treachery," she said.
"Without one word of explanation, without listening to a single word from me. Is that just?"
"There is nothing that you could say now, Monsieur le Comte, that I should have the right to hear."
"Why so?" he said with sudden vehemence, as he came nearer to her, and in a measure barred the way by which she might have escaped. "Even a criminal at point of death is allowed to say a few words in self-defence. Yet I was no criminal. If I loved you, Lydie, was that wrong?.. I was an immeasurable fool, I own that," he added more calmly, being quick to note that he only angered her by his violence, "and it is impossible for a high-minded woman like yourself to understand the pitfalls which beset the path of a man, who has riches, good looks mayhap and a great name, all of which will tempt the cupidity of certain designing women, bent above all on matrimony, on influence and independence. Into one of these pitfalls I fell, Lydie.. fell clumsily, stupidly, I own, but not inexcusably."
"You seem to forget, M. le Comte," she said stiffly, "that you are speaking of your wife."
"Nay!" he said with a certain sad dignity, "I try not to forget it. I do not accuse, I merely state a fact, and do so before the woman whom I most honour in the world, who was the first recipient of my childish confidences, the first consoler of my boyhood's sorrows."
"That was when you were free, M. le Comte, and could bring your confidences to me; now they justly belong to another and."
"And by the heavens above me," he interrupted eagerly, "I do that other no wrong by bringing my sorrows to you and laying them with a prayer for consolation at your feet."
He noted that since that first desire to leave him, Lydie had made no other attempt to go. She was sitting in the angle of the rough garden seat, her graceful arm resting on the back, her cheek leaning against her hand. A gentle breeze stirred the little curls round her head, and now, when he spoke so earnestly and so sadly about his sorrow, a swift look of sympathy softened the haughty expression of her mouth.
Quick to notice it, Gaston nevertheless in no way relaxed his attitude of humble supplication; he stood before her with head bent, his eyes mostly riveted on the ground.
"There is so little consolation that I can give," she said more gently.
"There is a great one, if you will but try."
"What is it?"
"Do not cast me out from your life altogether. Am I such a despicable creature that you cannot now and then vouchsafe me one kind look?.. I did wrong you.. I know it… Call it treachery if you must, yet when I look back on that night, meseems I am worthy of your pity. Blinded by my overwhelming love for you, I forgot everything for one brief hour.. forgot that I had sunk deeply in a pitfall – by Heaven through no fault of mine own!.. forgot that another now had a claim on that love which never was mine to give, since it had always been wholly yours… Yes! I forgot!.. the music, the noise, the excitement of the night, your own beauty, Lydie, momentarily addled my brain… I forgot the past, I only lived for the present. Am I to blame because I am a man and that you are exquisitely fair?"
He forced himself not to raise his voice, not to appear eager or vehement. Lydie only saw before her a man whom she had once loved, who had grievously wronged her, but who now stood before her ashamed and humbled, asking with utmost respect for her forgiveness of the past.
"Let us speak of it no longer," she said, "believe me, Gaston, I have never borne you ill-will."
For the first time she had used his Christian name. The layer of ice was broken through, but the surface of the lake was still cold and smooth.
"Nay! but you avoid me," he rejoined seeking to meet her eyes, "you treat me with whole-hearted contempt, whilst I would lay down my life to serve you, and this in all deference and honour, as the martyrs of old laid down their life for their faith."
"Protestations, Gaston," she said with a quick sigh.
"Let me prove them true," he urged. "Lydie, I watched you just now, while you slept; it was some minutes and I saw much. Your lips were parted with constant sighs; there were tears at the points of your lashes. At that moment I would have gladly died if thereby I could have eased your heart from the obvious burden which it bore."
Emboldened by her silence, and by the softer expression of her face, he sat down close beside her, and anon placed his hand on hers. She withdrew it quietly and serenely as was her wont, but quite without anger.
She certainly felt no anger toward him. Strangely enough, the anger she did feel was all against her husband. That Gaston had seen her grief was in a measure humiliating to her pride, and this humiliation she owed to the great wrong done her by milor. And Gaston had been clever at choosing his words; he appealed to her pity and asked for forgiveness. There was no attempt on his part to justify himself, and his self-abasement broke down the barrier of resentment which up to now she had set up against him. His respectful homage soothed her wounded pride, and she felt really, sincerely sorry for him.
The fact that her own actions had been so gravely misunderstood also helped Gaston's cause; she felt that, after all, she too might have passed a hasty, unconsidered judgment on him, and knew now how acutely such a judgment can hurt.
And he spoke very earnestly, very simply: remember that she had loved him once, loved and trusted him. He had been the ideal of her girlhood, and though she had remorselessly hurled him down from his high pedestal since then, there remained nevertheless, somewhere in the depths of her heart, a lingering thought of tenderness for him.
"Lydie!" he now said appealingly.
"Yes?"
"Let me be the means of easing your heart from its load of sorrow. You spoke of my wife just now. See, I do not shirk the mention of her name. I swear to you by that early love for you which was the noblest, purest emotion of my life, that I do not wrong her by a single thought when I ask for your friendship. You are so immeasurably superior to all other women, Lydie, that in your presence passion itself becomes exalted and desire transformed into a craving for sacrifice."
"Oh! how I wish I could believe you, Gaston," she sighed.
"Try me!"
"How?"
"Let me guess what troubles you now. Oh! I am not the empty-headed fop that you would believe. I have ears and eyes, and if I hold aloof from Court intrigues, it is only because I see too much of their inner workings. Do you really believe that I do not see what goes on around me now? Do I not know how your noble sympathy must at this very moment be going out to the unfortunate young prince whom you honour with your friendship? Surely, surely, you cannot be a party to the criminal supineness which at this very moment besets France, and causes her to abandon him to his fate?"
"Not France, Gaston," she protested.
"And not you, surely. I would stake my life on your loyalty to a friend."
"Of course," she said simply.
"I knew it," he ejaculated triumphantly, as if this discovery had indeed caused him joyful surprise. "Every fibre in my soul told me that I would not appeal to you in vain. You are clever, Lydie, you are rich, you are powerful. I feel as if I could turn to you as to a man. Prince Charles Edward Stuart honoured me with his friendship: I am not presumptuous when I say that I stood in his heart second only to Lord Eglinton… But because I hold a secondary place I dared not thrust my advice, my prayers, my help forward, whilst I firmly believed that his greater friend was at work on his behalf. But now I can bear the suspense no longer. The crisis has become over-acute. The Stuart prince is in deadly danger, not only from supineness but from treachery."
Clever Gaston! how subtle and how shrewd! she would never have to come to meet him on this ground, but he called to her. He came to fetch her, as it were, and led her along the road. He did not offer to guide her faltering footsteps, he simulated lameness, and asked for assistance instead of offering it.
So clever was this move that Lydie was thrown off her guard. At the word "treachery" she looked eagerly into his eyes.
"What makes you think.. ?" she asked.
"Oh! I have scented it in the air for some days. The King himself wears an air of shamefacedness when the Stuart prince is mentioned. Madame de Pompadour lately hath talked freely of the completion of her château in the Parc aux Cerfs, as if money were forthcoming from some unexpected source; then a letter came from England, which His Majesty keeps hidden in his pocket, whilst whispered conversations are carried on between the King and Madame, which cease abruptly if any one comes within earshot. Then to-day."
"Yes?.. to-day?" she asked eagerly.
"I hardly dare speak of it."
"Why?"
"I fear it might give you pain."
"I am used to pain," she said simply, "and I would wish to know."
"I was in the antechamber when His Majesty arrived for le petit lever of M. le Contrôleur. I had had vague hopes of seeing you this morning, and lingered about the reception rooms somewhat listlessly, my thoughts dwelling on all the sad news which has lately come from Scotland. In the antechamber His Majesty was met by M. le Duc d'Aumont, your father."
He paused again as if loth to speak, but she said quite calmly:
"And you overheard something which the Duke, my father, said to the King, and which confirmed your suspicions. What was it?"
"It was His Majesty who spoke, obviously not aware that I was within earshot. He said quite airily: 'Oh! if we cannot persuade milor we must act independently of him. The Stuart will be tired by now of living in crags and will not be so chary of entrusting his valuable person to a comfortable French ship.' Then M. le Duc placed a hand on His Majesty's arm warning him of my presence and nothing more was said."
"Then you think that the King of France is about to deliver Prince Charles Edward Stuart to his enemies?" she asked calmly.
"I am sure of it: and the thought is more than I can bear. And I am not alone in this, Lydie. The whole of France will cry out in shame at such perfidy. Heaven knows what will come of it ultimately, but surely, surely we cannot allow that unfortunate young prince whom we all loved and fêted to be thus handed over to the English authorities! That is why I have dared intrude on you to-day. Lydie," he added now in a passionate appeal; "for the sake of that noble if misguided young prince, will you try and forget the terrible wrong which I in my madness and blindness once did you? Do not allow my sin to be expiated by him!.. I crave your help for him on my knees… Hate me an you will! despise me and punish me, but do not deny me your help for him!"
His voice, though sunk now almost to a whisper, was vibrating with passion. He half dropped on his knees, took the edge of her skirt between his fingers and raised it to his lips.
Clever, clever Gaston! he had indeed moved her. Her serenity had gone, and her cold impassiveness. She sat up, erect, palpitating with excitement, her eyes glowing, her lips parted, all her senses awake and thrilling with this unexpected hope.
"In what manner do you wish for my help, Gaston?"
"I think the King and M. le Duc will do nothing for a day or two at any rate. I hoped I could forestall them, with your help, Lydie, if you will give it. I am not rich, but I have realized some of my fortune: my intention was to charter a seaworthy boat, equip her as well as my means allowed and start for Scotland immediately, and then if possible to induce the prince to cross over with me to Ireland, or, with great good luck I might even bring him back as far as Brittany. But you see how helpless I was, for I dared not approach you, and I do not know where I can find the prince."
"And if I do not give you that help which you need?" she asked.
"I would still charter the vessel and start for Scotland," he replied quietly. "I cannot stay here, in inactivity whilst I feel that infamous treachery is being planned against a man with whom I have often broken bread. If you will not tell me where I can find Charles Edward Stuart, I will still equip a vessel and try and find him somehow. If I fail, I will not return, but at any rate I shall then not be a party or a witness to the everlasting shame of France!"
"Your expedition would require great pluck and endurance."
"I have both, and boundless enthusiasm to boot. Two or three friends will accompany me, and my intention was to start for Brest or Le Havre to-night. But if you will consent to help me, Lydie."
"Nay!" she interrupted eagerly. "I'll not help you. 'Tis you who shall help me!"
"Lydie!"
"The plan which you have formed I too had thought on it: the treachery of the King of France, my God! I knew it too. But my plans are more mature than yours, less noble and self-sacrificing, for, as you say, I have power and influence; yet with all that power I could not serve Prince Charles Edward as I would wish to do, because though I have pluck and endurance I am not a man."
"And you want me to help you? Thank God! thank God for that! Tell me what to do."
"To start for Le Havre – not Brest."
"Yes!"
"This afternoon.. reaching Le Havre before dawn."
"Yes."
"There to seek out Le Monarque. She lies in the harbour, and her commander is Captain Barre."
"Yes! yes!"
"You will hand him over a packet, which I will give you anon, and then return here as swiftly as you went."
"Is that all?" he asked in obvious disappointment, "and I who had hoped that you would ask me to give my life for you!"
"The faithful and speedy performance of this errand, Gaston, is worth the most sublime self-sacrifice, if this be purposeless. The packet will contain full instructions for Captain Barre how and where to find Prince Charles Edward. Le Monarque is ready equipped for the expedition, but." she paused a moment as if half ashamed of the admission, "I had no one whom I could entrust with the message."
Gaston de Stainville was too keen a diplomatist to venture on this delicate ground. He had never once mentioned her husband's name, fearing to scare her, or to sting her pride. He knew her to be far too loyal to allow condemnation of her lord by the lips of another man; all he said now was a conventional:
"I am ready!"
Then she rose and held out her hand to him. He bowed with great deference, and kissed the tips of her fingers. His face expressed nothing but the respectful desire to be of service, and not one thought of treachery disturbed Lydie's serenity. Historians have, we know, blamed her very severely for this unconditional yielding of another's secret into the keeping of a man who had already deceived her once; but it was the combination of circumstances which caused her to act thus, and Gaston's masterly move in asking for her help had completely subjugated her. She would have yielded to no other emotion, but that of compassion for him, and the desire to render him assistance in a cause which she herself had so deeply at heart. She had no love for Gaston and no amount of the usual protestations would have wrung a confidence from her. But he had so turned the tables that it appeared that he was confiding in her; and her pride, which had been so deeply humiliated that self-same morning, responded to his appeal. If she had had the least doubt or fear in her mind, she would not have given up her secret, but as he stood so coldly and impassively before her, without a trace of passion in his voice or look, she had absolutely no misgivings.
"I can be in the saddle at four o'clock," he said in the same unemotional tones, "when and how can I receive the packet from you?"
"Will you wait for me here?" she replied. "The packet is quite ready, and the walls of the palace have eyes and ears."
Thus they parted. She full of confidence and hope, not in any way attempting to disguise before him the joy and gratitude which she felt, he the more calm of the two, fearing to betray his sense of triumph, still trembling lest her present mood should change.
Her graceful figure quickly disappeared among the trees. He gave a sigh of intense satisfaction. His Majesty would be pleased, and Madame de Pompadour would be more than kind. Never for a moment did the least feeling of remorse trouble his complacent mind; the dominant thought in him was one of absolute triumph and pride at having succeeded in hoodwinking the keenest statesman in France. He sat down on the garden seat whereon had been fought that close duel between himself and the woman whom he had once already so heartlessly betrayed. He thought over every stage of the past scene and smiled somewhat grimly. He felt quite sure that he individually would never have trusted for the second time a woman who had once deceived him. But Lydie had no such misgivings; as she now sped through the park, she no longer saw its artificiality, its stunted rose trees and the stultified plantations. The air was invigorating to breathe, the fragrance of the flowers was sweet, the birds' twitter was delicious to the ear. There were good and beautiful things in this world, but the best of all was the loyalty of a friend.
