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CHAPTER XV.
THE SITUATION CHANGES
Gabrielle's injunctions to Monsieur Galland were concise. The maréchal must not be told too much. The good solicitor must keep to himself her worn and haggard aspect. Nor must he relate aught of the eloquent meeting between the mother and her dear ones. The children looked on her with a vague alarm as on one of whom they had learned to be suspicious from hearing unpleasant things. He had been obliged to wipe away another tear-it was a wonder that there remained so much liquid in one so dry and shrunken-ere he stole from the room on tiptoe, leaving the yearning heart to recover its lost sway.
And now began for Madame de Gange a lull of peace, and as her troubled soul regained its equilibrium she marvelled that she should have been patient for so long. The dear father's mandate had been a wand of harlequin transforming with a touch the Cave of the Black Gnome into the Calm Retreat of the Serene Spirit. For several months nothing occurred that was of import to the recluses. By a seeming paradox, the remnants of the affection she had once borne her husband being destroyed, she found that she could get on better with him. There were no more throes of jealousy, no irritating scenes, no midnight weepings with the morning reproach of swollen eyelids-simply because she had renounced a desire for the moon, as he had so often wished she might. That he should shut himself up in his study and pore over the secrets of science, avoiding his better half, was no longer a cause for grief; she cared no more how this time was passed. Had she not got back the stolen treasures in whose interest alone she prayed for a span of life? For many weary months she had been bereaved, and it was an intense delight-a dazzling peep into heaven-to have them once again all to herself with no shadow to fall between. What a joy to mark how the minds of Victor and Camille had expanded in the interval; how the young plants had shot up, putting out fresh leaves of tender green and fragrant blossoms of rich intelligence. The mother thanked God that, search as anxiously as she might, she could find no trace of evil in the children's minds. The singular specimen of womanhood, who happily was gone for ever, had been a real mother to them, had tended them as if they were her own, had packed in the little heads a store of information that to Gabrielle was a source of awe. A very curious mixture was Mademoiselle Brunelle. What she had herself remarked as to the conflicting elements in the female bosom was more true than the conclusion which followed. Whether the angel or the devil obtains mastery does not always depend upon a man. In this case it depended on a woman-Gabrielle. If she had been drowned, Aglaé would, no doubt, have been a model stepmother, and have done everything in her power for the advantage of the young ones. It was her hatred of the chatelaine, due to the misreading of her character, that had put the thought into her head of hurting them in order to inflict pain on her. Perhaps, it was no more than an idle threat to instil terror. When the moment came she would perchance have held her hand and spared them. Perhaps too rough a contact with the sharp edges of the jagged world in early life had warped a nature that was intended to be genial. As she considered these things the forgiving Gabrielle freely pardoned her tormentor for the many stabs she had inflicted. Fear and horror gave place to holy pity, and she resolved to use her influence to procure for her another situation. With suitable surroundings she might succeed in banishing the devil. Those surroundings she had not found at Lorge. That short volume of its sinister history was closed, and must never be re-opened. Whatever else might happen Mademoiselle Aglaé Brunelle must never revisit Lorge.
The magic wand of the old maréchal had even produced an effect upon the abbé. Either he had been frightened into good behaviour, or he had been induced to smother his unholy passion and forego his campaign of menaces. A few days after Aglaé's defeat, during which time he had been ostentatiously humble and obliging, he paid another visit to the chatelaine in her boudoir. For a moment she held her breath. Was the persecution to recommence? As he had never threatened harm to the dear ones, she had spared him in her letter to her father. Must she again cause him sorrow by seeking protection against her husband's brother?
No; heaven was very merciful, and had quite withdrawn its galling hand. The abbé presented himself before her in a new light. His sweet voice was pitched in its most melodious key. His intellectual visage was scored with furrows of anxiety and contrition. He frankly confessed his sins, and humbly craved forgiveness, while tears poured down his cheeks.
"I was mad-driven quite out of myself by your marvellous beauty, Gabrielle," he murmured, in broken accents. "Believe me if you can, after the past, that I am not altogether bad. Forgiveness is a divine attribute which will well become your angelic nature. Like him from whom the unclean spirit was cast, I no longer shriek, and howl, and tear my flesh, but am subdued, clothed, and in my right mind again. I look upon my other self with horror, and praise God for the miracle whereby I am saved. Pardon, Gabrielle; without it I shall never know another instant's peace."
The marquise was much moved by the appeal. She had liked the man and enjoyed his society until, as he explained, he had gone mad. Who was she, who had erred in so many things-had even been so wicked as to try to take her life-that she should punish one who repented?
He had muttered something about going away, removing from her path his execrated presence; had even said with thrilling sadness that he firmly purposed to seek the cloister, and commence a life of penance. She, too, had once thought of the cloister. Indeed, it was upon that hint that Pharamond was acting now; for, alas, alas, the astute one was but playing a new rôle, preparing new foundations for his tumbled house of cards.
It is grievous for the historian to relate that this brilliant son of the Church was altogether heartless. He, who could prate so prettily about forgiveness, had not a grain of pity in his composition. Can a man love and hate at the same time? he had asked himself. No; but he had mistaken a vile grovelling feeling born of ignoble sensuality for love, and that feeling could run in harness in perfect accord side by side with hatred. His beautiful sister-in-law had flouted him, had foiled him, had, with sublime disdain, flung his threats in his face. She had plainly shown him how high above his foul and leprous baseness soared her own simple purity. We may be aware that we are grovelling and vile, and deserve to be held up to the contempt of our fellows in our native ugliness. We may know this, and may endure the knowledge with equanimity, even cynically enjoy and relish it; but to have our vileness tossed in our face by another is quite another thing. The abbé was not one to be baffled and submit to the beating calmly. He was more than ever steadfastly resolved some day to conquer; and being endowed with indomitable patience, washed the slate with plodding care in order to commence afresh.
As his craft had calculated, the marquise was too simple in her goodness and too generous to bear malice. With feelings of intense gratitude that the stony path should grow so smooth, she forgave the suppliant freely, and even gently jested as to the proposed retreat. No, no; he must wear his hair shirt at Gange, she said, and having been granted full absolution, must, together with her, obliterate the past. She explained that it was her intention to have masters from Blois, frankly confessing that the education of the dear ones had soared far beyond her reach. "They shall come twice a week," the marquise explained, "and I will take lessons also. It will be delightful for us all to help each other and prepare our various tasks during the other days. You, Pharamond," she added cheerily, bent on helping him to forget, "may be of the greatest service to us, for you are clever and learned in books. You shall hold the post of assistant usher and explain what we cannot understand. Leave us? Never! What would Clovis do without you? I am afraid that you will have to study Mesmer's doctrines, so that he may not miss that woman. I am resolved that if it is essential to provide for him an affinity, that mysterious object, in the future, shall be of the other sex."
The new foundations were progressing prosperously. Pharamond had never contemplated abandoning the flesh-pots. Since the plan of an elopement with the heiress was doomed to failure through the interference of the dictatorial old maréchal, they must all be content to stop where they were, and, for the time being, dwell together. There was a lull in the political situation, so emigration might not prove necessary. Within the boundaries of France there was no safer refuge than Touraine. Rustic effervescence was subsiding. News arrived from time to time of massacres and burnings, but these were chiefly in the south, in districts surrounding cities.
With grateful reverence and many eloquent protestations, the abbé received the olive branch and set himself with alacrity to show how exceedingly clean he was washed. He impressed on Victor and Camille the angelic attributes of their mamma, strained every nerve to tighten the bonds that had grown slack, laid stress on the fact that though the beloved governess was, of course, one of the best of women, it was necessary for their sakes to provide teachers more advanced than she. The best side of the mercurial gentleman quite glittered with snowy rectitude, and mother and children were agreed that no one could do without the abbé.
A thorn in the flesh was the chevalier. A man who, too thirsty, babbles in his cups, is provoking; but when he becomes maudlin and is scarcely ever sober, he is a grievous trial to his comrades. Having turned over the new leaf it was exasperating to Pharamond to be constantly reminded of the old one at inconvenient seasons by a hiccuping sot; to be implored between vinous sobs "to make her happy." It was urgently necessary to take poor shaky Phebus in tow and treat him with strict severity. Once or twice, in disgust, he thought of getting rid of the sodden creature, and even mentioned the subject to Clovis. But the latter would not hear of his banishment.
"Where should we send him to alone?" he asked. "He would get into trouble and disgrace us. It was you who saddled us with him, so you must help us to bear the burthen."
The abbé gave up the point without further discussion, for in dealing with the weak it is wise to let them have their way in small matters in order to get your own in large ones. Moreover, if kept under surveillance, Phebus might be improved, and it is not well to throw wilfully aside a man, however helpless, over whom we have obtained complete ascendency.
Matters being arranged to his satisfaction so far, the astute and busy one bestirred himself about the marquis. Now that she was gone, Clovis had cause every hour, as she had foreseen, to regret Aglaé. Who so ingenious as she in disentangling knotty problems; who so clear of head in deciphering a theorem? Without her help, what was the use of the tub, or its precious contents? The evenings were interminable to him without his favourite music. The blessed violoncello reposed now in its box, for grunting on it all alone brought melancholy instead of solace to the musician. Before the cannon ball fell, neophyte and affinity had been concerting plans for removing the tub from a benighted neighbourhood to some more congenial sphere. Its blessings were wasted on rustic swine. Clovis longed to escape from the scene of his humiliation; burned to turn his back on Lorge; but there was a new and galling dread within, which kept him tongue-tied: a fear, that if he took too much upon himself the douche of an evil precedent would be turned on again; that the odious old rascal in Paris would warn him to obey his wife.
If you are ill-advised enough to espouse an heiress, you are pretty sure, sooner or later, to have her money flung in your face. Gabrielle had been so full of delicate tact with regard to the dangerous point, that Clovis had never been troubled about it until urgency had impelled de Brèze to twist the screw, and under the wrench he continued to wince and writhe. Calm and dreamy as he was, he had never overtly done anything to vex his wife-had drifted, and then been towed into troubled waters, whose turbidness, now that attention was called to them, was a matter for surprise. He had struggled in his feeble way with conscience, and, the governess assisting, had succeeded in lulling it to rest; and it was very distressing to his vanity that the sleeper should be so roughly wakened. Is it not always humiliating to be treated like a peccant school-boy?
I regret to state that the abbé, when in conference with the marquis, adroitly added to the chafing, by covert scratches and the insertion of little pins. "To a man of spirit," he would remark, deprecatingly, "it is painful to be led by the nose; none the less so, when the holder of the tongs happens to be the one whose duty is obedience." On such occasions, Clovis would turn to his brother with puzzled wrinklings of the brow that were piteous and yet ludicrous. "What am I to do?" he would groan. "The situation, as you say, is horrible; but I don't see a way out of the difficulty." Then the abbé would tap his shoulder and murmur, sighing, "Poor fellow. I pity you with all my being, but for all our sakes must exhort you to be civil to madame. Her wish is law to her papa. If she chose to ask the old scamp to eject us into the road, what else could we do but go?"
Thus it will be seen that Gabrielle's sanguine expressions of gratitude were somewhat premature. The disease of an importunate love for her spouse had submitted to surgical treatment, which was an advantageous change for both; but she guessed nothing of the Nessus shirt, that under the fine linen excoriated the tender skin of the lymphatic sensualist, or dreamed of the effect on his tissues of the abbé's little pins.
Affairs stood thus, when the marquis's bête noire appeared again to stir the wound in his vanity which never ceased to fester. Actually, under the spring sunshine, the dusty berline was again visible, crawling down the road with its load of dust, and M. Galland peering from the window. Clovis shot at his wife a look of angry suspicion, but did not fail to mark by her face, that this time the apparition was unexpected. He could see plainly that if there was to be another screw turn, it was not at her instance or suggestion. So much was evident, and the hot and hasty words which rose died upon his lips. The old rascal had determined to do something disagreeable on his own account. What?
M. Galland, sphynx-like as usual, bowed to the assembled company with respectful deference; but the marquise turned faint, foreboding some fresh sorrow. The calm eyes of the solicitor rested on her with deep compassion; for she was looking so much better, that it was a grievous thing to be bearer of evil tidings. For fear of distressing his idolized child, the maréchal had strictly forbidden her mother to alarm her in the weekly bulletins. She was not informed that the old gentleman's malady had grown on him, that he grew worse instead of better, and it came now upon her like an avalanche, that she would never see him more.
The Maréchal de Brèze was dead; had died blessing his daughter. It was necessary for his heiress to proceed instantly to Paris, to comfort her distracted mother and attend to business of import.
The irruption of the new cannon ball affected the party of listeners differently. Gabrielle, overwhelmed with grief, retired to pray in her chamber. Oh! Why had she not been more patient-more brave-less selfish! She had inflicted her own troubles on the good father when he was sick, perchance had been the innocent cause of precipitating his demise. Why not have continued the loving deceit, whereby she had veiled her wounds so long from him?
That wicked woman had only played upon her terrors, she was now convinced of it; would never have carried out her threats. Now that it was too late, Gabrielle perceived with abortive beatings of the breast and idle wringings of the hands, that she had acted wrongly. By playing the craven, she had killed her father! Had she been possessed of a grain of independent courage, instead of seeking succour from without, she would have marched like a steadfast heroine straight into her husband's presence-have detailed her grievances and claimed her rights, and with her own bow and spear, have driven the enemy away. Alas! She was made to cling and not to fight. In her desolation she prayed long and earnestly ere tears came to her relief. Vainly Toinon upbraided her, declaring that such thoughts were morbid, whilst hastily packing for the journey.
To Clovis, the unexpected news brought ineffable relief. Just as he had learnt to believe himself saddled with a demon, who would be constantly driving spurs into his flanks. Lo! The incubus vanished into air! The old rascal could no longer threaten. His hand was stilled. His voice was dumb for ever. From that quarter there would be no more humiliation; he would not be bidden to obey his wife.
The abbé was so taken aback, that his nimble mind wandered in a maze of possibilities, ere it settled down seriously to consider the effects of the change. The protector of the marquise was gone-her only protector-for Madame la Maréchale was a colourless, somewhat weak-minded lady, who need not be considered at all. The newly-laid foundations of the house of cards were just what they should be, but as circumstances alter cases, new plans must be drawn for the structure. How true is it that the unexpected is always happening to disarrange the most elaborate schemes. The first thing was to go to Paris, there to learn what dispositions had been made by the deceased as to his property. It was highly improbable that the marshal should have placed confidence in his unpractical consort. Was everything left to Gabrielle? Probably. The abbé was content with his survey. By the death of de Brèze, the situation was totally altered. He, Pharamond, must by skilful management, lead the marquise to lean more and more on him. Influence must be exerted, too, over the marquis, who in sudden freedom from irksome restraint might be impelled to do something imprudent. Yes, the horizon was rosy-clouds of difficulty were rolling away. Holding in his supple fingers both the husband and the wife, and exercising due dominion over the bibulous chevalier, it would be curious if, by and by, the abbé did not attain his ends.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE ABBÉ IS TERRIBLY PERPLEXED
Further surprises of a bewildering kind awaited our abbé in the capital, which blurred the growing clearness of his sky. The temporary tranquillity of Touraine had deceived him, for events had been passing in other parts of France of gravest import, of which hitherto he was unaware. The scum of the earth had in the general upheaval risen, as he feared, to the surface, and emitted nauseous savours.
Names new to him were in every mouth, and, the last doubts swept away, he saw with concern for his own safety that the ship of state, guided by such agitators as he saw around, was predestined to disaster. Urged by curiosity, he attended the meetings of new-fangled clubs, and was amazed at the language used there-words which a couple of years ago would have jeopardized the heads of the speakers. He read the Ami du Peuple, a popular journal edited by one, Marat, which openly advocated regicide; and became acquainted with a forbidding person of greenish complexion and smooth aspect whom men called Robespierre. Were these ever to obtain mastery in the confusion, there were dark days in store for France, much tribulation for scions of nobility. Their majesties were still residing at the Tuileries, but how draggled was the royal ermine! The queen dared not to look out of a window for fear of insult. Stepping, on one occasion, into an inner court to breathe some air, the soldier on guard shook his fist at her and courteously declared how pleased he would be to have her head upon his bayonet. Anarchy and crime marched hand in hand, no longer keeping in the shadow; and the worst of all was that the movement Pharamond had been watching showed signs-as by this time the blindest of moles might perceive-of being no transient one, which interference from without might quell. A mighty nation had risen in its strength to protest against intolerable abuses, and so many villains and madmen had risen in wild crusade against things established, that no wonder it lost its senses. True, a good proportion of villains and madmen had already gone under in the conflict, having devoured each other piecemeal; but as these disappeared others, every bit as vile, arose to fill their places.
The long threatened collision with other nations was by this time a fact. The country was formally declared to be in danger. All the remaining property of those who had fled was seized in obedience to an edict promulgated some time since, to defray the expenses of the conflict.
The first act, and one of marked significance, dictated to the abbé by caution, was a change of garb, for in April, when religious communities were suppressed, the wearing of ecclesiastical costumes was prohibited. When religion topples, chaos shows its face.
Seeing what he saw on all sides, Pharamond might well be anxious, and look forward with interest to the reading of de Brèze's will. Within its parchment folds lay the key of the future, for upon the conditions expressed in the document hung the fortune of the party, and he could not but feel serious misgivings with regard to inconvenient stipulations. He had been wrong in supposing that the storm could be weathered at Lorge; of that all he beheld in Paris spoke with eloquence. Sooner or later, every noble in the land would be compelled to emigrate, or gravely risk his life. It was merely a question of how much the sooner or the later their party must join the exodus.
It was a fortunate thing that de Brèze long ago should have deposited the bulk of the money bags in Necker's bank at Geneva. The Chateau of Lorge must be left to its fate. It really mattered little, since when provided with means, palaces will spring up at our bidding on eligible spots. It was essential to learn without delay whether he had left his fortune to the marquise absolutely, or vested it, under care of trustees, for her benefit. In the latter case she was safe, for it would be necessary to be civil to her always, which would be fatiguing; in the former, she must be cajoled to leave the country with the brothers, for some quiet place, where she could be skilfully moulded to their wishes. But what if, for some whimsy, she refused, or if there were special stipulations which would interfere with a flitting? After that artful trick of the clandestine letter there was no trusting her apparent openness. Well, well, there was no use in idle speculation. It was a most lucky circumstance, in any case, that her only protector should be dead.
M. Galland read the will to the brothers in the absence of the heiress, for she was too much overcome by her loss to care about the provisions of the testament; and Clovis raged inwardly the while, for the solicitor had a dubious way of glancing from one to the other of the three, which could hardly be called respectful. The effect of the reading on the auditors was curiously different. The chevalier blinked and smiled, as if he scarcely understood; the abbé, not displeased, nodded politely from time to time, and purred out his satisfaction; Clovis had much ado to conceal his disappointment.
The property was left to the marquise absolutely, the will being a new one, signed a few hours before death. It was worded with extreme care, so that the entire inheritance should be at her own disposal, out of reach of Clovis as of others. This to clever Pharamond seemed a small matter, for had not the lady shown in the past that she was indifferent to dross, and would it not be an amusing bit of diplomacy to direct her as to its disposal? There were no vexatious stipulations: so far, well; and the nimble mind of the abbé began straightway to erect new card-castles for the housing of the coveted money bags. Clovis was exasperated, which was a good point that might be played on with advantage later. It was evident that his vanity was touched on the raw, for, filled as he was with deep resentment, it smouldered all the more fiercely in that he was ashamed to show it.
Was his spouse to nip his nose with the tongs for the rest of his natural life? Was he to be an obedient serf who could not touch a stiver without her express consent? At the time of his marriage he was not troubled on the subject, because the money being the maréchal's it was necessary, for the time being, to submit to his crotchety but not illiberal ways. But now that he was dead? The husband was to bend beneath the yoke, to be under the thumb of this wife of his, who had shown recently that she could assert herself, and who would, of course, now that she knew her power and disliked her spouse, use it to oppress and injure him.
As the trio walked home from M. Galland's office, the usually dreamy marquis was roused to a pitch of ire which Pharamond fanned into a flame.
"My poor fellow," he said, "I bleed for you, but we must make the best of a bad job. Be civil to her, always civil, and she will let you dip into her purse."
"Let me, indeed!" growled Clovis, in dudgeon.
This was just where the tongs pinched most painfully. His olfactory organ still tingled with the tweaking which it received in the matter of the affinity's expulsion, and now he was exhorted to sit down meekly and extend his nose to the torturer.
"I suppose," he cried, in his vexation, "that each time I require a new pair of breeches I must beg her, on my bare knees, to sign the order."
Splendid! The abbé was delighted, for this was quite the mental condition in which he wished to see his brother. If the fortune had been left in the hands of the husband, as would have been proper, the tactics of the astute one would have been mapped out with simple clearness. He would have exerted his power over the marquis to obtain his share of the spoil. But with one to whom intrigue was as the breath of life, so humdrum a way of settling business could not find favour. If we would break up a bundle of sticks, we untie the string that binds them and operate separately upon each. Was it not possible finally to stop personal communication between the husband and the wife, and establish himself as go-between, availing himself of opportunities? The further he kept them apart the greater his own influence would be, and, as things were, it might soon be of the greatest importance to establish a firm authority. To this end, therefore, he patted his fuming brother on the shoulder with affectionate familiarity.
"Come, come!" he laughed. "It is only silly children who quarrel with their bread and butter. The proceedings of the maréchal were malignant and preposterous. Curb your feelings, and bury your chagrin deep down, and never let her guess your most righteous indignation. You shall not be so far degraded if I can help it, as to have to sue in person for money. She likes and trusts me. Let me be your homme d'affaires, and act as mediator between you."
Clovis was grateful for being thus saved from a humiliating position, and Gabrielle tacitly agreed to the arrangement without reflecting much upon the subject. She naturally shrank from too frequent converse with the man whom she had ceased to love.
"What he wants for his pleasures, he can have, and welcome," she said, with a sad smile; "but he must not be unduly extravagant. I am going to blossom out into a terrible woman of business for the sake of Victor and Camille. When they come of age they shall have cause to bless me for my thrift."
A woman of business? That would never do. But there was no danger of it. The charming lady was not endowed with business capacities. This infant-worship of hers was rather tiresome. Would it lead to mortifying complications? Not if the sensitive instrument of her character was played upon with caution. To think that that never-sufficiently-to-be-execrated Aglaé should have been such a fool as to try and strike at her through the adored cherubs-apples of the maternal eyes!
Well, that Marplot was well out of the road, and the abbé was pleased to be quit of so deceitful a coadjutor. He took the earliest opportunity to sound the marquise as to future plans. To his way of thinking it behoved the family to make quietly for Geneva, there to rejoin the money bags, and it would be well to find out, if, in her new capacity, she proposed to put down her foot. He accordingly remarked one day that Paris was a seething caldron, out of which it would be prudent to escape.
"No," replied Gabrielle, quietly, "I have no intention of leaving at present; my place is here, and I am no poltroon. My mother wants me, and so does the queen; and there is much business to arrange with M. Galland. The little ones are happy at Lorge with Toinon, where we will go and see them later."
"But Lorge may be burnt over our heads," objected Pharamond. "Excuse me; but you fail to grasp the situation, which is much more serious than you suppose."
"I shall certainly not leave France," returned Gabrielle, with decision. "No one will hurt us in Touraine, for we are beloved and respected, and the hearts of the people shall be our bulwarks."
This was rather a bad beginning to the newly-inaugurated régime. It was unwelcomely manifest that the foot was down. She had never mentioned her husband or referred to his possible desires. That was significant. Pshaw! she was a woman who was made to lean on others, and just now she was supported by the queen, the family solicitor, and other meddlesome advisers, and was thereby induced to assume an independence which was foreign to her nature. So she was bent on returning to Lorge? Well and good, the sojourn must be brief. The temporary props being left behind, others would have to be supplied-by him. Pressure could be brought to bear within the walls of the grim chateau, and so soon as it should be urgent to flit, why, then there should be a flitting. For the present she was mistress of the situation, and till a change could be brought about, must have her way unchallenged.
