Part 9 (1/2)
”He is not to return till to-morrow; who knows what may happen in the course of the night?” said Gatien.
”We will know!” cried Monsieur Gravier.
In the life of a country house a number of practical jokes are considered admissible, some of them odiously treacherous. Monsieur Gravier, who had seen so much of the world, proposed setting seals on the door of Madame de la Baudraye and of the Public Prosecutor. The ducks that denounced the poet Ibycus are as nothing in comparison with the single hair that these country spies fasten across the opening of a door by means of two little flattened pills of wax, fixed so high up, or so low down, that the trick is never suspected. If the gallant comes out of his own door and opens the other, the broken hair tells the tale.
When everybody was supposed to be asleep, the doctor, the journalist, the receiver of taxes, and Gatien came barefoot, like robbers, and silently fastened up the two doors, agreeing to come again at five in the morning to examine the state of the fastenings. Imagine their astonishment and Gatien's delight when all four, candle in hand, and with hardly any clothes on, came to look at the hairs, and found them in perfect preservation on both doors.
”Is it the same wax?” asked Monsieur Gravier.
”Are they the same hairs?” asked Lousteau.
”Yes,” replied Gatien.
”This quite alters the matter!” cried Lousteau. ”You have been beating the bush for a will-o'-the-wisp.”
Monsieur Gravier and Gatien exchanged questioning glances which were meant to convey, ”Is there not something offensive to us in that speech?
Ought we to laugh or to be angry?”
”If Dinah is virtuous,” said the journalist in a whisper to Bianchon, ”she is worth an effort on my part to pluck the fruit of her first love.”
The idea of carrying by storm a fortress that had for nine years stood out against the besiegers of Sancerre smiled on Lousteau.
With this notion in his head, he was the first to go down and into the garden, hoping to meet his hostess. And this chance fell out all the more easily because Madame de la Baudraye on her part wished to converse with her critic. Half such chances are planned.
”You were out shooting yesterday, monsieur,” said Madame de la Baudraye.
”This morning I am rather puzzled as to how to find you any new amus.e.m.e.nt; unless you would like to come to La Baudraye, where you may study more of our provincial life than you can see here, for you have made but one mouthful of my absurdities. However, the saying about the handsomest girl in the world is not less true of the poor provincial woman!”
”That little simpleton Gatien has, I suppose, related to you a speech I made simply to make him confess that he adored you,” said Etienne.
”Your silence, during dinner the day before yesterday and throughout the evening, was enough to betray one of those indiscretions which we never commit in Paris.--What can I say? I do not flatter myself that you will understand me. In fact, I laid a plot for the telling of all those stories yesterday solely to see whether I could rouse you and Monsieur de Clagny to a pang of remorse.--Oh! be quite easy; your innocence is fully proved.
”If you had the slightest fancy for that estimable magistrate, you would have lost all your value in my eyes.--I love perfection.
”You do not, you cannot love that cold, dried-up, taciturn little usurer on wine casks and land, who would leave any man in the lurch for twenty-five centimes on a renewal. Oh, I have fully recognized Monsieur de la Baudraye's similarity to a Parisian bill-discounter; their nature is identical.--At eight-and-twenty, handsome, well conducted, and childless--I a.s.sure you, madame, I never saw the problem of virtue more admirably expressed.--The author of _Paquita la Sevillane_ must have dreamed many dreams!
”I can speak of such things without the hypocritical gloss lent them by young men, for I am old before my time. I have no illusions left. Can a man have any illusions in the trade I follow?”
By opening the game in this tone, Lousteau cut out all excursions in the _Pays de Tendre_, where genuine pa.s.sion beats the bush so long; he went straight to the point and placed himself in a position to force the offer of what women often make a man pray for, for years; witness the hapless Public Prosecutor, to whom the greatest favor had consisted in clasping Dinah's hand to his heart more tenderly than usual as they walked, happy man!
And Madame de la Baudraye, to be true to her reputation as a Superior Woman, tried to console the Manfred of the Press by prophesying such a future of love as he had not had in his mind.
”You have sought pleasure,” said she, ”but you have never loved. Believe me, true love often comes late in life. Remember Monsieur de Gentz, who fell in love in his old age with f.a.n.n.y Ellsler, and left the Revolution of July to take its course while he attended the dancer's rehearsals.”
”It seems to me unlikely,” replied Lousteau. ”I can still believe in love, but I have ceased to believe in woman. There are in me, I suppose, certain defects which hinder me from being loved, for I have often been thrown over. Perhaps I have too strong a feeling for the ideal--like all men who have looked too closely into reality----”
Madame de la Baudraye at last heard the mind of a man who, flung into the wittiest Parisian circles, represented to her its most daring axioms, its almost artless depravity, its advanced convictions; who, if he were not really superior, acted superiority extremely well. Etienne, performing before Dinah, had all the success of a first night. _Paquita_ of Sancerre scented the storms, the atmosphere of Paris. She spent one of the most delightful days of her life with Lousteau and Bianchon, who told her strange tales about the great men of the day, the anecdotes which will some day form the _Ana_ of our century; sayings and doings that were the common talk of Paris, but quite new to her.
Of course, Lousteau spoke very ill of the great female celebrity of Le Berry, with the obvious intention of flattering Madame de la Baudraye and leading her into literary confidences, by suggesting that she could rival so great a writer. This praise intoxicated Madame de la Baudraye; and Monsieur de Clagny, Monsieur Gravier, and Gatien, all thought her warmer in her manner to Etienne than she had been on the previous day.
Dinah's three _attaches_ greatly regretted having all gone to Sancerre to blow the trumpet in honor of the evening at Anzy; nothing, to hear them, had ever been so brilliant. The Hours had fled on feet so light that none had marked their pace. The two Parisians they spoke of as perfect prodigies.