The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Iv Part 29

"My dear Edwards," interrupted M. Boyer, "you should learn the alliances of our great families before you speak, or you will sadly blunder."

"How?"

"Madame la Marquise de Senneval is sister of M. le Duc de Montbrison, into whose establishment you wish to enter."

"Ah, the devil!"

"Judge of the effect if you had spoken thus of her before tattling people! You would not have remained in the house twenty-four hours."

"True, Boyer; I must endeavour to 'get up' my peerage."

"I resume. The father of M. le Vicomte discovered, after twelve or fifteen years of a marriage very happy until then, that he had this Polish count to complain of. Fortunately, or unfortunately, M. le Vicomte was born nine months after his father, or rather M. le Comte de Saint-Remy, had returned from this unpropitious journey, so that he could not be certain, in spite of the greatest probabilities, whether or not M. le Vicomte could fairly charge him with paternity. However, the comte separated instantly from his wife, would not touch a stiver of the fortune she had brought him, and returned into the country with about eighty thousand francs which he possessed of his own. But you have yet to learn the rancour of this diabolical character. Although the outrage had been perpetrated fifteen years when he detected it, the father of M.

le Vicomte, accompanied by M. de Fermont, one of his relatives, sought out this Polonese seducer, and found him at Venice, after having sought for him during eighteen months in every city in Europe."

"What determination!"

"A demon's rancour, I say, my dear Edwards! At Venice there was a ferocious duel, in which the Pole was killed. All pa.s.sed off honourably; but they tell me that, when the father of M. le Vicomte saw the Pole fall at his feet mortally wounded, he exhibited such ferocious joy that his relative, M. de Fermont, was obliged to take him away from the place of combat; the comte wis.h.i.+ng, as he declared, to see his enemy die before his eyes."

"What a man! What a man!"

"The comte returned to Paris, saw his wife, told her he had killed the Pole, and went back into the country. Since that time he never saw her or her son, and resided at Angers, where he lived, as they say, like a regular old wolf, with what was left of his eighty thousand francs, which had been sweated down not a little, as you may suppose, by his chase after the Pole. At Angers he saw no one, unless it were the wife and daughter of his relative, M. de Fermont, who has been dead some years now. Besides, it was an unfortunate family, for the brother of Madame de Fermont blew his brains out some months ago."

"And the mother of M. le Vicomte?"

"He lost her a long time ago; that's the reason that, when he attained his majority, M. le Vicomte came into his mother's fortune. So, you see, my dear Edwards, that, as to inheritance, the vicomte has nothing, or almost less than nothing, to expect from his father."

"Who, moreover, detests him."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _He exhibited such ferocious joy._ Original Etching by Mercier.]

"He never would see him after the discovery in question, being fully persuaded, no doubt, that he is the son of the Pole."

The conversation of these two personages was interrupted by a gigantic footman, elaborately powdered, although it was scarcely eleven o'clock.

"M. Boyer, M. le Vicomte has rung his bell twice," said the giant.

Boyer appeared immensely distressed at having apparently been inattentive to his duty, rose hastily, and followed the footman with as much haste and respect as if he had not been himself, in his proper person, the proprietor of his master's house.

CHAPTER X.

THE COMTE DE SAINT-REMY.

It was about two hours after Boyer had left Edwards to go to M. de Saint-Remy, when the father of the latter knocked at the door of the house in the Rue de Chaillot.

M. de Saint-Remy, senior, was a tall man, still active and vigorous in spite of his age. The extreme darkness of his complexion contrasted singularly with the peculiar whiteness of his beard and hair; his thick eyebrows still remained black, and half covered his piercing eyes deeply sunk in his head. Although from a kind of misanthropic feeling he wore clothes which were extremely shabby, yet there was in his entire appearance something so calm and dignified as to inspire general respect.

The door of his son's house opened, and he went in.

A porter in dress livery of brown and silver, with his hair carefully powdered, and dressed in silk stockings, appeared on the threshold of an elegant lodge, which resembled the smoky cave of the Pipelets as much as does the tub of a stocking-darner the splendid shop of a fas.h.i.+onable dressmaker.

"M. de Saint-Remy?" said the comte, in an abrupt tone.

The porter, instead of replying, scrutinised with impertinent curiosity the white beard, the threadbare frock coat, and the napless hat of the unknown, who held a stout cane in his hand.

"M. de Saint-Remy?" again said the comte, impatiently, and much irritated at the insolent demeanour of the porter.

"M. le Vicomte is not at home."

So saying, the co-mate of M. Pipelet opened the door, and, with a significant gesture, invited the unknown to retire.

"I will wait for him," said the comte, and he moved forward.

"Holloa! Come, I say, my friend, that's not the way people enter other people's houses!" exclaimed the porter, running after the comte, and taking him by the arm.

"What, fellow!" replied the old man, with a threatening air, and lifting his cane, "dare you to lay your hands on me?"

"I dare do more than that if you do not be off quickly. I tell you the vicomte is not within; so now go away, will you?"

At this moment Boyer, attracted by the sound of contending voices, appeared on the steps which led to the house.

"What is the meaning of this noise?" he inquired.

"M. Boyer, it is this man, who will go into the house, although I have told him that M. le Vicomte is not within."

"Hold your tongue!" said the comte. And then addressing Boyer, who had come towards them, "I wish to see my son. He is out, and therefore I will wait for him."

We have already said that Boyer was neither ignorant of the existence nor the misanthropy of his master's father; and being, moreover, a physiognomist, he did not for a moment doubt the comte's ident.i.ty, but, bowing respectfully, replied:

"If M. le Comte will follow me, I will conduct him--"

"Very well!" said M. de Saint-Remy, who followed Boyer, to the extreme amazement of the porter.

Preceded by the _valet de chambre_, the comte reached the first story, and followed his guide across the small sitting-room of Florestan de Saint-Remy (we shall in future call the viscount by his baptismal name to distinguish him more easily from his father) until they reached a small antechamber communicating with the sitting-room, and sitting immediately over the boudoir on the ground floor.

"M. le Vicomte was obliged to go out this morning," said Boyer. "If M.

le Comte will be so kind as to wait a little for him, he will not be long before he comes in." And the _valet de chambre_ quitted the apartment.

Left alone, the count looked about him with entire indifference; but suddenly he started, his face became animated, his cheeks grew purple, and anger agitated his features. His eyes had lighted on the portrait of his wife, the mother of Florestan de Saint-Remy! He folded his arms across his breast, bowed his head, as if to escape this sight, and strode rapidly up and down the room.

"This is strange!" he said. "That woman is dead--I killed her lover--and yet my wound is as deep, as sensitive, as the first day I received it; my thirst of vengeance is not yet quenched; my savage misanthropy, which has all but entirely isolated me from the world, has left me alone, and in constant contemplation of the thought of my injury. Yes; for the death of the accomplice of this infamy has avenged the outrage, but not effaced its memory from my remembrance. Oh, yes! I feel that what renders my hatred inextinguishable is the thought that, for fifteen years, I was a dupe; that for fifteen years I treated with respect and esteem a wretched woman who had infamously betrayed me; that I have loved her son--the son of crime--as if he had indeed been my own child; for the aversion with which Florestan now inspires me proves but too clearly that he is the offspring of adultery! And yet I have not the absolute conviction of his illegitimacy: it is just possible that he is still my child! And sometimes that thought is agony to me! If he were indeed my son! Then my abandonment of him, the coldness I have always testified towards him, my constant refusals to see him, are unpardonable. But, after all, he is rich, young, happy; and of what use should I be to him? Yes; but then, perchance, his tenderness might have soothed the bitter anguish which his mother has caused me!"

After a moment of deep reflection the comte shrugged his shoulders and continued:

"Still these foolish suppositions, weak as useless, which revive all my suffering! Let me be a man, and overcome the absurd and painful emotion which I experience when I think that I am again about to see him whom, for ten years, I have loved with the most mad idolatry,--whom I have loved as my son; he--he--the son of the man whose blood I saw flow with such intense joy! And they would not let me be present at his last agony,--at his death! Ah, they know not what it was to have been stricken as deeply as I was! Then, too, to think that my name--always honoured and respected--should have been so often mentioned with scoff and derision, as is always mentioned that of a wronged husband! To think that my name--a name of which I had always been so proud--should now belong to a man whose father's heart I could have plucked out! Ah, I only wonder I do not go mad when I think of it!"