The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Ii Part 19

"Oh, no, madame!" replied the poor girl, casting down her eyes, while a bright flush rose even to her temples; "but there is so great a difference between us that--"

"Dear Marie! you are cruel and unkind thus needlessly to torment yourself. Have you so soon forgotten how I chided you but just now for the very same fault? There, drive away all such foolish thoughts! dress yourself as quickly as you can, and pray wrap up very carefully. If we are quick, we may reach Arnouville before eleven o'clock."

Then, leaving Fleur-de-Marie to perform the duties of her simple toilet, Madame Georges retired to her own chamber, first dismissing Claudine with an intimation to Pierre that herself and niece would be ready to start almost immediately.

Half an hour afterwards, Madame Georges and Marie were on their way to Arnouville, in one of those large, roomy cabriolets, in use among the rich farmers in the environs of Paris; and briskly did their comfortable vehicle, drawn by a stout Norman horse, roll over the gra.s.sy road which led from Bouqueval to Arnouville. The extensive buildings and numerous appendages to the farm, tenanted by M. Dubreuil in the latter village, bore testimony to the wealth and importance of the property bestowed as a marriage-portion on Mlle. Cesarine de Noirmont upon her union with the Duke de Lucenay.

The loud crack of Pierre's whip apprised Madame Dubreuil of the arrival of her friend, Madame Georges, with Fleur-de-Marie, who were most affectionately greeted by Clara and her mother. Madame Dubreuil was a good-looking woman of middle age, with a countenance expressive of extreme gentleness and kindness; while her daughter Clara was a handsome brunette, with rich hazel eyes, and a happy, innocent expression for ever resting on her full, rosy lips, which seemed never to open but to utter words of sweetness and amiability. As Clara eagerly threw her arms around her friend's neck as she descended the vehicle, the Goualeuse saw with extreme surprise that the kind-hearted girl had laid aside her more fas.h.i.+onable attire, and was habited as a simple country maiden.

"Why, Clara!" said Madame Georges, affectionately returning her embrace, "what is the meaning of this strange costume?"

"It is done in imitation and admiration of her sister Marie," answered Madame Dubreuil; "I a.s.sure you she let me have no peace till I had procured her a woollen bodice, and a fustian skirt exactly resembling your Marie's. But, now we are talking of whims and caprices, just come this way with me," added Madame Dubreuil, drawing a deep sigh, "while I explain to you my present difficulty, as well as the cause of my so abruptly summoning you hither; but you are so kind, I feel a.s.sured you will not only forgive it, but also render me all the a.s.sistance I require."

Following Madame Georges and her mother to their sitting-room, Clara lovingly conducted the Goualeuse also thither, placing her in the warmest corner of the fireside, and tenderly chafing her hands to prevent the cold from affecting her; then fondly caressing her, and styling her again and again her very dear sister Marie, she playfully reproached her for allowing so long an interval to pa.s.s away without paying her a visit. After the recent conversation which pa.s.sed between the poor Goualeuse and the cure (no doubt fresh in the reader's memory), it will easily be believed that these tender marks of affection inspired the unfortunate girl with feelings of deep humility, combined with a timid joy.

"Now, then, dear Madame Dubreuil," said Madame Georges, when they were comfortably seated, "do pray tell me what has happened, and in what manner I can be serviceable to you."

"Oh, in several ways! I will tell you exactly how. In the first place, I believe you are not aware that this farm is the private property of the d.u.c.h.esse de Lucenay, and that we are accountable to her alone, having nothing whatever to do with the duke or his steward."

"No, indeed, I never heard that before."

"Neither should I have troubled you with so unimportant a matter now, but that it forms a necessary part of the explanation I am about to give you of my present pressing need of your kind services. You must know, then, that we consider ourselves as the tenants of Madame de Lucenay, and always pay our rent either to herself or to Madame Simon, her head _femme de chambre_; and, really, spite of some little impetuosity of temper, Madame la d.u.c.h.esse is so amiable that it is delightful to have business with her. Dubreuil and I would go through fire and water to serve her: but, la! that is only natural, considering we have known her from her very cradle, and were accustomed to see her playing about as a child during the visits she used annually to pay to the estate during the lifetime of her late father, the Prince de Noirmont. Latterly she has asked for her rent in advance. Forty thousand francs is not 'picked up by the roadside,' as the old proverb says; but happily we had laid that sum by as Clara's dowry, and the very next morning after the request reached us we carried madame her money in bright, s.h.i.+ning, golden louis. These great ladies spend so much, you see, in luxuries such as you and I have no idea of. Yet it is only within the last twelvemonth Madame de Lucenay has wished to be paid beforehand, she used always to seem as though she had plenty of money; but things are very different now."

"Still, my dear Madame Dubreuil, I do not yet perceive in what way I can possibly a.s.sist you."

"Don't be in a hurry! I am just coming to that part of my story; but I was obliged to tell you all this that you might be able to understand the entire confidence Madame la d.u.c.h.esse places in us. To be sure, she showed her great regard for us by becoming, when only thirteen years of age, Clara's G.o.dmother, her n.o.ble father standing as the other sponsor; and, ever since, Madame de Lucenay has loaded her G.o.dchild with presents and kind attentions. But I must not keep you--I see you are impatient; so I will at once proceed with the business part of my tale. You must know, then, that last night I received by express the following letter from Madame de Lucenay:

"MY DEAR MADAME DUBREUIL:

"'You must prepare the small pavilion in the orchard for occupation by to-morrow evening. Send there all the requisite furniture, such as carpets, curtains, etc., etc. Let nothing be wanted to render it, in every respect, as _comfortable_ as possible.'

"Do you mark the word 'comfortable,' Madame Georges?" inquired Madame Dubreuil, pausing in the midst of her reading; "it is even underlined."

Then looking up at her friend with a thoughtful, puzzled expression of countenance, and receiving no answer, she continued the perusal of her letter:

"'It is so long since the pavilion has been used that it will require large and constant fires both night and day to remove the dampness from the walls. I wish you to behave in every respect to the person who will occupy the apartments as you would do to myself. And you will receive by the hands of the new visitant a letter from me explanatory of all I expect from your well-known zeal and attachment. I depend entirely on you and feel every a.s.surance that I may safely reckon on your fidelity and desire to serve me. Adieu, my dear Madame Dubreuil; remember me most kindly to my pretty G.o.ddaughter; and believe me ever,

"'Yours, sincerely and truly, "'NOIRMONT DE LUCENAY.

"'P.S. The person whom I so strongly recommend to your best care and attention will arrive the day after to-morrow, about dusk.

Pray do your very utmost to render the pavilion as _comfortable_ as you possibly can.'

"Comfortable again, you see, and underlined as before," said Madame Dubreuil, returning the letter of Madame de Lucenay to her pocket.

"Well," replied Madame Georges, "all this is simple enough!"

"How do you mean, simple enough? you cannot have heard me read the letter. Madame la d.u.c.h.esse wishes particularly 'that the pavilion should be rendered as comfortable as possible.' Now that is the very reason of my asking you to come to me to-day; Clara and I have been knocking our heads together in vain to discover what 'comfortable' can possibly mean, but without being able to find it out. Yet it seems odd, too, that Clara should not know its meaning, for she was several years at school at Villiers le Bel, and gained a quant.i.ty of prizes for history and geography; however, she knows as little as I do about that outlandish word. I dare say it is only known at court, or in the fas.h.i.+onable world.

However, be that as it may, Madame la d.u.c.h.esse has thrown me into a pretty fuss by making use of it; she says, and you see twice repeats the words, and even underlines it, 'that she requests I will furnish the pavilion as comfortably as possible.' Now what are we to do when we have not the slightest notion of the meaning of that word?"

"Well, heaven be praised, then, that I can relieve your perplexity by solving this grand mystery!" said Madame Georges, smiling. "Upon the present occasion the word comfortable merely means an a.s.semblage of neat, well-chosen, well-arranged, and convenient furniture, so placed, in apartments well warmed and protected from cold or damp, that the occupant shall find every thing that is necessary combined with articles that to some might seem superfluities."

"Thank you. I perfectly understand what comfortable means as regards furnis.h.i.+ng apartments; but your explanation only increases my difficulties."

"How so?"

"Madame la d.u.c.h.esse speaks of carpets, furniture, and many _et coeteras_; now we have no carpets here, and our furniture is of the most homely description. Neither can I make out by the letter whether the person I am to expect is a male or female; and yet every thing must be prepared by to-morrow evening. What shall I do? What can I do? I can get nothing here. Really, Madame Georges, it is enough to drive one wild to be placed in such an awkward situation."

"But, mother," said Clara, "suppose you take the furniture out of my room, and whilst you are refurnis.h.i.+ng it I will go and pa.s.s a few days with dear Marie at Bouqueval."

"My dear child, what nonsense you talk! as if the humble fittings-up of your chamber could equal what Madame la d.u.c.h.esse means by the word 'comfortable,'" returned Madame Dubreuil, with a disconsolate shrug of the shoulders. "Lord! Lord! why will fine ladies puzzle poor folks like me by going out of their way to find such expressions as comfortable?"

"Then I presume the pavilion in question is ordinarily uninhabited?"

said Madame Georges.

"Oh, yes! There, you see that small white building at the end of the orchard--that is it. The late Prince de Noirmont, father of Madame la d.u.c.h.esse, caused it to be built for his daughter when, in her youthful days, she was accustomed to visit the farm, and she then occupied it.

There are three pretty chambers in it, and a beautiful little Swiss dairy at the end of the garden, where, in her childish days, Madame la d.u.c.h.esse used to divert herself with feigning to manage. Since her marriage, she has only been twice at the farm, but each time she pa.s.sed several hours in the pavilion. The first time was about six years ago, and then she came on horseback with--" Then, as though the presence of Clara and Fleur-de-Marie prevented her from saying more, Madame Dubreuil interrupted herself by saying, "But I am talking instead of doing; and that is not the way to get out of my present difficulty. Come, dear, good Madame Georges, and help a poor bewildered creature like myself!"

"In the first place," answered Madame Georges, "tell me how is this pavilion furnished at the present moment."

"Oh, scarcely at all! In the princ.i.p.al apartment there is a straw matting on the centre of the floor; a sofa, and a few arm-chairs composed of rushes, a table, and some chairs, comprise all the inventory, which, I think you will allow, falls far short of the word comfortable."

"Well, I tell you what I should do in your place. Let me see; it is eleven o'clock. I should send a person on whom you can depend to Paris."

"Our overseer![2] There cannot be a more active, intelligent person."

[2] A species of overseer employed in most of the large farming establishments in the environs of Paris.

"Exactly! just the right sort of messenger. Well, in two hours at the utmost, he may be in Paris. Let him go to some upholsterer in the Chaussee d'Antin--never mind which--and give him the list I will draw out, after I have seen what is wanting for the pavilion; and let him be directed to say that, let the expense be what it may--"

"I don't care about expense, if I can but satisfy the d.u.c.h.ess."

"The upholsterer, then, must be told that, at any cost, he must see that every article named in the list be sent here either this evening or before daybreak to-morrow, with three or four of his most clever and active workmen to arrange them as quickly as possible."

"They might come by the Gonesse diligence, which leaves Paris at eight o'clock every evening."

"And as they would only have to place the furniture, lay down carpets, and put up curtains, all that could easily be done by to-morrow evening."

"Oh, my dear Madame Georges, what a load you have taken off my mind! I should never have thought of this simple yet proper manner of proceeding. You are the saving of me! Now, may I ask you to be so kind as to draw me out the list of articles necessary to render the pavilion--what is that hard word? I never can recollect it."

"Comfortable! Yes, I will at once set about it, and with pleasure."

"Dear me! here is another difficulty. Don't you see we are not told whether to expect a lady or a gentleman? Madame de Lucenay, in her letter, only says 'a person.' It is very perplexing, isn't it?"

"Then make your preparations as if for a lady, my dear Madame Dubreuil; and, should it turn out a gentleman, why he will only have better reason to be pleased with his accommodations."

"Quite right; right again, as you always are."

A servant here announced that breakfast was ready.