The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Ii Part 26

"Tolerably so,--nothing more."

"Clever,--witty, perhaps?"

"She was a clever dissembler,--a skilful manoeuvrer; her talent went no higher. She might be about five and twenty years of age, with extremely light hair and nearly white eyelashes; her eyes were large, round, and a clear blue; the expression of her countenance was humble and gentle; and while her outward manner was attentive, even to servility, her real disposition was as perfidious as it was unfeeling."

"And what were her acquirements?"

"Positively none at all, my lord; and I cannot conceive how my father, who until then had been so completely a slave to the dictates of worldly propriety, did not reflect that the utter incapacity of this woman must shamefully proclaim the real cause of her being in the house. My mother earnestly pointed out to him the extreme ignorance of Madame Roland; he, however, merely replied, in a tone which admitted of no further argument, that, competent or otherwise, the young and interesting widow should retain the situation in his establishment in which he had placed her. This I heard subsequently. From that instant my poor mother comprehended the whole affair, over which she deeply grieved; regretting less, I fancy, her husband's infidelity than the domestic unhappiness which would result from so indecorous a _liaison_, the account of which she feared might reach my ears."

"But, even so far as his foolish pa.s.sion was concerned, it seems to me that your father acted very unwisely in introducing this woman into his house."

"And you would be still more at a loss to understand his conduct if you had but known the extreme formality and circ.u.mspection of his character.

Nothing could ever have induced him thus to trample under foot all the established rules of society but the unbounded influence of Madame Roland,--an influence she exercised with so much the more certainty as she veiled her designs under the mask of the most pa.s.sionate love for him."

"But what was your father's age then?"

"About sixty."

"And he really credited the professions of love made by so much younger a woman?"

"My father had been in his time one of the most fas.h.i.+onable and admired men of the day. And Madame Roland, either following the suggestions of her own artful mind or urged on by the counsels of others, who could countenance much more--"

"Counsel such a person!"

"I will tell you, my lord. Imagining that a man whose reputation for gallantry had always stood high in the world would, as he advanced in years, be more easily delighted than another by being flattered upon his personal advantages, and more credulously receive such compliments as served to recall those days most soothing to his vanity to remember, well, my lord, incredible as it may appear, this woman began to flatter my poor misguided father upon the graceful _tournure_ of his features and the inimitable elegance of his shape. And he in his sixtieth year!

Strange as you may consider it, spite of the excellent sense with which my father was endowed, he fell blindly into the snare, coa.r.s.e and vulgar as it was. Such was--such still is, I doubt not--the secret of the unbounded influence this woman obtained over him. And really, my lord, spite of my present disinclination for mirth, I can scarcely restrain a smile at the recollection of having frequently, before my marriage, heard Madame Roland a.s.sert and maintain that what she styled real maturity was the finest portion of a person's existence, and that this maturity never began until about the fifty-fifth or sixtieth year of one's age."

"I suppose that happened to be your father's age?"

"Precisely so, my lord! Then, and then only, according to Madame Roland, had the understanding, combined with experience, attained their full development; then only could a man, occupying a distinguished position in the world, enjoy the consideration to which he was ent.i.tled; at that period only were the _tout ensemble_ of his countenance, and the exquisite grace of his manners, in their highest perfection; the physiognomy offering at this delightful epoch of a man's life a heavenly mixture of winning serenity and gentle gravity. Then the slight tinge of melancholy, caused by the many recollections of the past deceit experience is fain to look back upon, completes the irresistible charm of real maturity; unappreciable (Madame Roland hastily added) except by women with head and heart sufficiently good to despise the youthful frivolity of a poor, inexperienced forty years, when the character and countenance can scarcely be called formed, and when good taste turns away from the boyish folly of such an immature season of life, and seeks the fine, majestic features impressed with the sublime and poetic expression resulting from a sixty years' study of the vast book of human existence."

Rodolph could not restrain smiling at the powerful irony with which Madame d'Harville sketched the portrait of her mother-in-law.

"There is one thing," said he to the marquise, "for which I cannot forgive ridiculous people."

"What is that, my lord?"

"The being also wicked; which prevents our being able to laugh at them as much as they deserve."

"They probably calculate upon that available advantage," replied Clemence.

"Indeed, it is very probable, though equally lamentable, for, if it were not for the recollection of all the pain Madame Roland has occasioned you, I could be highly diverted with her system of real maturity as opposed to the insipidity of mere boys of only forty years of age, who, according to her a.s.sertion, would be scarcely out of their leading-strings, as our grandfathers and grandmothers would say."

"What princ.i.p.ally excited my aversion for her was the shamefulness of her conduct towards my dear mother, and the unfortunately over-zealous part she took in my marriage," said the marquise, after a moment's pause.

Rodolph looked at her with much surprise.

"Nay, my lord," said Clemence, in a firm, though gentle tone, "I well remember that M. d'Harville is your friend and my husband. I know perfectly the grave importance of the words I have just uttered: hereafter you yourself shall admit the justice of them. But to return to Madame Roland, who was now, spite of her acknowledged incapacity, established as my instructress: my mother had a long and most painful altercation with my father on the subject, which drew down on us his extreme displeasure, and from that period my mother and myself remained secluded in our apartments, while Madame Roland, in quality of my governess, directed the whole household, and almost publicly did the honours of the mansion."

"What must your mother have suffered!"

"She did, indeed, my lord; but her sorrow was less for herself than me, whose future destiny might be so deeply affected by the introduction of this woman. Her health, always delicate, became daily weaker, and she fell seriously ill. It chanced, most unfortunately, that our family doctor, M. Sorbier, in whom she had the highest confidence, died about this period, to my mother's extreme regret. Madame Roland immediately urged my father to place my mother's case in the hands of an Italian doctor, a particular friend of her own, and whom she described as possessing a more than ordinary skill in the treatment of diseases.

Thanks to her importunities, my father, who had himself consulted him in trifling maladies, and found no cause to be dissatisfied, proposed him to my mother, who, alas, raised no objection. And this man it was who attended upon her during her last illness."

Tears filled the eyes of Madame d'Harville as she uttered these words.

"I am ashamed to confess my weakness, my lord," added she; "but, for the simple reason of this doctor having been appointed at the suggestion of Madame Roland, he inspired me (and at that time without any cause) with the most involuntary repugnance, and it was with the most painful misgivings I saw him established in my mother's confidence. Still, as regarded his knowledge of his profession, Doctor Polidori--"

"What do I hear?" exclaimed Rodolph.

"Are you indisposed, my lord?" inquired Clemence, struck with the sudden expression the prince's countenance had a.s.sumed.

"No, no!" said Rodolph, as though unconscious of the presence of Madame d'Harville, "no, I must be mistaken. Five or six years must have elapsed since all this occurred, while I am informed that it is not more than two years since Polidori came to Paris, and then under a feigned name.

He it was I saw yesterday,--I am sure of it,--the quack dentist Bradamanti and Polidori are one and the same. Still, 'tis singular; two doctors of the same name,[3]--what a strange rencontre!"

[3] We must remind the reader that Polidori was a doctor of some eminence when he undertook the education of Rodolph.

"Madame," said Rodolph, turning to Madame d'Harville, whose astonishment at his preoccupation still increased, "we will, if you please, compare notes as to this Italian. What age was he?"

"About fifty."

"And his appearance,--his countenance?"

"Most sinister. Never shall I forget his clear, piercing, green eye, and his nose curved like the bill of an eagle."

"'Tis he,--'tis he himself!" exclaimed Rodolph. "And do you think, madame, that the Doctor Polidori you were describing is still in Paris?"

"That I cannot tell you, my lord. He quitted Paris about a year after my father's marriage. A lady of my acquaintance, who at this period also employed the Italian as her medical adviser--this lady, Madame de Lucenay--"

"The d.u.c.h.ess de Lucenay?" interrupted Rodolph.

"Yes, my lord. But why this surprise?"

"Permit me to be silent on that subject. But, at the time of which you speak, what did Madame de Lucenay tell you of this man?"

"She said that he travelled much after quitting Paris, and that she often received from him very clever and amusing letters, descriptive of the various places he visited. Now I recollect that, about a month ago, happening to ask Madame de Lucenay whether she had heard lately from M.

Polidori, she replied, with an embarra.s.sed manner, 'that nothing had been heard of or concerning him for some time; that no one knew what had become of him; and that by many he was supposed to be dead.'"

"Strange, indeed," said Rodolph, recalling the recent visit of Madame de Lucenay to the charlatan Bradamanti.

"You know this man, then, my lord?"

"Unfortunately for myself, I do; but let me beseech you to continue your recital; hereafter I will give you an insight into the history of this Polidori."

"Do you mean the doctor?"

"Say, rather, the wretch stained with the most atrocious crimes."