Ghosts and Family Legends Part 7

"'You know that in our service, every officer first enters his regiment as a private soldier, and for a certain s.p.a.ce of time does all the duties of that position. The major's son, Fritz, was thus in his noviciate. I concluded he had been killed by a stray shot, and for a minute or two I remained in this persuasion, the major's speech being choked by his sobs. The first words he uttered were-- "'Would to G.o.d I had taken Captain T.'s advice!'

"'About what?' I said. 'What has happened to Fritz?'

"'You know,' said he, 'yesterday I was field officer of the day; and when I was going my rounds last night, I happened to ask my orderly, who was a.s.sisting to put on my sash, what men we had told off for the guard. Amongst others, he named Jokel Falck, and remembering the conversation the other day at the mess table, I took one of my pistols out of the holster, and, after loading, put it in my pocket. I did not expect to see the dog, for I had never seen him; but as I had no doubt that the story of the spectre was some dodge of the men, I determined if ever I did, to have a shot at him. As I was going through the Place de Meyer, I fell in with the general, who joined me, and we rode on together, talking of the siege. I had forgotten all about the dog, but when we came to the rampart, above the Bastion du Matte, I suddenly saw exactly such an animal as the one described, trotting beneath us. I knew there must be a sentry immediately below where we rode, though I could not see him, and I had no doubt that the animal was making towards him; so without saying a word, I drew out my pistol and fired, at the same moment jumping off my horse, in order to look over the bastion, and get a sight of the man. Without comprehending what I was about, the general did the same, and there we saw the sentry lying on his face, fast asleep.'

"'And the body of the dog?' said I.

"'Nowhere to be seen,' he answered, 'and yet I must have hit him--I fired bang into him. The general says it must have been a delusion, for he was looking exactly in the same direction, and saw no dog at all--but I am certain I saw him, so did the orderly.'

"'But Fritz?' I said.

"'It was Fritz--Fritz was the sentry,' said the major, with a fresh burst of grief. The court-martial sits this morning, and my boy will be shot, unless interest can be made with the general to grant him a pardon.'

"I rose and drest myself immediately, but with little hope of success. Poor Fritz being the son of an officer, was against him rather than otherwise--it would have been considered an act of favouritism to spare him. He was shot; his poor mother died of a broken heart, and the major left the service immediately after the surrender of the city."

"And have you ever seen Mungo again?" said I.

"No," he replied; "but I have heard of others seeing him."

"And are you convinced that it was a spectre, and not a dog of flesh and blood?"

"I fancy I was then--but, of course, one can't believe--"

"Oh, no;" I rejoined; "Oh, no; never mind facts, if they don't fit into our theories."

THE OLD FRENCH GENTLEMAN'S STORY.

I spent the summer of fifty-six at Dieppe--a charming watering-place for those who can bear an exciting air, and are not very particular about what they eat. Dieppe, as travellers see it who are hurrying through to Paris, has a most unpromising aspect, with its muddy basins and third and fourth rate inns on the quays, but if you are not hastening from the packet to the train, which the great proportion of people do; you have only to pa.s.s up one of the short streets you will see en face, when you issue from the Custom-house, into which you have been introduced on landing, and you will find yourself on an esplanade of considerable extent, with a wide expanse of clear salt water before you, a fine terrace walk along the sh.o.r.e, and several newly erected hotels opposite the sea. Of course, there is an etabliss.e.m.e.nt where the usual amus.e.m.e.nts are provided; the bathing is excellent, and the company numerous, for Dieppe is the favourite watering place of the fashionable world of Paris. The beauty of the place is greatly increased by a judicious suggestion of the Emperor's. I was told that when he and the Empress were there in '55, they complained of the absence of flowers on the esplanade; it was objected that none would grow there; however, he recommended them to try hollyhocks, china-asters, and poppies, the latter are the finest I ever saw, and the brilliant and varied ma.s.ses of colour produce a very good effect. But they do not feed you well here; 'La Viande est longue a Dieppe' as the Garcon of the Hotel Royal urged when I objected to the meat which, on application of the knife fell into strips of pack-thread; the poultry is lean and bad; fish scarce, because it all goes to London or Paris, by contract, and everything dear. Nevertheless, Dieppe is a very nice place and the surrounding country is exceedingly pretty and picturesque.

Some members of the Jockey Club were in the Hotel Royal, living very fast indeed. They all bore very aristocratic names and t.i.tles, but not the impress of high blood. How should they? Judging from what I saw, such a course of profligate self-indulgence, unredeemed, even by good breeding, must have effaced the stamp, if it ever was there. They inhabited a pavilion in the cour, and the luxurious repasts that we constantly saw served to them gave us an awful idea of the amount of their bill. They played at cards all day--the live long summer day! And only suspended this amus.e.m.e.nt when the garcons appeared with their trays loaded with expensive wines and high-seasoned dishes. One other amus.e.m.e.nt they had, which was no less an amus.e.m.e.nt to us--they had a drag--a regular English four-in-hand. The cour of the hotel was divided from the road by iron rails, with a large gate at each extremity for carriages, so that to an English whip, nothing would have been easier than to drive in at one of these gates, and round the sweep, and out at the other; but this the jockey club could never accomplish; when the gentlemen took the reins from the coachman, if they were in, they could not get out; and if they were out, they could not get in; so after a few ambitious attempts and ignominious failures, they submitted to the inglorious expediency of mounting and dismounting outside the gates. The French have certainly a remarkable incapacity for riding or driving, which is strange, as they are active men and have generally light figures. The Emperor is almost the only Frenchman I ever saw ride well; but he rides like an English gentleman.

There were many elegantly drest women, of all nations, at Dieppe, but there was one who particularly attracted my attention, and for whom, when I afterwards heard her story, I felt an extraordinary interest. This was the Countess Adeline de-Givry-Monjerac, at least so I will call her here. When I first saw her she was going down to bathe, attended by her maid, a grave elderly person, and I was so much struck by her appearance, that I took the first opportunity of enquiring her name. She was tall and very pale, with fine, straight features, and an expression of countenance at once n.o.ble and melancholy. Her figure was so good, and her bearing at once so graceful and dignified, that her unusual height did not strike you till you saw her standing beside other women. She was leaning on her maid's arm, and stooped a little, apparently from feebleness. Her attire was a peignoir of grey taffetas, lined with blue, and on her head she wore a simple capote of the same. Her age, I judged to be about forty.

She lodged in the Hotel Royal, as I did also, but lived entirely in private; and we only saw her there as she went in and out. Later in the season, the d.u.c.h.esse de B., and other persons, arrived from Paris, with whom she was acquainted, and I often observed her in conversation with them on the promenade; but her countenance never lost its expression of melancholy. However, I should have left Dieppe, ignorant of the singular circ.u.mstances I am about to relate, but for an accident.

There was a verandah in the court of the hotel, in which many of us preferred to breakfast, rather than in the salon; and the verandah not being very extensive, and the candidates numerous, there was often a little difficulty in securing a table. One morning, I had just laid my parasol on the only one I saw vacant, when the garcon warned me that it was already engaged by ce monsieur, indicating an old gentleman, who was standing with his back to me, in conversation with one of a sisterhood called Soeurs de la Providence, who was soliciting him to buy some of the lottery tickets she held in her hand; they were for the Loterie de Bienfaisance, the proceeds of which are devoted to charitable purposes. There are innumerable lotteries of this sort in France, authorized by the government; and they seem to me to be the subst.i.tute for our magnificent private charities in England, for very large sums are collected. The tickets only cost a franc. I believe the tirage is conducted with perfect fairness; and people thus subscribe a franc for the poor, with the agreeable, but very remote, chance of being repaid, meme ici bas, a hundred thousand-fold.

The old gentleman turned his head on hearing my conversation with the waiter; and, begging I would not derange myself on his account, desired that I might have the table. Grateful for such an unusual exertion of politeness--for the politeness of the modern French gentleman does not include the smallest modic.u.m of self-sacrifice--I modestly declined, and said, "I would wait." He answered, "by no means." And while we were engaged in this amicable contest, the waiter brought his breakfast, and placed it on the table; seeing which, he proposed, that as he was denied the pleasure of making way for me, I should have my coffee placed on the other side, and we should breakfast together; an offer which I gladly accepted.

He was a pleasant, garrulous, old gentleman. Monsieur de Vennacour was his name, proprietaire a Paris, and he told me how he had lost his fortune by the revolutions, and how he lived now in a pet.i.t apartment in the Rue des Ecuries d'Anjou, and belonged to a coterie of old ladies and gentlemen like himself, who had a pet.i.t whisk every night during the winter. While we were talking, the Countess pa.s.sed us on her way to the bath; and, happening to catch her eye as she crossed the court, he bowed to her; whereupon I asked him if he knew her?

"A little," he said; "but I knew her husband well; and her mother's hotel was next to that my family formerly inhabited. She was a beautiful woman, Madame de Lignerolles."

"Then, she is dead?" said I.

"No," he replied. "She has retired from the world,--she is in a convent. C'est une histoire bien triste celle de Madame de Lignerolles et sa fille, et aussi bien etrange!"

"If it is not a secret, perhaps you will tell it to me?" said I; for I saw that my new acquaintance desired nothing better. He was a famous raconteur; and I wish I could tell the story in English as well, and as dramatically, as he told it to me in French; however, I'll repeat it as faithfully as I can.

"Madame de Lignerolles nee Hermione de Givry, was married early to the Marquis de Lignerolles, without any particular penchant for or against the union. The Marquis was a great deal older than herself, but it was considered a good match, for he was very rich, and his genealogy was unexceptionable. Not more so, however, than the young lady's; for the de Givry's heraldic tree had apparently sprung from an acorn floated to the west by Deucalion himself. At the period of Hermione's marriage her father, mother, and two brothers, older than herself, still lived. Her father, the Comte de Givry had been a younger son, and had inherited the fortune on the death of his elder brother who was killed in a duel the day before he was to have been married to a woman he pa.s.sionately loved. He died by the hand of one of his most intimate friends, with whom he had never had a word of difference before, and the subject of quarrel was a peac.o.c.k! But it was always remarked by the world, that the eldest scions of the house of Givry were singularly unfortunate; they seldom prospered in their loves, and if they did, they were sure to die before their hopes were realised. People in general called it a destiny; others whispered that it was a curse; but the family laughed contemptuously if any one presumed to hint such a thing in their presence, and a.s.serted that it was merely le hazard; and as the world in these days is very much disposed to believe in le hazard, few persons sought to penetrate further into the cause of these misadventures. However, Hermione's elder brother, Etienne, did not escape his mauvais destin; the lady he was engaged to marry was seized with the smallpox, and, from being a pretty person, became a very ugly one. During her illness, he had sworn nothing should break his engagement, and accordingly, disfigured as she was, he married her; but he had better, for both their sakes, have left it alone. He was disgusted and she was jealous; they parted within a month after the wedding, and he was soon after killed by a fall from his horse in the Bois de Boulogne, and died, leaving no issue. Upon his decease, the second son, Armande, now the heir, was recalled from Prussia, whither he had gone with his regiment, but they were on the eve of a battle, and it was not consistent with his honour to leave till it was over. He was the first officer that fell in the fight, and thus the hopes of the ancient family of Givry became centered in the offspring of Hermione. But, Adeline, the fair object of my admiration, was the sole fruit of the marriage, and great were the lamentations of the old Count and Countess that the continuation of this n.o.ble stock rested on so frail a tenure, for the child was exceedingly delicate; she outgrew her strength, and for some years was supposed to be poitrinaire. But, either, thanks to the wonderful care that was bestowed upon her, or to an inherent good const.i.tution, she survived this trying period and grew up to marriageable years, rewarding all the solicitude of her family by her charms and amiability. She was not so beautiful as her mother had been--and even was still--but she was quite sufficiently handsome; and there was so much grace in her movements and her manners, and she had such a n.o.ble and pure expression of countenance--a true indication of her character--that Adeline de Lignerolle's perfections were universally admitted by the men, and scarcely denied by the women, insomuch, that these attractions, added to her lineage and fortune, caused her to be looked upon as one of the most desirable matches in the kingdom.

"Her father, the old Marquis de Lignerolles-Givry--for he was constrained to adopt the latter name--had died previous to this period; and as her grandfather Monsieur de Givry undertook the affair of her marriage, numerous were the propositions he privately received, and frequent the closettings and consultations on the subject. In these cases, the more people have, the more they require; and as Adeline had better blood, and more money, than most people, the family exigence in these respects was considerable, and the difficulties that lay in the way of procuring a suitable alliance, manifold.

"She had reached the age of seventeen, and this important point was still unsettled, when she and her mother went to visit a relative of Madame de Lignerolles, who was united to a Portuguese n.o.bleman. On her marriage, she had followed her husband to his own country; but he was now on a mission to the French court; and the Paris season being over, they had taken a chateau on the Loire, for the summer months. There were other young people in the house, and all sorts of amus.e.m.e.nts going on, which no one seemed to enjoy, at first, more than Adeline de Givry; but, at the end of a fortnight, a change began to be observable in her spirits and demeanour, which did not escape the observation of her young companions; and by their means awakened the attention of Madame de Saldanha, their hostess; who hinted to her cousin, Madame de Lignerolles, that Adeline was falling in love with the young Count de la Cruz; at least, such was the opinion of her own daughter, Isabella; adding, that if so abnormal a circ.u.mstance, as a young lady choosing her own husband was to happen, she could not have fixed on a more desirable individual than Rodriguez de la Cruz,--a man unexceptionable in person, mind, and manners whose genealogy might vie with that of the De Givry's themselves; and whose name was a.s.sociated with distinguished deeds of arms during the Holy Wars.

"But this indulgent view of the case was not shared by Madame de Lignerolles. She seemed exceedingly surprised and incredulous; but when the other insisted on the probability of such a result, since the two young people had been residing for six weeks under the same roof; and pointed out to the lady that the a.s.siduous attentions paid by De la Cruz to herself were, doubtless, not without an object, suggesting that that object was to gain her interest in his favour, she evinced so much displeasure and indignation, that Madame de Saldanha apologized and gave up the point, saying, she was very likely mistaken, and that it was a mere fancy of Isabella's.

"Nevertheless, these suspicions were perfectly well founded. De la Cruz was waiting for his father's consent to make his proposals in form; and this consent was only delayed till the old gentleman had time to come to Paris and make the needful inquiries regarding fortune and family; about which, he considered himself ent.i.tled to be quite as particular as the De Givry's.

"It was remarked that, from this time, Madame de Lignerolles observed her daughter with a jealous eye, and sought every means of keeping her away from the young Portuguese; added to which, as it afterwards appeared, she severely reproved Adeline for what she called the levity of her conduct.

"Moreover, she hastened her departure; and in a few days after the conversation with Madama de Saldanha, took her leave; alleging, that her presence was required by her father, in Paris. To Paris, however, she did not immediately go. There was in Brittany an ancient chateau belonging to the family, which, for some reason or other, they very rarely visited; it was supposed, because they possessed others more agreeable. At all events, whatever might be the cause, it was known that the old count had a mortal aversion to this residence, insomuch, that his daughter had never been there since her infancy; when something very unpleasant was reported to have happened to her mother's eldest brother shortly before his death. Thither, however, they now travelled with all speed, accompanied only by two maids and a man.

"Madame de Lignerolles was a person, in whom the maternal instinct had never been largely developed. She was even, still, at eight-and-thirty, a beautiful woman; and it was generally suspected, that she did not feel at all delighted at having this tall, handsome daughter, to proclaim her age; and, perhaps shortly, make her a grandmother. But, her manner to Adeline--usually, more indifferent than harsh--now a.s.sumed a new character; she seemed engrossed with her own thoughts; was cold and constrained; spoke little; and when she did, it was with a gravity truly portentous.

"They were not unexpected at Chateau Noir--for such was the ominous name of the old castle, which frowned upon them in the gloom of a dusky November evening; but instead of the liveried servants, by whom they were accustomed to be greeted, an elderly housekeeper, a concierge, and a few rustic menials, appeared to be its only inhabitants. However, they had done their best to make ready for this visit; fires were lighted, and dinner was prepared and served, accompanied by plenty of apologies for its not being better.

"The evening pa.s.sed in silence; they were tired, and went early to bed. The next two days, Mdme. de Lignerolles kept her room, and Adeline strolled about the neglected grounds, occupied with her own thoughts of the future, not without wondering a little at her mother's mysterious behaviour. On the third day, she was summoned to the presence of Mdme. de Lignerolles, who received and bade her be seated, with the same significant solemnity, and then proceeded to inform her that she had a most painful secret to communicate--a secret that had long prest upon her conscience, but which she could never find resolution to disclose; that lately, however, her confessor had so strongly urged her to perform this act of duty, that, with the greatest reluctance, she had resolved to obey his injunctions--her doing so having become more imperative from the fact of Adeline's having arrived at marriageable years, as in the event of any alliance presenting itself, honour would constrain her to speak. The dreadful secret was, that Adeline was not her child; that the nurse who had had the charge of her infancy, confessed on her death-bed, that she had subst.i.tuted her own infant for the countess's, that the latter had subsequently died, but that she could not leave the world in peace without avowing her crime.

"'I did not believe her,' said Mdme. de Lignerolles, 'but she reminded me that my child had a mole under the left breast, which you, Adeline, have not. This cruel change was effected during our absence from France. Shortly after my confinement, I was ordered to spend the winter in Italy, and the child was left to the care of my father and mother, who by that time had nearly lost her eye-sight. To this circ.u.mstance, and the little notice men usually take of infants, the woman trusted to escape detection. Of course, I could not discern the difference between the child I had left and the one I found. I had no suspicion; and whatever alterations I remarked, I attributed to the lapse of time--though I must own that maternal instinct offered a strong confirmation of the nurse's confession. While I believed you my own offspring, I had none of those tender yearnings which I have heard other women speak of, and I often reproached myself for the want of them. However, I endeavoured to do my duty by you, and no pains or expense were spared on your education, which was already nearly completed, when I became acquainted with this dreadful secret, of which, when the nurse died, I was the sole possessor. But, aware of the intense grief such a disclosure would occasion my husband, who was then in exceedingly bad health, I determined during his lifetime to preserve silence. After his death, I ought to have exerted courage to speak; but my mother adored you--it would have killed her. She is now gone, and there is only your grandfather left. I well know the suffering it will cause him, and, believe me, I feel for you--but my duty is plain. You will be amply provided for--' but ere the sentence could be finished, Adeline, who had sat like a statue, listening to this harangue, with wondering eyes and open lips, suddenly rose and rushed out of the room. That she was not Mdme. de Lignerolles' daughter caused her little grief, nor was she of an age very highly to appreciate the position and splendours she was losing; but she thought of her grandfather, whom she really loved; she thought of De la Cruz, and her heart filled with anguish.

"She was not pursued to her retreat; the whole day she kept her chamber, and Mdme. de Lignerolles kept hers. On the following morning, a note was handed to her from Mdme. de L., announcing that she was starting for Paris to communicate this distressing intelligence to M. de Givry; and desiring Adeline to remain where she was, under the care of Mdme. Vertot, the housekeeper, till she received further directions; a.s.suring her, at the same time, that everything should be done for her happiness and welfare, and, in due time, a suitable parti be provided for her."

Just as Monsieur de Venacour reached this point of his story, Madame de Montjerac returned from bathing, and if I looked at her with interest before, it may be well imagined how much more she inspired now.

"How extraordinary!" I said, as my eyes rested on her n.o.ble countenance and majestic figure, "that that distinguished-looking woman is really the daughter of a good-for-nothing servant; and yet I should have said, if ever there was a person who bore the unmistakeable impress of aristocracy, it is she."

He nodded his head, and significantly lifting his fore-finger to the side of his nose, said "Ecoutez!" and forthwith proceeded with his narration as follows.

"On Madam de Lignerolle's arrival in Paris, she sent for her father, threw herself at his feet, and with tears and lamentations, disclosed this dreadful secret, which, she said, had been making the misery of her life for the last two years; but whatever distress it occasioned her, it was quite evident that that of Monsieur de Givry was much more severe. He was wounded on all sides; his pride, his love of lineage, his personal affection for Adeline, and his horror of the notoriety such an extraordinary event must naturally acquire. So powerful were the two last sentiments, that for a moment he even entertained the idea of accepting Adeline as the heiress of Givry, and concealing the whole affair from her and every body else; but to this proposition his daughter objected that the poor girl was already in possession of the truth, and that it was impossible to make her a party to such a deception.

"'Then,' said Monsieur de Givry, 'she must die! There is no other expedient.'

"'Mais, non, mon pere!' cried Hermione, starting from her seat, evidently taken quite aback by this unexpected proposition.

"De Givry waved his hand with a melancholy smile; 'Enfant!' he said. 'Do you think I intend to become an a.s.sa.s.sin? G.o.d forbid!' And then he explained that he did not mean a real but a fict.i.tious death, for which purpose she must be removed to a foreign country, under the pretence of the re-appearance of pulmonary symptoms; that a husband must be found for her who would bind himself to leave France for ever, and to keep this secret, under pain of forfeiting the very handsome allowance he proposed to make them; for the safe conduct of which part of the business, it would be necessary to confide their unhappy circ.u.mstances to the family physician and lawyer. In the meantime, as these arrangements could not be made in a day, it was decided that Adeline should remain where she was till all was ready for their completion.

"'I shall take her out of the country myself,' he said, 'and you must accompany us. Every consideration must be shown her; she is the victim, and not the criminal.'

"In the course of this conversation, as may be imagined, Monsieur de Givry more than once lamented the extinction of his race; his daughter, however, on that point, offered him some consolation, by suggesting that she was still a young woman, and that for her father's sake, although she had never intended to marry again, she would consent to do so provided she could meet with an un.o.bjectionable parti.

"Shortly after this melancholy disclosure, De la Cruz arrived with his father in Paris; where they were so well received by Madame de Lignerolles, that the old gentleman, fascinated by her beauty and manners, expressed his surprise that his son had not fallen in love with the mother, instead of the daughter. However, at his son's desire, he made formal propositions for the young lady's hand; which, to the surprise of the young man, Monsieur de Livry said, was already promised; adding, however, that his granddaughter's state of health would, probably, r.e.t.a.r.d the union; the physicians having discovered that the seeds of consumption were beginning to develope themselves in her const.i.tution, and, consequently, recommended her removal to a warmer climate.

"In the meanwhile, the poor young girl was pining alone in the dreary, old chateau, with no companion but her own maid,--receiving no intelligence, and ignorant of her future fate. All she knew was, that she never could be the wife of Rodriguez de la Cruz. She supposed, that when he made his proposals, he would be informed of the circ.u.mstances above related, and that she should never hear more of him. But, in this, she was mistaken. About three weeks after her mother had left her, a letter from him arrived, saying, that he had succeeded in discovering where she was, and that he had lost no time in writing to inform her of the ill fortune that had attended his proposals; adding, that if her sentiments continued unchanged, he would come to Chateau Noir, accompanied by his own chaplain, who would unite them; after which, he had no doubt, it would be easy to obtain her grandfather's forgiveness; he, probably, having only refused his consent because he was trammelled by a prior engagement.

"But this letter was addressed to Mademoiselle de Lignerolles; and it was evident, from the whole tenour of it, that the writer knew nothing of the change in her fortunes. Honour forbad her to take advantage of this ignorance; but the struggle threw her into agonies of grief. She pa.s.sed a miserable day, and retired early to bed; where she might indulge her tears, and avoid the curious eyes of her maid, who was greatly perplexed at these unusual proceedings. Sleep was far from her eyes, and her mind was busy, framing the answer she had to write on the following day to De la Cruz, when she heard a knock at her chamber door. 'Come in,' she said; not doubting that it was her maid, or Madame Vertot. Immediately, she heard the handle turned, and she saw in a mirror that was opposite, the door open, and a miserable, haggard-looking woman enter. She was attired in rags, and she led by the hand two naked children. They approached the foot of the bed, and the woman held out a letter, as if she wished Adeline to take it, which she made an effort to do; but a sudden horror seized her, and she uttered a scream which roused her maid who slept in the adjoining apartment. She was found insensible; but the usual applications restored her; and, without telling what had happened, she requested the servant to pa.s.s the rest of the night in her room. The next day, she felt very poorly in consequence of this horrid vision; but she wrote to De la Cruz such a letter, as she felt her altered circ.u.mstances demanded. She could not bring herself to avow that she was the daughter of Robertine Collet; but sent him, simply, a cold, haughty refusal, which precluded all possibility of any further advances. The next day, she changed her room, and she saw no more of the frightful apparition.

"She had done her duty to De la Cruz, but she was miserable; and when, shortly afterwards, her grandfather arrived, accompanied by Dr. Pecher, the family physician, they found her exceedingly ill, and confined to her bed. This Dr. Pecher was a clever and worthy man; and having been necessarily made the confidant of the painful secret, it had been privately arranged between him and Monsieur de Givry, that he should marry the girl; and that they should, thereupon, quit the country,--Monsieur de G. making ample provision for their future maintenance.

"But the main thing needful, was to restore her to health; and in the course of his attendance on her, he learnt from her maid how she had been first attacked; and then elicited from herself, the cause of her alarm. Of course, he looked upon the vision as an illusion; in short, the premonitory symptoms of her illness,--and mentioned it in that light, to Monsieur de Givry. But to his surprise, Monsieur de G. took a different view of the matter; and hastening to Adeline's room, he made her repeat to him the exact description of what she had seen; after which, he started immediately for Paris, without explaining the motive of this sudden departure.

"On his arrival, he presented himself before his daughter, and taxed her with having deceived him; what her motive could be he was unable to imagine; he supposed it to be pecuniary, and that she did not wish to part with the large portion to be paid to Adeline on her marriage; but he believed that the traditionary apparition of his family would not have appeared to any one who was not a member of it; and that therefore the girl, who had accurately described the appearance of these figures, of which the young people were always kept in entire ignorance, must be actually his granddaughter.

"Madame de Lignerolles persisted in her story, and all she could be brought to own was, that it was possible, the woman, Collett, had deceived her. Strong in his own opinion, Monsieur de Givry returned to Chateau Noir, Dr. Pecher having recommended the young lady's removal; and after writing his daughter a very urgent and serious letter, he started on a tour of a few weeks, with Adeline, for the recovery of her health.

"No answer reached him for some time, but at the end of a month, he received one, acknowledging the cruel deception she had practiced, alleging as her excuse, an ardent pa.s.sion for Rodriguez de la Cruz; and the wish to detach him from Adeline, and marry him herself. But she had failed, and he was on the point of marriage with a lady selected for him by his father. The letter concluded by the announcement, that she was about to retire to a convent where she should, in due time, take the veil.

"Monseiur de Givry a.s.sumed this to be a mere ebullition of shame and disappointment; but she kept her word. Mademoiselle de Lignerolles, some years later, married the Baron de Montjerac, from whom, said Monsieur de Venacour, I heard the story. By him she had two sons; but the constant apprehension that in the eldest will be fulfilled the mauvais destin entailed on the heirs of Givry, preys, it is said, on her mind and health, and is the cause of the expression of melancholy for which her fine countenance is so remarkable.

"Some centuries earlier, when power was irresponsible, Count Armand de Givry, a cruel and oppressive lord of the soil, who then inhabited Chateau Noir, had put to death one of his serfs, and turned his wife and two children out of doors in inclement weather, forbidding any of his tenants to shelter or a.s.sist them. The children were without clothes, and the three poor creatures perished from cold and starvation, but leaving behind them a terrible retribution, in the form of a curse p.r.o.nounced by the wretched woman's lips in her dying agonies, which, strange to say, seems to have been pretty literally fulfilled.

"When they were nearly at the last extremity, some good Christian had had the courage to write a pathetic letter for her, which, however, it was necessary she should deliver herself, as no one else durst do it. She watched her opportunity; concealed herself in the park, and waylaid the Count as he returned one day from shooting. But instead of taking the letter, he set his dogs upon her, who would have torn her to pieces, but for the courageous interference of one of his followers.

"The curse ran, that never should the heir of Givry prosper till one of them took the letter; and that the last scion of the house should Renier le croix et se vouer a l'Enfer.

"Since that, it was said that, no eldest son or daughter of the house of Givry had lived and prospered, whilst the letter, in some way or other had been offered to every one of them; but as the cadets of the family lived and married and prospered like other people, they did not choose to believe in the story; at least, whatever their secret thoughts on the subject may have been, they publicly threw ridicule on the tradition, whenever it was alluded to; but Monsieur de Givry had sufficient faith in it to believe, that if Adeline had been the daughter of Robertine Collet, she would never have been visited by the ghost of Madeleine Dogue and her children."

THE SWISS LADY'S STORY.

"It was not I," said Madame de Geirsteche; "it was my mother who saw the apparition you have heard of; but I can tell you all the particulars of the story if you have patience to listen to it."

"You would be conferring a great favour," I said; "from what I have heard of the circ.u.mstance, I am already much interested."

We were in the steamboat that plies between Vevay and Geneva when this conversation occurred, and as there could not be a more convenient opportunity of hearing the narration, we retired from the crowd of travellers that thronged the deck, and Madame de G. began as follows.

"My husband's father, the elder Monsieur Geirsteche, was acquainted with two young men named Zwengler. He was at school and at college with them, and their intimacy continued after their education was finished. When one was fourteen and the other ten, they had the misfortune to lose both their parents by an accident. They were crossing the Alps, when by the fall of an avalanche their carriage was overturned down a precipice, and they and their servants perished.

"The Zwenglers were people of good family but small fortune; and as they had always lived fully up to what they had, their property, when it came to be divided between their four children, for they had two daughters besides the sons I have named, afforded but an inadequate portion to each; but this misfortune was mitigated by their rich relations--a wealthy uncle adopted the boys, and an equally wealthy aunt took the girls. This was but just, for they had both been enriched by what ought to have been the inheritance of the other sister, the mother of these children, who, having married Monsieur Zwengler contrary to the wishes of her parents, was cut off with a shilling. This uncle and aunt had never married, for their father objected to every match that was proposed, as not sufficiently advantageous; whilst the brother and sister, taking warning by the fate of Madame Zwengler, preferred living single to the risk of incurring the same penalty. The daughters having good fortunes married early, and I believe did well enough; it is on the history of the sons that my story turns.

"As I mentioned, they were at the same school with my husband's father when the catastrophe happened to their parents, and he remembered afterwards the different manner in which the news had affected them; Alfred's grief was apparently stormy and violent; that of the other was less demonstrative, but more genuine. Alfred, in short, was secretly elated at the independence he expected would be the consequence of this sudden bereavement; and he lost no time in a.s.suming over Louis the importance and authority of an elder brother. Louis was an enthusiastic, warm-hearted, and imaginative child, too young to appreciate his loss in a worldly point of view, but mourning his parents--especially his mother--sincerely.

"Alfred's hopes of independence were considerably abated, when he found himself under the guardianship of Mr. Altorf, his uncle, a proud, pompous, tenacious, arbitrary man; on the other hand, he was somewhat consoled by the expectation of becoming the heir to his large fortune, the magnitude of which he had frequently heard descanted on by his parents. He soon discovered, too, that as the heir expectant he had acquired an importance that he had never enjoyed before; and in order to make sure of these advantages, he neglected no means of recommending himself to the old gentleman, insomuch, that Mr. Altorf, being very fond of the study of chemistry, Alfred affected great delight in the same pursuit, sacrificing his own inclinations to shut himself up in his uncle's laboratory, with crucibles and chemicals that he often wished might be consumed in the furnace they employed. Louis, the while, pursued his studies, thoughtless of the future as young people usually are; but as he advanced in age, he began to exhibit symptoms of a failing const.i.tution, and as the law for which his uncle designed him required more study than was compatible with health, he was allowed to follow his inclination and become a soldier. With this view, he was sent to Paris, and committed to the surveillance of a friend of his uncle there, who was in the French service.

"No profession being proposed for Alfred, he lived on with his uncle, confirmed in the belief that though his brother, if he survived, would be remembered in the old man's will, he himself should inherit the bulk of the property. It was a weary life to him, shut up half the day in the laboratory, that he detested, in constant a.s.sociation with an uncongenial companion. Moreover, up to the period of his being of age, he was kept almost entirely without money, and was excluded from all the pleasures suitable to his years. When he attained his majority, he became possessed of the small patrimony that devolved on him as the eldest son of his father, and was enabled to make himself some amends for the privations he had previously submitted to. Not that he threw off his uncle's authority, or became openly less submissive and conformable; but secretly he contrived to procure himself many relaxations and enjoyments, from which he had before been shut out; and in the attaining and purchasing these pleasures he freely squandered all the proceeds of his inheritance, reckoning securely on the future being well provided for.

"His uncle inhabited a villa outside of Geneva, on the road to Ferney, and seldom came into the town, except when he visited his banker. His chemicals and other articles, Alfred usually purchased, and he had made acquaintance with several young men, whose society and amus.e.m.e.nts he availed himself of these opportunities to enjoy. One frosty day in December, he was strolling arm in arm with some of these youths, when, on turning a corner, he unexpectedly saw sailing down the street before them, the ma.s.sive figure of his uncle, attired in his best chocolate suit, his hair powdered, and a long pigtail hanging down his back. The air of conscious importance and pomposity with which he strode along, amused these gay companions, and they were diverting themselves at the old gentleman's expense, when his foot slipped on a slide, and he fell down. This was irresistible; and they all burst into a simultaneous shout of laughter. A pa.s.ser by immediately a.s.sisted him to rise; and as he did so, he turned round to see from whence the merriment proceeded--perhaps he had recognised his nephew's voice--at all events, Alfred felt sure he saw, if he did not hear, and thought it prudent to apologise for his ill-timed hilarity, which he sought to excuse by alleging that he had not at first been aware who it was that had fallen. Mr. Altorf looked stern; but as he said nothing, and never alluded to the subject again, Alfred congratulated himself at having got off so well, and endeavoured to efface any unpleasant impression that might remain by extra attentions and compliances.

"Everything went on as usual till the following year, when one morning the old gentleman was found dead in his bed, and the medical men p.r.o.nounced that he had expired in a fit of apoplexy.

"When the will--which was dated several years back--came to be read, it was found that after two trifling legacies, and five thousand pounds to Louis, the whole estate was bequeathed to Alfred, whose breast dilated with joy, as the words fell upon his ear, although it was no more than he was prepared for; but the first flush of triumph had not subsided, when the lawyer arrested the incipient congratulations of the company, by saying, 'Here is a codicil, I see, dated the fourteenth of December, last year.'

"The company resumed their seats, and a cold chill crept through Alfred's veins, as the reader proceeded as follows:-- "'I hereby revoke the bequest hereabove made to my nephew Alfred Zwengler, and I give and bequeath the whole of my estates, real and personal, to my nephew, Louis Zwengler. To my nephew, Alfred Zwengler, I give and bequeath my bust, which stands on the hall table. It is accounted a good likeness, and when I am gone, it will serve to keep him merry. May he have many a hearty laugh at it--on the wrong side of his mouth.'

"The auditors looked confounded on hearing this extraordinary paragraph, but Alfred understood it too well.

"It is unnecessary to dwell upon his feelings; a quarter of an hour ago he was one of the richest men of his canton--now there were not many poorer in all Switzerland than Alfred Zwengler. He had awakened from his long dream of wealth and importance, and habits of expense, to poverty and utter insignificance; while Louis, whom he had always despised--Louis, over whom he had domineered, and a.s.sumed the airs of an elder brother and a great man, had leapt into his shoes at one bound, and left him grovelling in the mud. How he hated him.

"But he might die; what letters they had had from Paris reported him very sickly; he might be killed in battle, for Europe was full of wars in those days; but he might do neither; and at all events, in the meantime what was Alfred to do? A thousand wild and desperate schemes pa.s.sed through his brain for bettering his situation, but none seemed practicable. The sole remnant of the property he had inherited from his father, that still remained in his possession, was a house in Geneva, called L'Hotel Dupont, that he had mortgaged to nearly its full value, intending at his uncle's death, to pay the money and redeem it. It had been let, but was now empty and under repair, and the creditors talked of selling it to pay themselves. But Alfred induced them to wait, by giving out that as soon as his brother understood his situation, he would advance the necessary sum to relieve him. Perhaps he really entertained this expectation, but he had no precise right to do so, for he had never given Louis a crown piece, though the latter had suffered much more from his uncle's parsimony than he had, having inherited nothing whatever from his parents. However, Alfred wrote to Louis, dating his letter from that house, dilating on his difficulties, and the hardness of his fate, and hinting that, had he come into possession of his uncle's fortune, as he had every right to expect he should, how he should have felt it his duty to act towards an only brother.

"He received no answer to this appeal; and, at first, he drew very unfavourable conclusions from his brother's silence; but, as time went on, and Louis neither appeared to take possession of his inheritance, nor wrote to account for his absence, hope began once more to dawn in the horizon; the brighter, that no letters whatever arrived from him; even the lawyers who had applied for instructions, received no answer. The last letter his uncle had had from him, had mentioned the probability of his joining the Republican forces in the south, if his health permitted him to do so. Altogether, there certainly were grounds for anxiety or hope, as it might be; I need not say which it was on this occasion. Rumours of b.l.o.o.d.y battles, too, prevailed, in which many had fallen. Even the creditors were content to wait, not being inclined to push to extremity a debtor, who might be on the verge of prosperity, for it was not likely that Louis would make a will; and it was even possible that he might have died before his uncle. In either case, Alfred was the undoubted heir; and, accordingly, he began once more to taste some of the sweets of fortune;--hats were doffed, hands were held out to him, and one or two sanguine spirits went so far as to offer loans of small sums and temporary accommodation.

"At length, affairs being in this state of uncertainty, the lawyers thought it necessary to investigate the matter, and endeavour to ascertain what was become of the heir. Measures were accordingly taken, which evidently kept Alfred in a violent state of agitation; but the result, apparently, made him amends for all he had suffered. It was proved that Louis, with his military friend, had joined the Republican forces in the south, but was supposed to have perished in an encounter with the Chouans; n.o.body could swear to having seen him dead; but, as the Republicans had been surprised and fallen into an ambush, they had been obliged to retreat, leaving their dead upon the field.

"This being the case, the property was given up to Alfred; a portion being sequestered, in order that it might acc.u.mulate for a certain number of years, for the purpose of refunding the original heir, should he--contrary to all expectation--reappear. If not, at the expiration of that term, the sequestrated portion would be released.

"Alfred Zwengler was now at the summit of his wishes; and one might have thought, would have felt the more intense satisfaction, in the possession of his wealth, from the narrow escape he had had of losing it; but this did not seem to be the case. He had, formerly, been very fond of society, though he had few opportunities of entering into it; but when he had, n.o.body enjoyed it more. Now, he did not shun mankind; on the contrary, he sought their company; but he was moody, silent, and apparently unhappy. People said, that he lived in constant fear of his brother's turning up again and reclaiming his inheritance. It might be so; n.o.body knew the cause of the change in him, for he was uncommunicative, even to his nearest acquaintance.

"One thing, that gave colour to this supposition was, that he evidently disliked to hear Louis named; and whenever he was alluded to, he invariably a.s.serted that he did not believe he was dead, and that he expected every day to see him come back. After saying this, it was observed that, he would turn deathly pale,--rising from his chair, and walking about the room in manifest agitation.

"Preferring the town to the country, Mr. Zwengler had declared his intention of residing in his own house, which had lately been repaired under his special directions, and fitted up with all the appliances of comfort and elegance; but he was scarcely settled there before he took a sudden and unaccountable dislike to it, and offered it for sale. As it was an excellent property, Mr. Geirsteche, my husband's father bought it; and Mr. Zwengler purchased another house and removed his furniture thither.

"Mr. Geirsteche had no intention of living in the house; he bought it as an investment; for being situated in one of the best streets of the city, it was sure to let well; and accordingly it was not long before he found an eligible tenent in Mr. Bautte, an eminent watchmaker of Geneva, who furnished it handsomely. He was very rich, and wanted it for his family, who expressed themselves delighted with their new residence. Nevertheless, they had not been in it three months before they expressed a desire to live in the environs of the city rather than in it. As Mr. Bautte had taken a long lease of the house, he put up a ticket announcing that it was to be let. A gentleman from Lucerne, named Maurice, who had just married his sister's governess, and wished therefore to reside at a distance from his family, took it for three years, with the option of keeping it on for whatever term he pleased at the end of that period. He gave directions for the furnishing, and when it was ready, they came to Geneva and took up their abode in their new house. At the end of a year, they applied to Mr. Bautte for permission to sub-let the house. There was no such provision in the agreement, and Mr. Bautte at first, we were told, objected, but consented after an interview with Mr. Maurice. But these frequent removals had begun to draw observation, and it began to be rumoured that there was something objectionable about the Hotel du Pont. The common people whispered that it was haunted; some said it was infested with rats; others that it was ill drained; in short, it got a bad reputation, and n.o.body was willing to take it. Mr. Maurice and his wife, who were gone to Paris for a few months, and had not yet removed their furniture, being informed of this, advertised it to be let furnished. So many strangers come to Geneva, that there is no want of tenants for good furnished houses, and it was soon engaged by a French family from Dijon. They took it for a year, but at the end of that time they left it for a residence much inferior in every respect, and yet more expensive; the rent Mr. Maurice asked being very moderate.

"I don't know who were the next tenants, but family after family took the house, for it was a very attractive one, but n.o.body lived in it long. When Mr. Maurice's three years had expired, Mr. Bautte bought his furniture, and continued to let the house furnished. He would have been glad to sell his lease, which was for thirty years, but n.o.body was inclined to buy it.

"I now, said Madame de G. come to that part of the story that concerns my mother. I have frequently heard the story from her own lips, and nothing made her so angry as to see people listen to it with incredulity. My grandfather, Mr. Colman, was, as you are aware, much given to the pursuit of literature, and as that is one that seldom brings wealth, his means were somewhat restricted, although he had a small independance of his own. He had three daughters and two sons, and when his family had outgrown their childhood, and my mother, who was the eldest, had attained the age of seventeen, they came to Geneva for the sake of giving the young people some advantages of education that he could not afford them in England; besides there was a good deal of literary society to be had here then, and the place was cheaper than it is now.

"Having no acquaintance, they applied on their arrival to an agent, who offered them several houses and L'Hotel du Pont amongst the number. At first they were about to decline it as a residence beyond their means; but when the rent was named, they took it immediately. It was so far the best house they had seen, and the cheapest, that when the agreement was signed, they expressed their surprise to the agent, at what appeared the unreasonable demands of the other proprietors.

"'Why, this house is particularly situated, sir,' said the agent. 'The gentleman who furnished it was obliged to leave Geneva almost immediately after he had settled himself here; and he being absent, and caring more for a good tenant than a high rent, we don't stand out for a price as people must do when they look to make money by a house.'

"Mr. Colman congratulated himself on his good luck in finding such a liberal proprietor, and in a few days he and his family were comfortably established in the Hotel du Pont. The only difficulty they had found was in procuring servants. They had one English maid with them, and, at last, they succeeded in getting two girls as cook and housemaid. The latter was a German, who had been brought there by a family who had gone on to Italy; and the former was a Frenchwoman, who had married a gentleman's valet, and had followed him from Paris to Geneva.

"As soon as everything was arranged, they resumed their usual habits--one of which was, that for an hour or two before they went to bed the father read aloud to them, in a room they called the library--it was, in fact, his writing-room--whilst the ladies worked. A few evenings after they had recommenced this practice, a discussion arose between Mr. Colman and his eldest daughter, Mary, as to the precise meaning of a French word, and the dictionary had to be appealed to to decide the question. Mary said it was in her bed-chamber, and left the room to fetch it. The library was on the ground-floor, and the staircase was a broad, handsome one as far as the first flight; it had been made by Alfred Zwengler when the house was repaired, and there was a wide landing at the top, the whole being lighted sufficiently for ordinary purposes by a lamp that hung in the hall. The stairs were very easy of ascent, and my mother--I mean Mary--for she was afterwards my mother, who was a lively, active girl, was springing up two steps at a time, when, to her amazement, she saw a gentleman in uniform standing on the landing above. She stopt suddenly, but as he did not appear to notice her, she continued to ascend, concluding it was some stranger, who had got into the house by mistake, for he did not look a thief; but when she reached the landing he was gone. She stood at first bewildered. There were four doors opening into bedrooms, but they were all shut; and after thinking a moment, she concluded it was the shadow of some cloaks and hats, and sticks, that were hanging in the hall, that had deceived her. She did not pause to consider how this could be, but turned into her own room; felt for the book, which she remembered to have left on her bed and ran down stairs again to her father; so occupied with the disputed question, that for the moment she forgot what had happened, and as her father resumed his reading immediately, she did not mention it. When they were going to bed, and they were lighting their candles in the hall, she said, 'you can't think what a start I had this evening when I went for the dictionary. It must have been the shadow of those cloaks and things, but I could have declared I saw an officer in uniform standing at the top of the stairs. I even saw his epaulette and the colour of his clothes.'

"'La! Mary,' said one of the younger ones, 'weren't you frightened?'

"'Frightened! no, why should I be frightened at a shadow?'

"'Or a handsome young officer either,' said one of the boys.

"She playfully gave him a tap on the head, and they all went to bed, thinking no more of the matter.

"The kitchen was at the back of the house, on the same floor as the library, and a few evenings after this occurrence, one of the girls being in the store-room, heard sounds of distress proceeding thence; and on opening the kitchen-door, to inquire what was the matter, she saw Jemima, the English girl, in hysterics, and the other two standing over her, sprinkling her face with water. They said that she had left the kitchen to fetch some worsted to mend her master's stockings, but that before she could have got up stairs, she had rushed back again, thrown herself into a chair, and 'gone off' as they expressed it. On hearing the noise, Mr. and Mrs. Colman joined them, but, for a long time, they could extract nothing from her--but that she had seen something. My grandfather asked if it was a rat, or a robber! but she only shook her head; and it was not till they had all left the kitchen and sent her a gla.s.s of wine, that she was sufficiently collected to tell them that, as she got to the foot of the stairs, she saw an officer in uniform, going up before her. He had his cap in his hand, and his sword at his side; and supposing he was some friend of her master's, she was going to follow him up; but when he reached the landing, to her surprise and horror, he disappeared through the wall.

"When the family heard this, combining it with what had happened to Mary--though the circ.u.mstance had never been mentioned in the hearing of the servants; nor, indeed, even alluded to a second time--they began to ask themselves whether it was possible any such person could get into the house? and they examined every part of it with care, but found nothing that threw a light on the mystery. After this, Jemima was afraid to go up stairs alone at night, and Gretchen shared her fears; but the Frenchwoman laughed at them both, and said she should like to see a ghost that would frighten her. One night, however, about nine o'clock, when the family were in the library, they suddenly heard a great noise upon the stairs, as if something had fallen from the top to the bottom, and when they all rushed out to see what was the matter, they found the cook lying across the lower step in a state of insensibility, and the coalscuttle upset beside her, with its contents scattered around. They carried her into the library, and when she revived, she insisted on immediately leaving the house; she would not sleep in it another night on any account whatever, and away she went. Gretchen and Jemima said, they were sure she had seen the ghost, but was too proud to own it, after turning their fears into ridicule; and the family began to be very much perplexed.