Pride Part 114

The baron was astounded now in his turn.

"What, monsieur, you refuse?" he exclaimed. "But no, I cannot have heard you aright. It is impossible that you should be so blind as not to see the immense advantages of such a marriage."

"Then I must endeavour to be more explicit, monsieur. I positively decline your offer, while acknowledging that Mlle. de Beaumesnil's kind intentions are entirely too flattering to me."

"You decline--the richest heiress in France. You treat Mlle. de Beaumesnil's unheard-of concessions with disdain."

"Pardon me," exclaimed Olivier, hastily interrupting him. "I told you just now how deeply honoured I felt by your proposition, so I should be truly inconsolable if you interpreted my refusal as in any respect uncomplimentary to Mlle. de Beaumesnil, whom I have not the honour of knowing."

"But I have offered you an opportunity to make her acquaintance."

"That would be useless, monsieur. I do not doubt Mlle. de Beaumesnil's merits in the least, but as I should tell you all under the circ.u.mstances, I am not free. My heart and my honour are alike pledged."

"You are betrothed already?"

"In short, monsieur, I am about to marry a young lady whom I both love and esteem."

"Great G.o.d! What are you telling me, monsieur?" exclaimed the unfortunate baron, fairly gasping for breath, so great was his consternation.

"The truth, monsieur, and such an announcement will suffice, I am sure, to convince you that--without the slightest intended disparagement of Mlle. de Beaumesnil--I cannot even consider the proposition you have made to me."

"But if this marriage doesn't come off, I shall lose my deputyship,"

thought the baron, despairingly. "Why the devil did the marquis insist upon my giving my consent if this young idiot was going to be fool enough to refuse such a colossal fortune? And there is my ward who declared to me this very morning that she would never marry anybody but Olivier Raymond. The marquis told me that I would find this an enigma, but all enigmas have their answers, and this can be no exception to the rule!"

So the baron, unwilling to renounce his hope of political preferment, added aloud:

"My dear sir, I implore you to reflect. Do not decide hastily. You have plighted your troth,--well and good! You love a young girl, you say,--so be it, but thank Heaven, you are still free, and there are sacrifices which one should have the courage to make for the sake of his future.

Think, monsieur, an income of more than three million francs a year from landed property! Why, n.o.body on earth could be expected to refuse such a fortune as that! And the young girl who loves you--if she really loves you for yourself alone--will be the first, if she is not frightfully selfish, to advise you to accept this unexpected good fortune with resignation. An income of over three million francs, my dear sir, and from real estate, remember."

"I have told you that my heart and honour are alike pledged, monsieur, so it pains me to see that, in spite of the favourable reports you have heard concerning me, you still believe me capable of a base and cowardly act," added Olivier, severely.

"Heaven forbid, my dear sir! I believe you to be the most honourable man in the world, but--"

"Will you do me the favour, monsieur," said Olivier, rising, "to inform Mlle. de Beaumesnil of the reasons that prompted my decision. I feel sure that when she hears them she will consider me worthy of her esteem, though--"

"But you are worthy of something more than esteem, my dear sir. Such disinterestedness is marvellous, admirable, sublime."

"Such disinterestedness on my part is a very simple thing, monsieur. I love and I am loved in return. The happiness of my life depends upon my approaching marriage."

And Olivier started towards the door.

"But take a few days for reflection, I beseech you, monsieur. Do not be guided by this first rash impulse. Again let me venture to remind you that it means an income of over three million francs from--"

"There is nothing more that you wish to say to me, I suppose, monsieur,"

said Olivier, interrupting the baron, and bowing, as if to take leave of him.

"Monsieur," exclaimed the baron, desperately, "consider, I beg of you, that this refusal on your part is sure to make Mlle. de Beaumesnil very unhappy; for you must realise that a guardian, a grave, conscientious man like myself, would not have taken the step I have, if he had not been absolutely compelled to do so. In other words, my ward will be made miserable by your refusal,--she will die, perhaps--"

"Monsieur, I beseech you, in my turn, to remember the exceedingly painful position in which you are placing me, a position, in fact, that it is impossible for me to endure longer after the announcement of my approaching marriage, which I have felt it my duty to make."

Again Olivier bowed respectfully to the baron, and again he started towards the door, adding, as he opened it:

"I should have been glad to end this interview less abruptly, monsieur.

Will you, therefore, be kind enough to excuse me, and to attribute my hasty retreat to an insistence on your part which places me in the most disagreeable, I was about to say the most ridiculous, position imaginable."

And having uttered these words, Olivier walked out of the room, in spite of the baron's despairing protests.

That gentleman, half frantic with disappointment and anger, rushed towards the door leading into the room where the hunchback and the two young girls were standing, and pulling aside the portiere, exclaimed:

"And now will you be good enough to explain the meaning of all this? Why have you made such a fool of me? And why does this M. Olivier refuse Mlle. de Beaumesnil's hand, and declare he has never seen her in his life when you a.s.sure me that he and my ward are desperately in love with each other?"

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE MYSTERY DEEPENS.

But M. de la Rochaigue's bewilderment was by no means at an end.

The baron had fully expected to find the unseen auditors of the foregoing conversation in a state of intense consternation over M.

Olivier's refusal.

Far from it.

Mlle. de Beaumesnil and Herminie, clasped in each other's arms, were laughing and crying and kissing each other in a transport of half delirious joy.

"He refused me! He refused me!" exclaimed Ernestine, in accents of ineffable delight.

"Ah, I told you that M. Olivier would not disappoint our expectations, my dear Ernestine," added Herminie.

"Wasn't I right? Didn't I tell you that he would refuse?" cried the marquis, no less delighted.

"Then why the devil did you make such a fuss about gaining my consent?"

demanded the baron, forgetting his dignity in his thorough exasperation.

"Why did both of you insist upon my making that young idiot such an unheard-of proposal, if you wanted him to refuse it?"

These words seemed to recall Ernestine to the fact of the baron's existence, for, releasing herself from her friend's arms, she turned a radiant face towards her guardian, and exclaimed, in tones of the most profound grat.i.tude:

"Oh, thank you, monsieur, thank you! I shall owe the happiness of my whole life to you, and I a.s.sure you, I shall never prove ungrateful."

"But you must have misunderstood him," cried the baron, "he refuses, he refuses, he refuses, I tell you."

"Yes, he refuses," exclaimed Ernestine, ecstatically. "Ah, has he not the n.o.blest of hearts!"

"They have certainly gone mad, every one of them," murmured the poor baron, in despair.