The Bashful Lover Part 9

Jasmin was very fond of going to see Cherubin; in the first place, the faithful retainer was already devotedly attached to his master's son; and in the second place, he always emptied several jars of wine with the foster-father, who also had become his friend. The marchioness had been dead five months, when Monsieur de Grandvilain at last got relief from his gout and was able to leave his great easy-chair. His first thought was to order the horses to be harnessed to his carriage; then he climbed in, Jasmin scrambling up behind, and they started for Gagny.

Little Cherubin continued in excellent health, because it was not he who had the delicacies that Turlurette continued to send to Nicole. One of the nurse's little boys had already died of inflammation of the bowels; the other two, who were larger and stronger, still held out against the biscuits and sweetmeats; but their complexions were sallow, while Cherubin's glowed with health and freshness.

On the day when the marquis started for Gagny, Jacquinot Frimousset had begun his visits to the wine-shop in the morning, and he was already quite drunk when one of his friends informed him that the Marquis de Grandvilain's carriage was in front of his door.

"Good!" said Jacquinot, "it's my friend Monsieur Jasmin come to see us.

He ain't a bit proud, although he's a valet de chambre in a n.o.ble family; we'll empty a few jugs together."

And the nurse's husband succeeded, although staggering and stumbling at every step, in reaching his own house; he entered the room where Monsieur de Grandvilain was at that moment occupied in dandling his son, who was then a year old; and who seemed much amused by his dear father's chin, which did not remain at rest for an instant.

"Who's that old codger?" cried Frimousset, trying to open his eyes and leaning against the wall.

"It's Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain himself," cried Nicole, making signs to her husband to a.s.sume a more respectful att.i.tude; but he roared with laughter, and said:

"That, Cherubin's father? Nonsense! Impossible! It's his grandfather, his great grandfather at least! As if a shrivelled and shrunken old fellow like that could have such young children!"

Monsieur de Grandvilain turned purple with rage; for a moment he was tempted to take his son away and never again set foot inside the house of that vulgar peasant who had said such unpleasant things to him; but Nicole had already succeeded in pushing her husband out of the room, and Jasmin, who was engaged in refreshing himself at a little distance, went to his master and said:

"Don't pay any attention to him, my dear master, the foster-father has been drinking; he's drunk, he can't see straight; but for that, he would never have said such things to you; he might have thought them, perhaps, but he wouldn't have said them."

"My husband is a drunken sot and nothing else," said Nicole. "I ask your pardon for him, monsieur le marquis; the idea of thinking that you ain't your son's father! Mon Dieu! it's plain enough that his eyes are blinded by drink. Why, the dear child is the very image of you! He has your nose and your mouth and your eyes and everything!"

This language was absurdly exaggerated, and far from flattering to little Cherubin; but the Marquis de Grandvilain, who did not choose to grow old, took it all for gospel truth; he looked at his son again and murmured:

"Yes, he looks like me, he will be a very handsome boy."

He rose and put a purse in the nurse's hand, saying to her:

"I am well pleased; my son is well; continue to take good care of him, for since the air of this neighborhood agrees with him, I think that I shall do well to leave him with you a long while, a very long while, in fact. Children always have time enough to study; health before everything! eh, Jasmin?"

"Oh yes! health indeed, monsieur! You are quite right; for what good does it do to know a lot when one is dead?"

Monsieur de Grandvilain smiled at his valet's reflection; then, after embracing Cherubin, he returned to his carriage. Jacquinot was cowering in a corner of the yard, and did not dare to stir; he contented himself with bowing to the marquis, who, as he pa.s.sed the peasant, drew himself up and did his utmost to impart to his gait the ease and firmness of youth.

Several months pa.s.sed. Monsieur de Grandvilain often said: "I am going to Gagny." But he did not go; the dread of meeting the foster-father again, and of being greeted with fresh compliments after the style of the former ones, restrained the marquis, and he contented himself with sending for his son, who had become large enough to take such a short journey without danger.

At such times Nicole pa.s.sed several hours at the mansion; but Cherubin did not enjoy himself there; he always wept and asked to be taken back to the village. Whereupon the marquis would embrace his son and say to his nurse:

"Go at once, we must not thwart him; perhaps it would make him ill."

Two more years pa.s.sed in this way. Cherubin was in excellent health, but he was not stout or robust, like the children of most peasants; he was a merry little fellow, he loved to play and to run about; but as soon as he was taken to Paris, as soon as he found himself with his father at the hotel de Grandvilain, the boy lost all his merriment; to be sure, the old mansion in Faubourg Saint-Germain was not a cheerful place; and the old marquis, who was almost always suffering from the gout, was rather a dismal object himself.

However, they did what they could to make his visits to his father's house pleasant to the youngster; they had filled a room with toys, and they always covered a table with sweetmeats; Cherubin was at liberty to eat everything, to break all that he saw; he was left free to do whatever he chose; but after looking at a few of the toys and eating a cake or two, the child would run to his nurse, take hold of her ap.r.o.n, gaze at her affectionately and say in an imploring voice:

"Mamma Nicole, ain't we going home soon?"

One day the marquis a.s.sumed a solemn expression, and beckoning his son to his side, said to him:

"But, Cherubin, you are at home here. When you are at the village, you are at your nurse's home; here you are in your father's house and consequently at your own home."

"Oh, no!" he replied, "this ain't to home."

"You are an obstinate little fellow, Cherubin; you don't think that you are at home here, because you are not used to being here; but if you should stay here no more than a fortnight, you would forget the village; for after all it is much finer here than at your nurse's house; isn't it?"

"Oh no! it's ever so much prettier to our house!"

"To our house! to our house! this is most annoying. However, as it is so, as you are not happy at your father's house, you are going to stay here, Cherubin; you shan't go back to your nurse's again; I am going to keep you with me; you shall not leave me after this; and at all events I will teach you to speak French, and not to say 'to our house' any more!"

The child did not dare to reply; the stern tone which his father a.s.sumed to him for the first time, terrified him so that he was speechless and dared not move; but in a moment his features contracted, his tears gushed forth and he began to sob.

Thereupon Jasmin, who, in an adjoining room, had heard all that had been said, rushed at his master like a madman, crying:

"Well! what does this mean? So you make our child cry now, do you?

That's very nice of you! do you propose to become a tyrant?"

"Hold your tongue, Jasmin!"

"No, monsieur, I won't allow you to make our little one unhappy! I should think not! I say that you shall not! Look, see how he is crying, the dear boy! For heaven's sake, what is the matter with you to-day, monsieur? Has the gout gone to your heart?"

"Jasmin----"

"I don't care, monsieur; beat me, discharge me, send me to the stable, make me sleep with the horses; do whatever you choose, but don't make this child cry; for if you do, why--I----"

Jasmin paused; he could say no more, because he too was weeping.

Monsieur de Grandvilain, when he saw his faithful servant cover his eyes with his handkerchief, held out his hand instead of scolding him, and said:

"Come! come! don't lose your head. I was wrong, yes, I was wrong, since I have made this poor child unhappy. After all, my company is not very lively; the gout often makes me cross. What would he do in this great house, poor boy? He is too young to be made to study. And then he no longer has any mother, so we must leave him with his nurse as long as possible. Besides, the air in Paris is not so good as that which he breathes in the village. So take back your foster-child, nurse; as he loves you so dearly, it must be that you make him happy. Come and kiss me, Cherubin, and don't cry any more; you are going back to your good friends; they do not love you any more than we do, but you love them more. I will try to be patient, and perhaps my turn will come some day."

"Bravo! bravo!" cried Jasmin, while his master embraced his son. "Ah!

that is what I call talking; I recognize you now, monsieur. Why, certainly your Cherubin will love you, he will adore you,--but later; you can't expect that all at once; let him grow a little, and if he doesn't love you then, why I shall have a word to say to him."

So the nurse took Cherubin back to the village. Nicole was well pleased to keep a child who was a fortune to her; but she promised the old marquis to bring his son to him the next week, for the old man seemed more depressed than usual at parting.

They say that there are presentiments, secret warnings, which enable us to divine that some disaster threatens us; that our heart beats more violently when we part from a dear one whom we are destined never to see again. Why should we not believe in presentiments? The ancients believed in omens; men of sense are sometimes very superst.i.tious; it is infinitely better to believe in many things than to believe in nothing; and strong minds are not always great minds.

Had the Marquis de Grandvilain a presentiment, that he was so loath to allow his son to go? That is something that we cannot tell; but it is a fact that he was destined never to see him again. Three days after the scene which we have described, an attack of gout carried the old n.o.bleman off in a few hours; he had only time to whisper to Jasmin the name of his notary, and to breathe that of his son.

The grief of the marquis's valet was more intense, more touching, more sincere, than that of a mult.i.tude of friends and relations would have been. When our servants love us, they love us dearly, for they know our faults as well as our good qualities, and they forgive us the former in favor of the latter, which our friends and acquaintances never do.

Jasmin was especially distressed because he had reproved his master for wanting to keep his son with him.

"I am responsible for his not being able to embrace his son again before he died, my poor master!" he said to himself. "He had a presentiment of his approaching death when he didn't want to send the child back to the country; and I presumed to scold him, villain that I am! and he did not strike me as I deserved; on the contrary, he gave me his hand! Ah! I would die of grief if I had not Cherubin to look out for."

Thereupon Jasmin recalled the fact that his master, before he closed his eyes, had stammered the name of his notary; and presuming that that functionary was instructed concerning the wishes of the late marquis, he made haste to go to him and tell him of his master's death.

Monsieur de Grandvilain's notary was a man still young, but of a serious and even somewhat severe aspect; he had, in fact, the marquis's will in his keeping, and was instructed to carry out his last wishes. He lost no time in opening the doc.u.ment which he had in charge, and read what follows: