The Bath Keepers Volume I Part 6

AN OLD MANSION.--AN OLD n.o.bLE

Alone in a large and handsome room, richly furnished, the hangings of which, however, were very old and seemed to denote, on the part of the proprietors, a profound respect for whatever had belonged to their ancestors, an old man sat in an enormous easy-chair, whose carved and gilded frame seemed as ancient as the hangings, before a desk on which lay several boxes, books, and papers, which he was apparently engaged in examining with care.

Sometimes he paused in his labors; his brow was clouded, his expression stern, and a deep sigh escaped from his breast.

The Marquis de Marvejols was at this time nearly seventy years of age.

He was a tall, spare man, who still carried his head erect, whose gait was firm and his grasp strong, while his proud and a.s.sured bearing would have held in respect anyone who should attempt to impose upon him.

The old man's face was handsome, although severe. His white hair left bare a large part of his forehead, on which could be seen a scar caused by a blow from a lance; his moustaches and his beard, also snow-white, harmonized well with that martial countenance, which seemed to defy all dangers; and if the old marquis's keen gray eyes ordinarily wore a haughty expression that inspired fear rather than confidence, on the other hand, the extreme urbanity of his manners soon made one forget the stern and imposing effect of his general appearance.

Knee-breeches and doublet of violet velvet, a leather belt, a very high ruff, funnel-shaped top-boots, with spurs attached--such was the old man's costume, which had something military about it. Over all this he wore a long cloak, trimmed with ermine, which descended almost to his spurs.

Pushing aside with an angry gesture the papers he had been examining, Monsieur de Marvejols threw himself back in his chair, and turned his eyes upon several large portraits which hung on the walls. Two represented cavaliers with helmets on their heads, and their hands on their swords; a third was that of a young man wearing the little cap in vogue in the time of Henri III; and the fourth was the portrait of a young and lovely woman with a little boy on her knees.

In the immense apartments of olden time, s.p.a.ce was not spared; people were not shut up, as we are to-day, in the foul atmosphere of rooms six and a half feet in height; the lungs had an opportunity to do their work freely and the chest must have been in much better case.

In those days, it was easy to find room in a salon for those huge full-length portraits, which are ordinarily larger than life. Indeed, one sometimes saw them hung in two rows, and the furniture never reached to the frames.

To-day, in the apartments which our architects measure out for us so sparingly, we must renounce all thought of having large canvases, fine paintings of vast historical subjects, and in many cases even the full-length portrait of one of our ancestors, unless we choose to take the risk, when we sit down, of striking our heads against the painting at the first unpremeditated movement we chance to make.

The Marquis de Marvejol's mansion was on Rue Royale, where one may still see, in our day, some relics of the magnificent apartments of an earlier time. But what a difference! Although, on the outside, it still presents a reasonably well preserved image of what it was under Louis XIII; although it is still red and white, with its bricks surrounded by courses of stone, with its slated roof, its light balconies, its tall windows set in stone frames; although it has retained its low, dark, heavy galleries, which seem to have been built to defy the ages and the elements--on the other hand, the interior of its various wings is no longer the same, and, except in some few instances, the grandeur and magnificence of the olden time have entirely disappeared.

But at the time of our narrative there were, in the neighborhood of the Hotel de Marvejols, the Hotels de Lesdiguieres, de Guemenee, de Sully, d'Effiat, d'Aumont, de Chevreuse, de Chaulnes, de Saint-Paul, de Liancourt, etc., etc.

At that time, too, the Place Royale was the scene of all the fetes and _carrousels_, which attracted the n.o.bility, the bourgeoisie, and the people of Paris, who were called in those days _the good people_. When the marriage of Louis XIII and Anne of Austria was announced, fetes lasting three days were given on that square, although it was not entirely finished.

In later times, on that same spot where n.o.ble knights broke lances to entertain the ladies of their thoughts, who, seated on the balconies of the neighboring houses, enjoyed the jousting, and encouraged the champions of their charms by tender glances and by showing them in advance the knot of ribbon which was to be the guerdon of victory--on that same spot, we have seen and may still see the peaceable inhabitant of the Marais, who has nothing in common with the paladins of old, exercising his faithful dog and selecting a bench whereon to rest a moment in the sunshine, whose beneficent warmth allays his rheumatic pains. And the young nursemaid, too, with the children in her care, whom she often leaves to b.u.mp against trees, or to fall as they run hither and thither, while she is gossiping with other maids on the subject of their employers, which is much more amusing than to watch children. And the modest seamstress, on her way to carry home the work intrusted to her, who crosses the Place Royale, although it is not directly on her road, because she ordinarily meets there a young man who makes flattering remarks to her; there is no law against seeking pleasant meetings.

All this is far removed from the tourneys, the fanfares of trumpets, the sound of clarion and drum; from the great ladies at the windows, from the knights in the arena, from the esquires and pages and servants carrying their masters' weapons and bucklers, and from the charming troubadours, or _trouveres_, who had seats of honor beside the high and mighty n.o.bles, because they were destined, later, to sing in laudation of it all.

Other times, other manners!

The old Marquis de Marvejols gazed gloomily enough at the portraits which adorned his study--for the enormous room in which he sat was nothing more than that. Soon he leaned over his desk once more, and seizing a bell rang it violently.

A valet, almost as old as his master, instantly showed his bald head beneath a velvet portiere which he raised. His face, in respect to the general effect of the features and their mild expression, might have served as a model for a painting of Obedience, as personified in a servant, except that when he raised the corners of his mouth in a smile there were some slight indications of a tendency to be cunning; but if that tendency actually existed in the old servant, it never went beyond the corners of his mouth.

"Did monsieur le marquis ring?" inquired a shrill, cracked voice.

"Has my son gone out this morning, Hector?"

Old Hector pressed his lips together, and the corners of his mouth a.s.sumed their sly expression, as he replied in a drawling tone:

"Monsieur le Comte Leodgard de Marvejols certainly has not left the house this morning; I am certain of that."

"In that case, go to my son and tell him that I wish to speak with him--at once, before he goes out."

The old servant looked down at his feet, but did not budge.

"Well! did you not hear me, Hector?" continued the marquis, testily; "have your ears grown dull, that I have to give you the same order twice?"

"No, monsieur le marquis, no, thank heaven! my ears are still good. I have not the least occasion to reproach them. And if I have not obeyed the command you have done me the honor to give me, it is because----"

"Well! because what? finish, I say!"

"I cannot tell Monsieur le Comte Leodgard to come to speak with you, because he is not in the house."

"Not in the house? Why, you told me only a moment ago that my son had not gone out this morning!"

"That is true, monseigneur; he has not gone out this morning, because he did not come in last night."

The marquis put his hand to his forehead.

"Ah!" he cried; "of course, I understand! You did not wish to tell me that, my poor Hector; you would like to conceal my son's disorderly conduct from me! But it is useless for you to try to deceive me. I know everything; and it is much better that I should know everything; for one must know where the trouble lies, in order to put a stop to it. All this has been going on a very long while, and it must come to an end!"

"Monsieur le Comte Leodgard is still very young," murmured Hector, still draped by the portiere.

"Very young--when he has nearly reached his twenty-sixth year! A man is a man at that age, and he no longer has the first effervescence of youth for an excuse! Ah! when I was at that age, you were already in my service--do you remember, Hector?"

"As if it was yesterday, monseigneur; my memory is as sound as my ears."

"Very well! I served in the army, I fought, I lived in camp. But, although I was a bachelor,--for I married quite late,--did I ever lead this life of licentiousness, of debauchery, which makes me blush for my son?"

"All young men are not as irreproachable as monseigneur has always been--as bachelor, husband, and widower."

"I do not expect that he shall be faultless! I do not demand the impossible! But I do not propose that weaknesses shall become vices; faults, crimes!"

"Oh! monsieur le marquis! be indulgent to monsieur your son!"

"I have been indulgent enough, too much so, perhaps. I must see Leodgard; he must be made acquainted with my irrevocable determination!--And that rascally Latournelle, his valet--is he still in the house?"

"No, monseigneur; I have not seen him for several days."

"I told my son to discharge that knave; a scoundrel, a blackleg, a gambler, who ought to be hanged."

At that moment, the conversation was interrupted by the sound of a horse galloping into the courtyard.

Hector let the portiere fall, went into a reception room, looked out of the window, and returned with a radiant face, saying to his master:

"Here is Monsieur le Comte Leodgard, just coming in."

"Go to him, then; tell him that I await him. Go--do not lose an instant, for he may have gone away again."

Old Hector disappeared to execute his master's command.

In a few moments, Leodgard entered his father's apartment. The young count was pale, his face was drawn and haggard, his eyes sunken from loss of sleep; and the disorder of his clothes, the dust with which they were covered, seemed to indicate that he had recently ridden a long distance on horseback.

He walked forward with a respectful air, but was evidently out of temper. He bowed to his father and remained standing in the middle of the room.