The Bath Keepers Volume Ii Part 13

"What do you want, Hector?" inquired the marquis, raising his head; "I did not ring for you."

"That is true, monsieur le marquis; and I should not have ventured to disturb you without a reason, a motive; someone----"

"What is it, pray? Speak, explain yourself, Hector. Does someone wish to speak with me? Is it my son, or someone from him?"

"No, monsieur," replied the valet sadly, turning his eyes upon the floor; "no, it is not Monsieur Leodgard who sends--although the person probably knows him, for she came here to ask for him several months ago."

"The person--who is this person?"

"It is a young girl; she asks to be allowed the favor of speaking with monseigneur--in private."

"A young girl--and an acquaintance of Comte Leodgard--I can have nothing in common with such a person! Send the girl away, Hector!"

"I have the honor to a.s.sure monsieur le marquis that the person in question appears to be no less virtuous than respectable. She implores monseigneur to consent to hear her; she demands justice and says that she has no hope of obtaining it except through him."

"Justice!" muttered the marquis. "In that case, Hector, do not keep this girl waiting--admit her at once."

The old valet left the room, but he very soon returned with Ambroisine, who, when she reached the doorway, turned pale and began to tremble, and dared not go forward, for the marquis's aspect was stern and imposing.

The old man fastened his eyes upon her, and they inspired as much fear as respect in the person who faced them for the first time.

Hector gently pushed the lovely girl into the room, whispering to her:

"Don't be afraid! Monsieur le marquis is not so terrible as he looks."

Then, at a sign from his master, the valet bowed and disappeared, leaving Ambroisine alone with Leodgard's father, who motioned for her to come forward, saying:

"Come nearer, take a chair, and tell me what you desire from me, young woman."

"Justice, monsieur le marquis," replied Ambroisine, raising her head; for the old man's deep voice, instead of frightening her, seemed to restore her courage by reminding her of the motive that brought her thither.

"Justice? Has someone wronged you? have you reason to complain of someone?"

"I am not the one who has been wronged, seigneur; and it is not for myself that I have come to implore your a.s.sistance; it is for a friend, who is very unhappy, greatly to be pitied, but who would never have dared to come herself to tell you of her trials; and yet----"

"Explain yourself more clearly, my girl, and, above all things, be careful to tell nothing but the truth!"

"Ah! monseigneur, could anyone dare to lie before you? But I beg you to excuse me if I cannot express myself very well."

"A person always expresses herself well when falsehood and calumny do not sully her lips, and when she has faith in G.o.d's justice.--Speak, my child, I am listening."

"Bathilde--that is my friend's name--is not yet eighteen years old; her father, now the keeper of a bathing establishment on Rue Dauphine, is an old soldier, who served under Henri IV; he is a man of great courage, and the soul of honor. Bathilde was brought up very strictly in her parents' house; her mother never allowed her to go out, or to have any pleasure whatever.--Excuse me, monsieur le marquis, for going into all these details; I do it because the poor girl who knows nothing is in much greater danger of allowing herself to be deceived than one who is warned by experience. Unfortunately, Bathilde's mother went on a journey, and during her absence her daughter had more liberty. A young man noticed her at the Fire of Saint-Jean, to which I had the unfortunate idea of taking her.--You see, Bathilde is so pretty! there is so much candor and innocence in her beauty that it was easy for a seducer to divine that he could readily deceive her and triumph over her. Well, this young man constantly appeared before my friend's windows; then he sent her, by way of the window, a letter in which he made her the most loving promises; he swore that she should be his wife; he called G.o.d to witness the sanct.i.ty of his oath.--Ah! monseigneur, poor Bathilde would have considered that she insulted the man she loved if she had not had confidence in such an oath. She was weak, she was guilty! But judge of her despair when her mother returned and discovered her sin! Poor Bathilde was cast out pitilessly, turned into the street at midnight.--Luckily she remembered that I was her friend.--We did not spurn her! we gave her shelter; my father forgave her fault when he saw how miserably unhappy she was.--But Bathilde still hoped that her seducer would keep his promises; she wrote to him, she informed him that she bore within her a pledge of their love; and I undertook to deliver her letter, to see the man in whom her only hope lay.--Ah! monsieur le marquis, he who was the cause of all the harm rejected my pet.i.tion; he was unmoved by the sufferings of the poor girl whom he had shamefully abused; he ordered me to be turned out of his house, and forbade me ever to appear there again.--Is not that infamous behavior, seigneur? Is it not true that when one has dishonored a poor girl who was as pure and virtuous as she was beautiful, he has no right to be deaf to her prayers and to deny his child?"

The old man listened to Ambroisine with interest, and without interrupting her; while she was speaking, he sat with his head resting on his hand, seemingly weighing every word. When she finished, he looked at her with a kindly expression and said:

"You are a sincere and devoted friend--that is well; this that you are doing, one might ask in vain of the young men who press one another's hands with endless protestations of friendship. But, alas! my poor girl, what has happened to your friend is one of those misfortunes which have become too common in our day. Moreover, what is there to prove that this young Bathilde did not herself invite seduction, that her coquetry did not cause her ruin?--Lastly, why do you apply to me rather than to another, to obtain justice from this seducer? Am I his kinsman or his connection? have I any rights, any power, over him?"

Ambroisine, without replying, took from her breast the letter written to Bathilde by Leodgard, and with a trembling hand presented it to the old man; he had no sooner cast his eye on the paper than he recognized his son's hand. Thereupon his expression changed, a cloud darkened his brow; he controlled his emotion, however, and read the doc.u.ment that he held in his hands. As he read on, his expression became more severe, and when he had finished he let his head fall forward on his breast and seemed utterly crushed by that fresh blow.

Ambroisine, hopeful and afraid by turns, sat perfectly still, not daring to break the silence, and prayed under her breath that heaven would move the old man's heart to pity for poor Bathilde.

"It is my son, the heir of my name, who has done all this!" murmured the marquis at last, speaking to himself, as if he had forgotten the girl's presence. "O mon Dieu! am I doomed always to find him culpable? Shall I owe to him nothing but subjects of grief, misery, and shame?--Yes, it was certainly his hand that traced these characters--indeed, he did not hesitate to sign the letter--to write a name that has always been honorable at the foot of these lines which contain naught but falsehood and perfidy! which have no purpose but to drag an innocent girl to the pit!--Ah! he is misplaced in the reign of a just and virtuous monarch!

In the time of Henri III, in that age of license and libertinage, among the Maugirons and Schombergs and Saint-Megrins and the rest of the king's _mignons_, he would have found his fitting place, and would have obtained the approbation and favors of a dissolute court for his conduct! But to-day, when a firm hand holds the reins of the State, when protecting laws restore the courage of the weak and make the criminal tremble, my son, the last descendant of the line of Marvejols, seems by his conduct to seek to gain for his name the scandalous celebrity courted by the favorites of Henri III! I cannot allow these disgraceful proceedings to be prolonged! no! Justice must be done before all! Honor takes precedence of n.o.bility!"

And the old man, raising his head proudly, said to Ambroisine in a firm voice:

"Go back to your friend, my girl, and say to her that she will hear from me ere long."

Ambroisine would have been glad to know what she might hope for Bathilde, but a gesture from the marquis imposed silence on her; and she left the Hotel de Marvejols, uncertain as yet whether she should congratulate herself on having gone thither.

x.x.xV

AN UNEXPECTED CHANGE

Although the old marquis had told Ambroisine to say to Bathilde that she would soon hear from him, the _belle baigneuse_ did not think it well to tell her of the visit she had made to the father of her friend's seducer. She was afraid of arousing vain hopes in her heart. To no one save the Sire de Jarnonville did she describe her interview with Leodgard's father. The Black Chevalier, who now took a deep interest in Bathilde, said to Ambroisine, when she finished her story:

"Justice will be done! Do not doubt it, brave girl. The old marquis will, first of all, make inquiries about your friend and her relations; he will wish to make sure, first of all, that you have not deceived him in any respect; and when he is certain that all you have told him is true, I repeat, he will see that justice is done."

"But what do you mean by justice, seigneur chevalier? Can he force his son to marry Bathilde?"

"No; and, frankly, I do not think that such is his intention. But if Leodgard has a right to refuse to contract a union which does not meet his views; if, being of full age, and his own master, he is at liberty to defy his father's desires or his will, his father, who is in very good favor with the cardinal-minister, has but a word to say to induce Richelieu to send Leodgard to the Bastille. As for his victim, I do not doubt that the old marquis will make her independent and take care of her child."

"Money to Bathilde! Her lover in prison!--Oh! that is not what I wanted!

Bathilde will refuse the marquis's benefactions. She will blame herself for the punishment he inflicts on his son. And I shall be the cause of it all! Oh! I bitterly repent now that I went to the Hotel de Marvejols--my poor friend will never forgive me!"

"What was your hope, pray, when you went to Leodgard's father to tell him everything?"

"Mon Dieu!--I cannot say.--In the first place, I wanted him to scold his son--but without sending him to the Bastille! And then, I thought that perhaps Monsieur Leodgard would be ashamed of his conduct, and would try to make up for everything by--by marrying Bathilde!"

"Marry a bath keeper's daughter!--he, the Comte de Marvejols?--Ah! that is just what you must never dream of hoping for!"

Ambroisine cast down her eyes, but a deep flush overspread her cheeks, and her voice thrilled with n.o.ble pride as she murmured:

"Ah! then the daughters of bath keepers are of very little account in your eyes, monsieur le chevalier, if you think that they may be dishonored with impunity."

Jarnonville raised his eyes and gazed earnestly at the girl for some time. Never before had he examined her so closely. He was impressed by her beauty, for at that moment the flush which suffused her face, the pride and the grief that could be read upon her brow, gave to all her features an expression which made them even more charming than usual.

The chevalier was surprised beyond measure; he had never noticed that Hugonnet's daughter was so beautiful, or that her person possessed so many charms; for the first time in many months a faint smile played about his lips, and he said at last:

"If the daughters of bath keepers were contemptible, you alone would suffice to rehabilitate them. You mistook the meaning of my words. Far from my mind be the thought that there exists a cla.s.s which may be outraged with impunity! But, in conformity with the pa.s.sions of mankind, there are prejudices, customs, conventional proprieties; also pride and vanity, which, though they do not commit sin, too often prevent its being atoned for.--But I say again, I had no intention of insulting you, n.o.ble-hearted, devoted, generous girl! You, who embody so perfectly all the marvellous tales we are told of the friendships of ancient times!--Come, give me your hand, let me press it in mine, as gallant men do when they are reconciled; and then I shall be quite certain that you no longer bear me any ill will."

The Sire de Jarnonville offered Ambroisine his hand. She seemed to hesitate, her face flushed vividly once more, but its expression was softer and more yielding. At last she made up her mind; slowly she put forth her plump white hand, and laid it, trembling, in the chevalier's.

He pressed it as if it were the hand of a friend; but it is doubtful whether these two experienced at the contact the same sensations that two friends would have felt.

After a few seconds Jarnonville released Ambroisine's hand, and they parted, the former with a less sombre expression than usual, the _belle baigneuse_ reflecting upon what she had done for Bathilde, and perhaps also upon the grasp she had just exchanged with the Black Chevalier; for women have a meaning in all that they do, whereas a man often yields unreflectingly to a sudden impulse.