The False Chevalier Part 23

The professional consulted a register "L" on a shelf behind.

"The name is a common one, sir, yet the list is not long. Indeed so common is the name, and so short the list of its stocks of distinction that there have been but two. One is the well-known family of Amiens, the other is now obscure."

"What branch is the latter?"

"The LeCours de Lincy, formerly a conspicuous race in the annals of Poitou and very ancient. Their device: a golden lion rampant on an azure shield."

"A golden lion rampant on an azure shield," repeated Germain musing.

"By chance the last of the de Lincys is known to me, and sleeps not far from where we are sitting--a n.o.ble so old and poor that he never enjoys firewood, and apparently lives solely on the sight of his precious proofs of _n.o.blesse_; a food which, excuse me, Monsieur, is, in my opinion, very innutritious."

A ray of hope crossed Germain's mind.

"Would he sell these proofs?"

The genealogist at once understood Germain's position, but he would take no mean advantage; he was honourable within his calling. He merely answered--

"No, sir."

"Could you not obtain copies?"

"For fifteen louis."

"Here they are," replied Lecour, opening his purse and handing over the gold.

The genealogist's ruddy face twinkled.

"Now," said Germain, "this gentleman of whom you spoke is my relative. I desire to see him."

"To some men," replied the other, "I would say Monsieur de Lincy is part of my professional plant, and I cannot give you the information. To you, sir, it shall be different, for I take you for a man of honour, and all I desire is your word that nothing will be done by you without payment of such fees as I may ask."

"Agreed," returned Germain, repressing his expectancy.

"Then you can be conducted to him in the morning, and it must be by myself, for otherwise he would not trust you. Will you accept a lodging with me, a plain room, but no worse than at an inn."

Lecour only too gladly accepted the refuge; but before retiring he said--

"My name is Lecour."

"I knew it," returned the genealogist. "Have no fear of my confidence. I am not like the vipers who throng my profession. To proceed a step further, I venture boldly the theory, sir, that you are the Monsieur Lecour de Repentigny about whose t.i.tle there has just been some little question."

Germain's heart jumped, and he sat for a moment speechless.

"It is true," he said at last.

"You wish me to advise you?"

Lecour nodded.

"With my advice, then, the thing will be simple. First quit the name of Repentigny, which will always create jealousies. I leave to yourself the excuses you will make for having borne it--that you bought the seigniory of that name or that you possess another of the same appellation, or that it was very anciently a possession of your family. The armorials show there were LeCours de Tilly; there were also LeGardeurs de Tilly, related to the LeGardeurs de Repentigny. You might thus claim possible relationship. But, as I have said, I leave to yourself the choice of excuses on that point. Secondly, we must carry out your design of allying yourself with old de Lincy, who is in such horrible need of a friend, that it will be a benefit to you both; and thirdly, you must see to the correction of all marriage contracts, baptismal and death certificates, and other registers by the insertion of the n.o.ble appellation which will then belong to your family. This is your case in brief."

Lecour looked at him, heaving a deep breath of relief, and rising, allowed himself to be shown to the sleeping chamber.

When about to breakfast the next morning, on the rolls and wine sent up by the genealogist, he found a tiny package on his plate, opening which he saw a handsome old watch-seal fitted with a newly-cut stone in intaglio, showing a lion rampant on a shield.

The genealogist had had a jeweller cut on an old seal during the night the arms of the de Lincys.

Speculating much, but saying little in reply to Gille's garrulity, he set off with him to the old n.o.ble's attic. A voice, broken by asthma, feebly called upon them to enter, and Germain's eyes fell upon, lying on a tattered mattress by the window, the last wreck of a gentleman, with whom he instantly felt the greatest sympathy. The rotten wood floor and part.i.tions of the room were bare of furniture except a worn box and half a dozen dingy oil portraits of ancestors. The occupant's features were pinched with sadness and starvation. His hair was white. He raised himself with dignity to a sitting position, however, and received them with a grave courtesy.

"Pardon us, Monsieur de Lincy!" the genealogist exclaimed; "I have made a discovery which will be so interesting to you that I have hastened to break it without waiting for the sun to rise higher."

"The hour is nothing," de Lincy replied; "I have always received visitors in bed."

"But not always relatives."

A lofty look pa.s.sed over the other's face.

"I am the only de Lincy."

"Will Monsieur lend me his seal?" said Maitre Gilles to Lecour. Then, handing it to the de Lincy, he exclaimed, "Here is a discovery of mine!"

"What, are these my arms?" cried the old man.

"Yes, sir, preserved for generations in a distant colony by a branch that does you honour. Permit me, sir, to introduce you to your cousin, Monsieur LeCour de Lincy, of Canada, officer of the Bodyguard, and who longs to make the acquaintance of the head of his family."

De Lincy bowed ceremoniously, and, glancing again at the ring, examined it with avidity.

"The arms are those of my ancestors; and you say, sir, that this is an heirloom of your family in Canada."

Lecour nodded.

"Your name is really----"

"LeCour."

"Discovered to be your cousin by Maitre Gilles, the expert in genealogy, remember, Chevalier."

"You are very good, I admit," the old n.o.ble replied. "Yes, yes," he mused aloud on recovering, permitting his eyes to rest on Germain's face, "he resembles the portrait of my grandfather--that portrait on the right. There is a tradition that a lost branch was flourishing somewhere in distant countries. Maitre Gilles, under my pillow you will find the key of my box--my muniment chest. Please to open it and hand me the genealogical tree which is on the top of the parchments. Very good; here then is the branch of which I speak, the progeny of Hippolyte, lieutenant in the marine in 1683: it must be this line. The saints be praised that the grandeur of our fortunes still has so worthy a representative, and that I set my eyes once more upon a LeCour de Lincy.

To you these precious portraits of our forefathers and the priceless t.i.tles to our n.o.bility and to the ruins of our chateau shall descend.

They shall not be lost, despised and scattered. _O mon Dieu!_ I thank thee."

With tears he reached his arms to Germain and embraced him, and so strange is human nature that Germain, enclosed in that pathetic embrace, began to believe himself really a scion of the lost branch of the de Lincys, descendants of Hippolyte.

Gilles departed, Germain remained. He insisted on aiding the Chevalier to dress, and on supporting his trembling footsteps down the stairway and to the nearest _cafe_, where they fittingly celebrated the occasion.

The Chevalier eagerly brought Germain back to look over the chest of doc.u.ments, and gave him permission with joy to obtain authenticated copies, and on parting, towards the end of the day, actually pressed upon him one of those portraits, precious to him as his life-blood.