The Golden Lion of Granpere Part 23

'What is it, then? You don't want the girl herself?'

'No;--certainly not. I would not take her if she came and knelt to me.'

'What can we do, then? If you will only say.'

'I want--I want--I don't know what I want. I have been cruelly ill-used, and made a fool of before everybody. I never heard of such a case before;--never. And I have been so generous and honest to you! I did not ask for a franc of dot; and now you come and offer me money. I don't think any man ever was so badly used anywhere.' And on saying this Adrian Urmand in very truth burst into tears.

The innkeeper's heart was melted at once. It was all so true!

Between them they had treated him very badly. But then there had been so many unfortunate and unavoidable mistakes! When the young man talked of compensation, what was Michel Voss to think? His son had been led into exactly the same error. Nevertheless, he repented himself bitterly in that he had said anything about money, and was prepared to make the most abject apologies. Adrian Urmand had fallen into a chair, and Michel Voss came and seated himself close beside him.

'I beg your pardon, Urmand; I do indeed. I ought not to have mentioned money. But when you spoke of compensation--'

'It wasn't that. It wasn't that. It's my feelings!'

Then the white cambric handkerchief was taken out and used with considerable vehemence.

From that moment the innkeeper's goodwill towards Urmand returned, though of course he was quite aware that there was no place for him in that family.

'If there is anything I can do, I will do it,' said Michel piteously. 'It has been unfortunate. I know it has been very unfortunate. But we didn't mean to be untrue.'

'If you had only left me alone when I was at home!' said the unfortunate young man, who was still sobbing bitterly.

They two remained in the long room together for a considerable time, during all of which Michel Voss was as gentle as though Urmand had been a child. Nor did the poor rejected lover again have recourse to any violence of abuse, though he would over and over again repeat his opinion that surely, since lovers were first known in the world, and betrothals of marriage first made, no one had ever been so ill-used as was he. It soon became clear to Michel that his great grief did not come from the loss of his wife, but from the feeling that everybody would know that he had been ill-used. There wasn't a shopkeeper in his own town, he said, who hadn't heard of his approaching marriage. And what was he to say when he went back?

'Just say that you found us so rough and rustic,' said Michel Voss.

But Urmand knew well that no such saying on his part would be believed.

'I think I shall go to Lyons,' said he, 'and stay there for six months. What's the business to me? I don't care for the business.'

There they sat all the morning. Two or three times Peter Veque opened the door, peeped in at them, and then brought down word that the conference was still going on.

'The master is sitting just over him like,' said Peter, 'and they're as close and loving as birds.'

Marie listened, and said not a word to any one. George had made two or three little attempts during the morning to entice her into some lover-like privacy. But Marie would not be enticed. The man to whom she was betrothed was still in the house; and, though she was quite secure that the betrothals would now be absolutely annulled, still she would not actually entertain another lover till this was done.

At length the door of the long room was opened, and the two men came out. Adrian Urmand, who was the first to be seen in the pa.s.sage, went at once to his bedroom, and then Michel descended to the little parlour. Marie was at the moment sitting on her stool of authority in the office, from whence she could hear what was said in the parlour. Satisfied with this, she did not come down from her seat.

In the parlour was Madame Voss and the Cure, and George, who had seen his father from the front door, at once joined them.

'Well,' said Madame Voss, 'how is it to be?'

'I've arranged that we're to have a little picnic up the ravine to-morrow,' said Michel.

'A picnic!' said the Cure.

'I'm all for a picnic,' said George.

'A picnic!' said Madame Voss, 'and the ground as wet as a sop, and the wind from the mountains enough to cut one in two.'

'Never mind about the wind. We'll take coats and umbrellas. It's better to have some kind of an outing, and then he'll recover himself.' Marie, as she heard all this, made up her mind that if any possible store of provisions packed in hampers could bring her late lover round to equanimity, no efforts on her part should be wanting. She would pack up cold chickens and champagne bottles with the greatest pleasure, and would eat her dinner sitting on a rock, even though the wind from the mountains should cut her in two.

'And so it's all to end in a picnic,' said M. le Cure, with evident disgust.

It appeared from Michel's description of what had taken place during that very long interview that Adrian Urmand had at last become quite gentle and confidential. In what way could he be let down the most easily? That was the question for the answering which these two heads were kept together in conference so long. How could it be made to appear that the betrothal had been annulled by mutual consent? At last the happy idea of a picnic occurred to Michel himself. 'I never thought about the time of the year,' he said; 'but when friends are here and we want to do our best for them, we always take them to the ravine, and have dinners on the rocks.' It had seemed to him, and as he declared to Urmand also, that if something like a jubilee could be got up before the young man's departure, it would appear as though there could not have been much disappointment.

'We shall all catch our death of cold,' said Madame Voss.

'We needn't stay long, you know,' said Michel. 'And, Marie,' said he, going into the little office in which his niece was still seated, 'Marie, mind you behave yourself.'

'O, I will, Uncle Michel,' she said. 'You shall see.'

CHAPTER XXI.

They all sat down together at supper that evening, Marie dispensing her soup as usual before she went to the table. She sat next to her uncle on one side, and below her there were vacant seats. Urmand took a chair on the left hand of Madame Voss, next to him was the Cure, and below the Cure the happy rival. It had all been arranged by Marie herself, with the greatest care. Urmand seemed to have got over the worst of his trouble, and when Marie came to the table bowed to her graciously. She bowed in return, and then eat her soup in silence. Michel Voss overdid his part a little by too much talking, but his wife restored the balance by her prudence. George told them how strong the French party was at Colmar, and explained that the Germans had not a leg to stand upon as far as general opinion went. Before the supper was over, Adrian Urmand was talking glibly enough; and it really seemed as though the terrible misfortunes of the Lion d'Or would arrange themselves comfortably after all. When supper was done, the father, son, and the discarded lover smoked their pipes together amicably in the billiard room.

There was not a word said then by either of them in connection with Marie Bromar.

On the next morning the sun was bright, and the air was as warm as it ever is in October. The day, perhaps, might not have been selected for an out-of-doors party had there been no special reason for such an arrangement; but seeing how strong a reason existed, even Madame Voss acknowledged that the morning was favourable.

While those pipes of peace were being smoked over night, Marie had been preparing the hampers. On the next morning n.o.body except Marie herself was very early. It was intended that the day should be got through at any rate with a pretence of pleasure, and they were all to be as idle, and genteel, and agreeable as possible. It had been settled that they should start at twelve. The drive, unfortunately, would not consume much more than half an hour. Then what with unpacking, climbing about the rocks, and throwing stones down into the river, they would get through the time till two. At two they would eat their dinner--with all their shawls and greatcoats around them--then smoke their cigars, and come back when they found it impossible to drag out the day any longer. Marie was not to talk to George, and was to be specially courteous to M. Urmand. The two old ladies accompanied them, as did also M. le Cure Gondin. The programme for the day did not seem to be very delightful; but it appeared to Michel Voss that in this way, better than in any other, could some little halo be thrown over the parting hours of poor Adrian Urmand.

Everything went as well as could have been antic.i.p.ated. They managed to delay their departure till nearly half-past twelve, and were so lost in wonder at the quant.i.ty of water running down the fall in the ravine, that there had hardly been any heaviness of time when they seated themselves on the rocks at half-past two.

'Now for the business of the day,' said Michel, as, standing up, he plunged a knife and fork into a large pie which he had placed on a boulder before him. 'Marie has got no soup for us here, so we must begin with the solids at once.' Soon after that one cork might have been heard to fly, and then another, and no stranger looking on would have believed how dreadful had been the enmity existing on the previous day--or, indeed, how great a cause for enmity there had been. Michel himself was very hilarious. If he could only obliterate in any way the evil which he had certainly inflicted on that unfortunate young man! 'Urmand, my friend, another gla.s.s of wine. George, fill our friend Urmand's gla.s.s; not so quickly, George, not so quickly; you give him nothing but the froth. Adrian Urmand, your very good health. May you always be a happy and successful man!' So saying, Michel Voss drained his own tumbler.

Urmand, at the moment, was seated in a niche among the rocks, in which a cushion out of the carriage had been placed for his special accommodation. Indeed, every comfort and luxury had been showered upon his head to compensate him for his lost bride. This was the third time that he had been by name invited to drink his wine, and three times he had obeyed. Now, feeling himself to be summoned in a very peculiar way--feeling also, perhaps, that that which might have made others drunk had made him bold, he extricated himself from his niche, and stood upon his legs among the rocks. He stood upon his legs among the rocks, and with a graceful movement of his arm, waved the gla.s.s above his head.

'We are delighted to have you here among us, my friend,' said Michel Voss, who also, perhaps, had been made bold. Madame Voss, who was close to her husband, pulled him by the sleeve. Then he seated himself, but Adrian Urmand was left standing among them.

'My friend,' said he, 'and you, Madame Voss particularly, I feel particularly obliged to you for this charming entertainment.' Then the innkeeper cheered his guest, whereupon Madame Voss pulled her husband's sleeve harder than before. 'I am, indeed,' continued Urmand. 'The best thing will be,' said he, 'to make a clean breast of it at once. You all know why I came here,--and you all know how I'm going back.' At this moment his voice faltered a little, and he almost sobbed. Both the old ladies immediately put their handkerchiefs to their eyes. Marie blushed and turned away her face on to her uncle's shoulder. Madame Voss remained immovable. She dreaded greatly any symptoms of that courage which follows the flying of corks. In truth, however, she had nothing now to fear.

'Of course, I feel it a little,' continued Adrian Urmand. 'That is only natural. I suppose it was a mistake; but it has been rather trying to me. But I am ready to forget and forgive, and that is all I've got to say.' This speech, which astonished them all exceedingly, remained unanswered for some few moments, during which Urmand had sunk back into his niche. Michel Voss was not ready-witted enough to reply to his guest at the moment, and George was aware that it would not be fitting for him, the triumphant lover, to make any reply. He could hardly have spoken without showing his triumph.

During this short interval no one said a word, and Urmand endeavoured to a.s.sume a look of gloomy dignity.

But at last Michel Voss got upon his legs, his wife giving him various twitches on the sleeve as he did so. 'I never was so much affected in my life,' said he, 'and upon my word I think that our excellent friend Adrian Urmand has behaved as well in a trying difficulty as,--as,--as any man ever did. I needn't say much about it, for we all know what it was. And we all know that young women will be young women, and that they are very hard to manage.'

'Don't, Uncle Michel' said Marie in a whisper. But Michel was too bold to attend either to whisperings or pullings of the sleeve, and went on with his speech. 'There has been a slight mistake, but I hope sincerely that everything has now been made right. Here is our friend Adrian Urmand's health, and I am quite sure that we all hope that he may get an excellent, beautiful young wife, with a good dowry, and that before long.' Then he too sat down, and all the ladies drank to the health and future fortunes of M. Adrian Urmand.

Upon the whole the rejected lover liked it. At any rate it was better so than being alone and moody and despised of all people. He would know now how to get away from Granpere without having to plan a surrept.i.tious escape. Of course he had come out intending to be miserable, to be known as an ill-used man who had been treated with an amount of cruelty surpa.s.sing all that had ever been told of in love histories. To be depressed by the weight of the ill-usage which he had borne was a part of the play which he had to act. But the play when acted after this fashion had in it something of pleasing excitement, and he felt a.s.sured that he was exhibiting dignity in very adverse circ.u.mstances. George Voss was probably thinking ill of the young man all the while; but every one else there conceived that M. Urmand bore himself well under most trying circ.u.mstances. After the banquet was over Marie expressed herself so much touched as almost to incur the jealousy of her more fortunate lover. When the speeches were finished the men made themselves happy with their cigars and wine till Madame Voss declared that she was already half-dead with the cold and damp, and then they all returned to the inn in excellent spirits. That which had made so bold both Michel and his guest had not been allowed to have any more extended or more deleterious effect.

On the next morning M. Urmand returned home to Basle, taking the public conveyance as far as Remiremont. Everybody was up to see him off, and Marie herself gave him his cup of coffee at parting. It was pretty to see the mingled grace and shame with which the little ceremony was performed. She hardly said a word; indeed what word she did say was heard by no one; but she crossed her hands on her breast, and the gravest smile came over her face, and she turned her eyes down to the ground, and if any one ever begged pardon without a word spoken, Marie Bromar then asked Adrian Urmand to pardon her the evil she had wrought upon him. 'O, yes;--of course,' he said.

'It's all right. It's all right.' Then she gave him her hand, and said good-bye, and ran away up into her room. Though she had got rid of one lover, not a word had yet been said as to her uncle's acceptance of that other lover on her behalf; nor had any words more tender been spoken between her and George than those with which the reader has been made acquainted.

'And now,' said George, as soon as the diligence had started out of the yard.

'Well;--and what now?' asked the father.

'I must be off to Colmar next.'

'Not to-day, George.'