The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Iii Part 32

Clemence entered M. d'Harville's apartment.

"Good morrow, dear brother Albert," she said, in a tone full of sweetness. Then, observing the smiling expression of her husband's countenance, "But what is it, my dear, that gives you such a smiling air?"

"It was because, when you entered, my dear sister, I was thinking of you, and, moreover, I was under the influence of an excellent resolution."

"That does not surprise me."

"What took place yesterday,--your extreme generosity, the prince's n.o.ble conduct,--has given me much food for reflection, and I am converted,--entirely converted to your ideas."

"Indeed! That is a happy change!" exclaimed Madame d'Harville. "Ah! I was sure that, when I appealed to your heart, to your reason, you would understand me; and now I have no doubt about the future."

"Nor I either, Clemence, I a.s.sure you. Yes, since my resolution last night, the future, which seemed so vague and sombre, is singularly brightened and simplified."

"Nothing can be more natural, my dear. Now we both go towards the same end, like a brother and sister, mutually dependent on each other; at the end of our career we shall find each other what we are to-day. The feeling will be unalterable. In a word, I wish you to be happy; and you shall be, for I have resolved it there," said Clemence, placing her finger on her forehead. Then she added, with charming emphasis, lowering her hand to her heart, "No, I mistake, it is here. That is the good thought that will watch over you incessantly, and myself also; and you shall see, my brother, in what the obstinacy of a devoted heart consists."

"Dear Clemence!" said M. d'Harville with repressed emotion; then, after a moment's silence, he continued, in a gay tone:

"I sent to beg you to come here before you went out, to tell you that I could not take tea with you this morning. I have some friends to breakfast,--a sort of impromptu,--to celebrate the fortunate result of a duel of poor Lucenay, who, by the way, was only very slightly wounded by his adversary."

Madame d'Harville blushed when she reflected on the origin of this duel,--an absurd remark addressed in her presence by the Duke de Lucenay to M. Charles Robert. It reminded her of an _erreur_ of which she was ashamed, and, to escape from the pain she felt, she said to her husband:

"What a singular chance! M. de Lucenay is coming to breakfast with you, and I am going, perhaps rather indiscreetly, to invite myself this morning to Madame de Lucenay's; for I have a great deal to say to her about my two unknowns. From her, it is my intention to go to the prison of St. Lazare with Madame de Blinval, for you do not know all my projects; at this time I am intriguing to get admittance into the workroom of the young prisoner-girls."

"You are really insatiable," said M. d'Harville, with a smile; and then he added, with a painful emotion, which, despite his efforts, betrayed itself a little, "Then I shall see you no more to-day."

"Does it annoy you that I should go out so early?" asked Clemence, quickly, astonished at the tone of his voice. "If you wish it, I can put off my visit to Madame de Lucenay."

The Marquis had nearly betrayed himself, but continued, in an affectionate tone:

"Yes, my dear little sister, I am as annoyed to see you go out, as I shall be impatient to see you return, and these are faults of which I shall never be corrected."

"And you are quite right, dear; for if you did I should be very, very sorry."

The sound of a bell, announcing a visit, was now heard.

"Here is one of your guests, no doubt," said Madame d'Harville. "I leave you; but, by the way, what are you going to do in the evening? If you have no better engagement, I require you to accompany me to the Italian Opera; perhaps now you will like the music better."

"I am at your orders with the utmost pleasure."

"Are you going out by and by? Shall I see you before dinner?"

"I shall not go out; you will find me here."

"Well, then, on my return, I shall come and inquire if your bachelors'

breakfast has been amusing."

"Adieu, Clemence!"

"Adieu, dear! We shall soon meet again. I leave you a clear house, and wish you may be as merry as possible. Be very gay and lively, mind."

Having cordially shaken her husband's hand, Clemence went out of one door as M. de Lucenay entered by another.

"She wished me to be as merry as possible, and bade me be gay! In the word adieu, in that last cry of my soul in its agony, in that word of complete and eternal separation, she has understood that we should meet again soon,--this evening,--and leaves me tranquilly, and with a smile!

It does honour to my dissimulation. By heaven, I did not think that I was so good an actor! But here is Lucenay."

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BACHELORS' BREAKFAST.

M. de Lucenay came into the room.

The duke's wound had been so slight, that he did not even carry his arm in a sling. His countenance was, as usual, mirthful, yet proud; his motion perpetual; and his restlessness, as usual, unconquerable. In spite of his awkwardness, his ill-timed pleasantries, and in spite of his immense nose, which gave his face a grotesque and odd character, M.

de Lucenay was not, as we have already said, a vulgar person, thanks to a kind of natural dignity and bold impertinence, which never forsook him.

"How indifferent you must think me to what concerns you, my dear Henry!"

said M. d'Harville, extending his hand to M. de Lucenay; "but it was only this morning that I heard of your unfortunate adventure."

"Unfortunate! Pooh--pooh, marquis! I had my money's worth, as they say.

I really never laughed so in my life. The worthy M. Robert was so religiously determined to maintain that he never had a phlegmy cough, in all his life,--but you do not know! This was the cause of the duel. The other evening at the ---- emba.s.sy, I asked him, before your wife and the Countess Macgregor, how his phlegmy cough was? _Inde irae!_ for, between ourselves, he had nothing of the kind; but it was all the same, and, you may suppose, to have such a thing alluded to before pretty women was very provoking."

"How foolish! Yet it is so like you! But who is this M. Robert?"

"_Ma foi!_ I have not the slightest idea in the world. He is a person whom I met at the Spas; he pa.s.sed by us in the winter garden at the emba.s.sy, and I called to him to play off this foolish jest, to which he gallantly replied the next day by giving me a touch with his sword-point. This is the history of our acquaintance. But let us speak no more of such follies. I have come to ask you for a cup of tea."

So saying, M. de Lucenay flung himself down full length on the sofa; after which, poking the point of his cane between the wall and the frame of a picture hanging over his head, he began to move it about, and try and balance the frame.

"I expected you, my dear Henry; and I have got up a surprise for you,"

said M. d'Harville.

"Ah, bah! and in what way?" exclaimed M. de Lucenay, giving to the picture a very doubtful kind of balance.

"You will unquestionably unhook that picture, and let it down on your head."

"_Pardieu!_ I believe you are right. What an eagle's eye you have! But, tell me, what is this surprise of yours?"

"I have invited some of our friends to come and breakfast with us!"

"Really! Well, that is capital! Bravo, marquis,--bravissimo!

ultra-bravissimo!" exclaimed M. de Lucenay, in a l.u.s.ty voice, and beating the sofa cushions with his cane with all his might. "And who shall we have,--Saint-Remy? No, I recollect; he has been in the country for some days. What the devil can he be pattering about in the country in the mid-winter for?"

"Are you sure he is not in Paris?"

"Quite sure; for I wrote to him to go out with me, and learned he was absent; and so I fell back upon Lord Douglas, and Sezannes."