The Mesmerist's Victim

The Dauphiness guessed whom her royal relative was looking for.

“Lieut. Coigny,” she said to a young officer behind the King: “Will you please request Mdlle. de Taverney to come here. With the leave of Lady Noailles we will derogate from the regulations to-night.”

In another instant, Andrea came in, trembling as she could not understand this accumulation of favors.

“Find a place there, by the Dauphiness,” said the Dauphin.

She went upon the raised platform for the Royalties, and had what seemed the audacity to sit within one step of Lady Noailles. She received such a withering glance from the latter that the poor girl recoiled at least four feet as though she had been shocked by an electrical discharge.

Louis the King smiled as he saw this.

“Why, here are things running along so smoothly,” thought old Richelieu, “that there will hardly be any need of my helping them.”

The King turned on the marshal who was prepared to meet his look.

“How do you do, duke?” he said; “are you still chiming in with Lady Noailles?”

“Sire, the duchess is good enough still to treat me like a whipping-post.”

“I suppose you have been on the road to Chanteloup?”

“I, Sire? I have all the cheering news I desire from your Majesty to my house.”

“What have I done for you?” asked the King, who had not expected this retort and did not like to be jested with when he had wanted to have his fun.

“Sire, your Majesty has given my nephew Aiguillon the command of the Royal Light-horse. To do that for a nobleman who has many foes, all your Majesty’s energy and statecraft were required – it is almost a movement of Royalty itself against all comers.”

This was at the end of the repast; the King just waited an instant before he rose. Conversation might have embarrassed him: but Richelieu did not want to release his prey. While the King was chatting with the others he worked round so dextrously as to have an opening to say:

“Sire, it is well-known that success emboldens a man.”

“Are you bold, then, duke?”

“I make so bold as to ask for another boon after the many I am thanking your Majesty for: it is for an old comrade of mine, a good old friend, and one of your Majesty’s best servitors. He has a son in the army. He is a young man of merit but wants the purse. An august princess has gratified him with the brevet rank of captain but he has no company to command.”

“Is the princess my daughter?” asked the King.

“Yes, Sire, and the young gentleman is the son and heir of Baron Taverney.”

“My father!” Andrea could not help exclaiming, “Philip? do you beg a company for my brother, Philip?”

Ashamed of her breach of etiquet in speaking without the Royals putting a question, she fell back a step, blushing and wringing her hands. The King turned to admire her blushes and emotion; then he gave the wily courtier a glance teaching him how agreeable the request was by reason of its timeliness.

“Really, the young chevalier is charming and I promised to make his fortune,” struck in the Dauphiness; “How unhappy we princes are! When we have the willingness to oblige, heaven bereaves us of memory or reason. Ought I not have thought that the young gentleman might lack lucre and that the rank was a snare without the soldiers to back it?”

“Why, lady, how could your Highness have known?”

“But I did know,” interrupted the Austrian, recalling the glimpse she had at the poverty-stricken abode of the Taverneys on her passing through Touraine; “and I ought to have thought of that when I gave the rank.”

The King looked at the speaker’s noble and open countenances: then his eyes fell on Richelieu’s, also illumined by a ray of their generosity reflected.

“Duke,” he whispered, “I shall be embroiled with La Dubarry. But,” he proceeded aloud, turning to Andrea, “do you tell me that this will afford you pleasure?”

“I entreat it,” she said, clasping her hands.

“It is granted then,” said Louis. “Duke, select a good company for the young hero. I will provide the expenses if it is not fully raised and all paid for.”

This good action rejoiced all the attendants. It earned the donor a heavenly smile from Andrea, and a grateful one from the same to Richelieu.

Some visitors dropped in, among them the Cardinal Prince Rohan who paid assiduous court to the Dauphiness. But the King had attention and sugary words solely for Richelieu that evening. He took the joyous old marshal with him when he left to go home. Andrea was relieved by the Dauphiness who said:

“You will want to send this good piece of news to your parent in town. You can retire.”

Preceded by a lackey carrying a lantern, the young lady crossed the grounds to her part of the palace. Before her, from bush to bush, bounded what seemed a shadow in the foliage; it was Gilbert whose sparkling eyes watched her every movement. When Andrea was left at the doorway, the footman returned. Thereupon Gilbert went up to his room in the stable lofts, where his window overlooked the girl’s at the corner.

He saw her call a strange waiting-woman who let the curtains fall like an impenetrable veil betwixt the beloved object and the young lover’s burning gaze.

CHAPTER XIII

NICOLE IS VALUED PROPERLY

THE only guest left in the palace was Cardinal Rohan redoubting his gallantry towards the princess, who received him but cooly. As the Dauphin retired he feared it would look bad to remain, so he took leave with all the tokens of the most profound but affectionate respect.

As he was stepping into his coach, a waiting woman slipped up and all but entering the vehicle, she whispered:

“I have got it.”

She put a small packet in the prince’s hand, wrapped in tissue paper, and it made him start.

“Here’s for you, an honorable salary,” he replied, giving her a heavy purse.

Without losing time, the cardinal ordered his coachman to go on to Paris where, at the toll-bar he gave him fresh orders to drive to St. Claude Street. On the way, he had in the darkness felt the paper, and kissed it as a lover would a keepsake.

Soon after he was treading the parlor carpet of the mysterious house where La Dubarry and Duke Richelieu had been appalled by Balsamo’s power. It was he who appeared to welcome the cardinal but after some delay, for which he excused himself as he had not expected visitors so late. It was nearly eleven.

“It is so, and I ask pardon, baron,” said the other; “but you may remember that you told me that you could reveal certain secrets if you had a tress of the hair of the person – ”

“Of whom we spoke,” interrupted the magician guardedly, as he had already caught sight of the little parcel in the simple prelate’s hand. “It is very good if you have brought it.”

“Shall I be able to have it again after the experiment?”

“Unless we have to test it with fire – ”

“Never mind, then, for I can get some more. Can I have the answer to-night – I am so impatient.”

“I will try, my lord. At all events, midnight is the spirit’ hour.”

He took the packet which was a lock of hair and ran up to Lorenza’s room.

“I am going to learn the secret about this dynasty,” he said on the way. “The hidden design of the Supreme Architect.”

Before he opened the secret door he put the medium into the magnetic sleep. Hence she who hated him when in her senses greeted him with a tender embrace. With difficulty he tore himself from her arms but it was imperative – only a child or a virgin can be used to the utmost extent for clairvoyance. It was hard to tell which was more painful to the poor mesmeriser, the abuse of the Italian wife when awake or her caresses when asleep.

Putting the paper in her hand, he asked:

“Can you tell me whose hair this is?”

She laid it on her breast and on her forehead, for it was there she saw though her eyes were open.

“It comes from an illustrious head.”

“Is she going to be happy?”

“So far, no cloud hovers over her.”

“Though she is married?”

“Yes, she is married, but, like me, she is still a virgin – purer than I, for I love my husband.”

“Fatality!” muttered the wizard. “Thank you, Lorenza, I know all I wanted.”

He kissed her, put the hair carefully in his pocket, and cutting a small tress from the Italian’s head, he burnt it in a candle. The ashes, wrapped in the paper, he gave to the cardinal when with him once more. On the way down stairs he awakened Lorenza.

“The oracle says that you may hope, prince,” said Balsamo.

“It said that?” cried the ravished prince.

“Your highness may conclude so, as it said that she does not love her husband.”

“Joy!” said Rohan.

“I had to burn the lock to obtain the verdict by the essence,” explained the necromancer, “but here are the ashes which I scrupulously preserved for each grain is worth a thousand.”

“Thank you, my lord; I shall never be able to repay you.”

“Do not let us speak of that. One piece of advice, though: Do not wash the ashes down with wine as some lovers do; it is a mistaken course for it might make your love incurable and turn the object cold.”

“I shall take care not to do that,” said the prelate; “Farewell, count!”

Twenty minutes after, his carriage crossed that of Duke Richelieu, which it almost upset into one of the pits where they were excavating for a house, much building going on.

“Why, prince!” cried the older peer, with a smile.

“Hush, duke!” replied Rohan, laying a finger on his lips.

And away they were carried in opposite directions.

Richelieu was going to Baron Taverney’s residence in Coq-Heron Street.

The baron was seated before a dying fire, lecturing Nicole, or rather, chucking her under her pretty chin.

“But I am dying of weariness here, master,” she protested with wanton swinging of her hips in protest, “it was promised me that I should go to the palace with my mistress.”

It was at this point that the old rake fondled her, no doubt to cheer her up.

“Here I am between four ugly walls,” she went on wailing her fate: “no society – not enough air to breathe. But at Trianon, I should have people around me, and see luxury – stare and be stared at.”

“Fie, little Nicole!”

“Oh, I am only a woman like the rest of us.”

“No, you are more tempting than the rest,” said the old reprobate. “I only wish I were younger and rich again for your sake.”

At this juncture the door-bell rang and startled the master and maid.

“Run and see who can come at half-past eleven, girl.”

Nicole went out and through the passage by the house on the other street, and through the door which she left open. Richelieu saw a shadow of military aspect flit. This shadow and the face of Nicole, lighted up by her candle, enabled the old noble to read her character at a glance.

“Our old scamp of a Taverney spoke about his daughter, but he never breathed a word about the pretty maid,” he muttered.

“The Duke of Richelieu!” Nicole announced, not without a flutter of the heart, for the lady-killer was notorious.

It produced such a sensation on the baron that he got up and went to the door without believing his ears.

“Do you know what has brought me,” said the duke, giving hat and cane to Nicole to be more at ease in a chair. “Or rather what I have brought my old brother-officer? why, the company you asked the other day for your son. The King has just given it. I refused to act then for I was likely to be the Prime Minister but now that I have declined the post I can ask a favor. Here it is.”

“Such bounty on your part – ”

“Pooh! it is the natural outcome of my duty as a friend. But mark that the King does this more to spite Lady Dubarry than to oblige me. He knows that your son offended the Lady by quarreling with her bully of a brother on the highway. That is why she takes me in off-dudgeon at present.”

“You want me to believe that you serve me to spite the Dubarry woman?”

“Have it so. By the way, you have a daughter as well as a son.”

“Yes.”

“She is sixteen, fair as Venus, and – ”

“You have seen her?”

“At Trianon, where I passed the evening with her – and the King and I talked about her by the hour together. Are you vexed at this?”

“Certainly not; but the King is accused of having – ”

“Bad morals? is that what you were about to say?”

“Lord forbid! I would not speak ill of his Majesty, who has the right to have any kind of morality he likes.”

“What is the meaning of your astonishment, then? do you intend to assert that Mdlle. de Taverney is not an accomplished beauty and that consequently the King has not the right to look at her with an admiring eye?”

Taverney simply shrugged his shoulders and fell into a brown study, watched by Richelieu’s pitilessly prying eye.

“All right! I guess what you would say if you spoke aloud,” continued the marshal, “to wit that the King is habituated to bad company. That he likes the mud, as they say; but would be all the better if he turned from salacious talk, libertine glances, and the common woman’s jests to remark this treasure of grace and charm of every kind – the nobly-born young lady with chaste affections and modest bearing – ”

“You are truly a great man, duke, for you have guessed aright,” answered Taverney.

“It is tantamount to saying that it is high time for our master no longer to force us, nobles, peers and companions of the King of France, to kiss the base and harpy hand of a courtesan of the Dubarry type. Time that he danced to our piping, and that after falling from the Marchioness of Chateauroux, who was fit to be a duchess, to the Pompadour, who was the daughter and wife of a cook, then from her to Dubarry, and from her again to some kitchen wench or dairymaid. It is humiliating to us, baron, who wear coronets round our helmets, to bend our heads to such jades.”

“Ah, here be truths well spoken,” said Taverney, “and it is clear that a void is made at court by these low fashions.”

“With no queen, no ladies; with no ladies, no courtiers; and the commoners are on the throne in Jeanne Vaubernier, now Dubarry, a seamstress at Paris.”

“Granting things stand so, yet – ”

“There is a fine position at present. I tell you, my lord, for a woman of wit to rule France – ”

“Not a doubt of it, but the post is held,” said Taverney with a throbbing heart.

“A woman,” pursued the marshal, “who, without vice, would have the far-reaching views, calculation and boldness of these vixens; one who would so adorn her fortune that she would be spoken of after the monarchy ceased to exist. Has your daughter brightness and sense?”

“Yes.”

“And she is lovely, of the charming and voluptuous turn so pleasing men; with that virginal flower of candor which imposes respect on women themselves. You must take care of your treasure, my old friend.”

“You speak of her with an animation which – ”

“Why, I am madly in love with her and would marry her to-morrow if I could get rid of my seventy-four years. But is she well off? has she the luxury round her which so fair a blossom deserves? Nay, my dear baron, this evening she went to her lodgings, without a maid, or footman, and one of the Dauphin’s henchmen carried a lantern before her – it looked like some girls of middleclass life.”

“How can one help it when not rich?”

“Rich or not, Taverney, you must have a waiting-maid for her.”

“I know she ought to have one,” sighed the old noble.

“Why, what is this sprightly Abigail who opened the door to me,” said Richelieu, “cunning and pretty, on my word!”

“She is her maid but I dared not send her to the palace.”

“I wonder why, when she seems cut out for the part?”

“Have you looked on her face and not noticed the resemblance to – come here, Nicole!”

Nicole came quickly for she was listening at the door. The duke took her by both hands and held her between his knees; but she was not daunted by the great lord’s impertinent gaze and was not put out for an instant.

“By Jove, you are right, there is a resemblance,” he said.

“You know to whom, and how impossible it is to risk the rise of my house on some ugly trick of chance. Is it the thing that this little down-at-the-heel hussy Nicole should look like the highest head in France?”

“Pish!” exclaimed Nicole, tartly, as she disengaged herself to reply more easily to her master, “is it a fact that the hussy does so closely resemble the illustrious lady? Has she the low shoulder, quick eye, round leg and dimpled arm of the hussy? In any case, my lord, if you run me down, it is not because you can have any hope to catch me!” She finished in anger which made her red and consequently splendid in beauty.

The duke caught her again and said as he gave her a look full of caresses and promises:

“Baron, to my idea, Nicole has not her like at court. As for the touch of likeness, we will manage about that. Pretty Nicole has admirable light hair and nose and eyebrows quite imperial – but in a quarter of an hour before a toilet glass these blemishes will disappear, as the baron reckons them such. Nicole, my dear, do you want to go to the palace?”

“Oh, don’t I though!” cried the girl with all her greedy soul in the words.

“You shall go, my pet: and make a fortune there, without doing any harm to the advancement of others. Trot away, little one; the rest does not concern you. A word with you, my lord.”

“I venture to urge you to send some one to wait upon your daughter,” said the duke when alone with his friend, “because she must make a brave show and the King is not afraid of beauty-guards with knowing phizzes. Besides, I know how the wind blows.”

“Let Nicole go to the Trianon, since you think it will please the King,” replied Taverney with his pimp’s smile.

“Write to your daughter that a maid named Nicole is coming. Another than Nicole would not fill the place so well. On my honor, I believe so.”

The baron wrote a note which he handed to Richelieu.

“I will give the instructions to Nicole, who is intelligent.”

The baron smiled.

“So you will trust her with me?”

“Do what you can.”

“You are to come with me, miss, and quick,” said the duke.

Without waiting for the baron’s consent, Nicole got her clothes together in five minutes and as light as if she flew, she darted upon the box beside the ducal driver. The tempter took leave of his friend, who reiterated his thanks for the service rendered Philip of Redcastle. Neither said a word about Andrea; there was no need between them.

CHAPTER XIV

ONE MAN’S MEAT IS ANOTHER’S POISON

AT ten in the morning, Andrea was writing to her father to inform him of the happy news which Richelieu had already communicated to him.

Her room, in the corridor of the chapel, was not grand for a rival princess’s lady of attendance but it was a delightful abode for one who liked repose and solitude.

Andrea had obtained permission to breakfast in her rooms whenever she liked; this was a precious boon as it gave her the mornings to herself. She could read or go out for a saunter in the park, and come home without being annoyed by lord or lackey.

Suddenly a tapping at the door, discreetly given, aroused her attention. She raised her head as the door opened, and uttered a slight cry of astonishment as the radiant face of Nicole appeared from the little antechamber.

“Good morning, mistress! yes, it is I,” said the girl, with a merry courtsey which was not free from apprehension, knowing her lady’s character.

“You – what wind brings you?” replied Andrea, laying down her pen to talk.

“I was forgotten, but I have come. The baron said I was to do so,” said Nicole, bending the black eyebrows which Richelieu’s hair-dye had made; “you would not turn me back, when I only wanted to please my mistress. This is what one gets for loving her betters!” sighed the girl, with an attempt to squeeze a tear out of her fine eyes.

The reproach had enough feeling in it to touch Andrea.

“My child, I am waited on here, and I cannot think of charging the Dauphiness with an additional mouth.”

“Not when it is not so large a one?” questioned the maid, pouting the rosebud mouth in argument, with a winsome smile.

“No matter, your presence here is impossible on account of your likeness – ”

“Why, have you not looked on my face? it has been altered by a fine old nobleman who came to see master and tell him of Master Philip’s getting a company of soldiers from the King. As he saw master was sorrowing about you being alone, he heard the reason and said that nothing was easier than to change light to dark. He took me to his house where his valet turned me out as you behold me.”

“You must love me,” said Andrea smiling, “to come and be a prisoner shut up with me in this palace.”

“The rooms are not lively,” said Mdlle. Legay, after a swift glance round them, “but you will not be always mewed up here.”

“I may not, but you will not go out for the promenade with the princess, the parties, cardplay, and social gatherings; your place would be here to die of weariness.”

“Oh, there must be a peep at something through the windows. If one can see out, others can see me. That is good enough for Nicole – do not fret about me.”

“Nicole, I cannot do it without express order.”

The maid drew a letter from the baron from her tucker which settled the dispute. It was thus conceived:

“MY DEAR ANDREA: I know, and it has been remarked, that you do not hold the station at the Trianon which your birth entitles you to do: you lack a maid and a pair of lackeys as I do twenty thousand a year; but in the same way as I content myself with a thousand, you must shift with one maid – so take Nicole who will do you all the service requisite. She is active, intelligent and devoted; she will quickly pick up the tone and manners of the palace; take care not to stimulate but enchain her good-will to yourself. Keep her and do not fear that you are depriving me. A good friend gives me the advice that his Majesty, who has the kindness to think of us and to remark you on sight, will not let you want for the proper outfit for your appearance at court. Bear this in mind as of the highest importance. YOUR AFFECTIONATE FATHER.”

This threw the reader into painful perplexity. Poverty was pursuing her into her new prosperity, and making that a blemish which she considered merely an annoyance. She was on the point of angrily breaking her pen, and tearing the commenced letter in order to reproach her father with such an outburst of disinterested philosophical denial as Philip would have freely signed. But she seemed to see her father’s ironical smile when he should read this masterpiece and away fled her intention. So she answered with the following record of what was passing:

“FATHER: Nicole has just arrived and I receive her as you desire it; but what you write on the subject, drives me to despair. Am I less ridiculous with this little rustic girl as waiting-woman than alone among these rich ladies waited on hand and foot? Nicole will be miserable at my humiliation for servants smile or frown as their masters are looked upon. She will dislike me. As for the notice of his Majesty, allow me to tell you, father, that the King has too much intelligence to try to make a great lady of one so unfitted, and too much good nature to notice or comment on my poverty – far from it to want to change it into ease which your title and services would legitimatise in everybody’s eyes.”

It must be confessed that this candid innocence and noble pride mated the astuteness and corruption of her tempters.

Andrea spoke no more against Nicole but kept her. She confined herself to her corner so as to remind one of the Persian’s roseleaf floated on the goblet of rosewater brimfull, to prove that a superfluous joy may be added to perfect content.

When Nicole was left to herself she made a survey of the neighborhood. This did not promise much fun. But at an upper window over the stables she caught a glimpse of a man’s face which made her have recourse to a scheme to draw it out. She hid behind the curtains of the window left wide open.

She had to wait some time, but at length appeared a young man’s head; timid hands rested on the window-sill, and a face rose with caution.

Nicole nearly fell back flat on her two shoulders for it was Gilbert, her former companion on the manor of Taverney.

Unfortunately he had seen her, and he disappeared. He would rather have seen old Nick himself.