Pride: One of the Seven Cardinal Sins

"You can not imagine how deeply I rejoice in advance at the touching harmony which is henceforth to exist between us, my dear baroness. Well, after all, let us admit that this little orgy of sincerity has been of immense advantage to us. We are full of confidence in each other now, are we not, my dear baroness?"

"Unquestionably, and mutual confidence, alas, is so rare!" exclaimed the baroness, with a sigh.

"But all the more precious when it is found, eh, my dear baroness?"

"Unquestionably, my dear marquis. Au revoir, then, if you must go. I shall hope to see you again very soon."

"I trust so," responded M. de Maillefort, as he left the room.

"Detestable man!" exclaimed Madame de la Rochaiguë, springing from the sofa, and beginning to pace the room excitedly, while she gave vent to her long-repressed feelings. "Every word that accursed hunchback uttered contained either a sarcasm or a threat," she added, venomously.

"He's a contemptible scoundrel! There isn't the slightest doubt of it," exclaimed the baron, suddenly drawing aside the portières at one of the doors opening into the drawing-room.

CHAPTER XXIII

AN INVOLUNTARY AVERSION

On seeing M. de la Rochaiguë thus reappear near the sofa where she had sat during her conversation with M. de Maillefort, the baroness exclaimed:

"What, monsieur, were you there?"

"Certainly, for suspecting that your interview with M. de Maillefort would prove exceedingly interesting as soon as you two were left alone together, I slipped into the little salon, and have been listening there behind the portières close to you."

"You heard what that detestable marquis said, then?"

"Yes, madame, and I also noticed that you were so weak as to ask him to come again, instead of giving him plainly to understand that his presence here was no longer desired. You had a fine opportunity to do it, and you should have availed yourself of it."

"But, monsieur, is not the Marquis de Maillefort as dangerous in one place as another? He made me understand that very plainly; besides, one can not treat a man of M. de Maillefort's lineage and importance in a rude manner."

"What do you suppose would happen if you did?"

"This: the marquis would undoubtedly demand satisfaction of you for such an insult. Are you not aware that he has fought a number of duels, all of which resulted disastrously for his opponents, and have you not heard that only a few days ago he forced M. de Mornand to fight merely on account of an ill-timed jest in which the latter indulged?"

"But I, madame, am not as obliging and simple as M. de Mornand. I would not have fought."

"Then, M. de Maillefort would have made your life a burden by his sneers and ridicule, until you would have been compelled to hide yourself from very shame."

"But are there no laws to protect a man from such a monster? Ah, if I were in the Chamber of Peers such scandalous proceedings should not go unpunished! An honest man should not be at the mercy of the first cutthroat that happens to come along!" exclaimed the indignant baron. "But in heaven's name, what is the matter with him, – what does this damned marquis want, anyhow?"

"You must have very little penetration, monsieur, for he certainly talked with almost brutal frankness, it seemed to me. Others would have resorted to circumlocution and even falsehood, but M. de Maillefort? – no, 'You intend to marry off Mlle. de Beaumesnil,' he says. 'I intend to see in what manner and to whom you marry her, and if your choice does not please me I shall interfere.' This is what he had the audacity to say to me, and he is in a position to carry out his threat."

"Fortunately, Ernestine seems to have taken an intense dislike to this horrid hunchback, and Helena must tell her that he was the mortal enemy of the countess."

"What good will that do? Suppose we should find a party that suited us and Ernestine, isn't the marquis, by his sneers and sarcasms, quite capable of inspiring the innocent girl with an aversion for the very person we want her to marry? And it is not only here, in this house, that he can play us this shameful trick, – and many others that he is capable of concocting, – but he can do it anywhere and everywhere he meets Ernestine, for we cannot hide her. We shall be obliged to take her out into society."

"Is it this that you fear most? I should be of the same opinion, perhaps, if – "

"Do you suppose I know what I fear? I would a hundred times rather have some real danger to contend with, no matter how threatening it might be, for then I should at least know what the danger was, and perhaps contrive to escape it, while now the marquis will keep us in a state of perplexity that may cause us to commit a thousand blunders, and hamper us in every way. Consequently there is nothing for us to do but look the situation straight in the face and say to ourselves: 'Here is a man of wonderful discernment and diabolical cleverness, who sees, or will endeavour to see and know, all that we do, and who, unfortunately, has a thousand means of attaining his ends, while we have no means whatever of escaping his surveillance.'"

"I am more and more convinced that the opinion I expressed a short time ago is a just and correct one," said the baron, complacently.

"What opinion?"

"That the marquis is an abominable scoundrel."

"Good evening, monsieur," said Madame de la Rochaiguë, wrathfully, starting towards the door.

"What, you are going like that when we are in such desperate straits, and without coming to any decision!"

"Decision about what?"

"Why, about what we shall do in the matter."

"I know one thing!" exclaimed Madame de la Rochaiguë, completely beside herself, and stamping her foot angrily, "this abominable hunchback has demoralised me completely, and you – you finish by utterly stupefying me with your asinine remarks."

And Madame de la Rochaiguë flounced out of the room, slamming the door violently in the baron's very face.

During the conversation between Madame de la Rochaiguë and M. de Maillefort, Helena had taken Mlle. de Beaumesnil back to her own room. As she was about to leave the young girl she said:

"Sleep well, my dear Ernestine, and pray to the Saviour that he will not allow the face of that frightful M. de Maillefort to trouble your dreams."

"I really don't know why it is, mademoiselle, but he almost terrifies me."

"The feeling is very natural," replied the devotee, gently; "more natural than you suppose, for if you knew – "

As Helena paused, the young girl said:

"You did not finish, mademoiselle."

"There are some things which it pains one to say against one's neighbour, even though he may deserve it," remarked the devotee, with a saintly air. "This M. de Maillefort – "

"Well, mademoiselle?"

"I am afraid of paining you, my dear Ernestine – "

"Go on, I beg of you, mademoiselle."

"Ah, well, as you insist, I am compelled to tell you that this Marquis de Maillefort has always been one of your mother's bitterest enemies."

"My mother's?" cried Mlle. de Beaumesnil, wonderingly.

Then she added, with touching naïveté:

"Some one must have deceived you, mademoiselle. My mother could not have had any enemies."

In a tone of tender commiseration, Helena replied, shaking her head:

"My dear child, such artlessness does your heart credit; but, alas! the best and most inoffensive people are exposed to the animosity of the wicked. Have not the gentle lambs ravening wolves for enemies?"

"But how had my mother ever wronged M. de Maillefort, mademoiselle?" asked Ernestine, with tears in her eyes.

"Why, in no way. Just Heaven! one might as well say that an innocent dove would attack a tiger."

"Then what was the cause of M. de Maillefort's animosity?"

"Alas! my poor child, I cannot tell you that. It would be too revolting – too horrible," answered Helena, sighing heavily.

"Then I have good cause to loathe this man, and yet I blamed myself for yielding to my involuntary aversion."

"Ah, my dearest child, may you never have a less justifiable aversion," said the devotee, sanctimoniously, lifting her eyes heavenward.

Then she added:

"I must leave you, now, my dear Ernestine. Sleep sweetly. To-morrow morning, at nine o'clock, I will come for you to go to church."

"Good-bye until to-morrow, mademoiselle; but, alas! you leave me with sad thoughts, – my mother had an enemy."

"It is best to know the real character of the wicked, my dear Ernestine, for then one can at least guard against their evil doing. And now good-bye until to-morrow morning."

"Good night, mademoiselle."

So Mlle. de la Rochaiguë departed, proud of the perfidious cunning with which she had aroused a cruel distrust of M. de Maillefort in Mlle. de Beaumesnil's heart.

Ernestine left alone, rang for her governess, who also acted as her personal attendant.

Madame Laîné entered.

She was about forty years of age, with a somewhat insipid face, and a pleasant, though rather obsequious manner, in which there was a touch of servility that made it very different from the devotion of a faithful nurse, which is always instinct with the dignity of disinterested affection.

"Does mademoiselle wish to retire?" asked Madame Laîné.

"No, my good Laîné, not yet. Bring me my writing-desk, please."

"Yes, mademoiselle."

The desk having been brought from Ernestine's chamber, her governess said:

"There is something I wish to tell mademoiselle."

"What is it?"

"Madame has hired two other maids for mademoiselle, and – "

"I have told you that I require no other personal attendants than you and Thérèse."

"I know it, mademoiselle, and I said as much to madame, but she thinks you are not sufficiently well served."

"You satisfy me perfectly."

"But madame says these young women are to stay in case you should need them, and this suits all the better as madame dismissed her own maid recently, and these women are to attend her in the meantime."

"That is all very well," responded Ernestine, indifferently.

"Mademoiselle desires nothing?"

"No, I thank you."

"Does mademoiselle find herself comfortable here?"

"Very comfortable."

"The apartments are certainly superb, but there is nothing too good for mademoiselle. Every one says so."

"My good Laîné, you may put out what I shall require for the night," said Ernestine, without paying any attention to the governess's remark. "I can undress without your assistance, but I would like you to wake me a little before eight to-morrow morning."

"Yes, mademoiselle."

Madame Laîné turned as if to leave the room, but as Ernestine opened her desk to write, the governess paused, and said:

"I have a favour to ask of mademoiselle."

"What is it?"

"I should be very grateful to mademoiselle if she would have the goodness to spare me a couple of hours to-morrow, or the day after, to go and see a relative of mine, Madame Herbaut, who lives in the Batignolles."

"Very well, go to-morrow morning, while I am at church."

"I thank mademoiselle for her kindness."

"Good-night, my good Laîné," said Ernestine, thus dismissing her governess, who seemed inclined to continue the conversation.

This interview gives a pretty correct idea of the relations that existed between Mlle. de Beaumesnil and Madame Laîné.

The latter had often endeavoured to establish herself on a more familiar footing with her young mistress, but at the very first effort in this direction Mlle. de Beaumesnil always put an end to the conversation, not haughtily nor curtly, but by giving some order in a kindly way.

After Madame Laîné's departure, Ernestine remained lost in thought for some time; then, seating herself at the table, on which her desk had been placed, she opened it and took out a small book bound in Russia leather, the first leaves of which were already filled.

The history of this book was simple but touching.

On her departure for Italy, Ernestine had promised her mother to write every day a sort of diary of her journey. This promise the girl had kept until the sorrowful days that immediately followed her father's fatal accident, and the even more terrible days that followed the news of the Comtesse de Beaumesnil's death; and now that she had rallied a little from these crushing blows, Ernestine found a sort of pious consolation in continuing to write to her mother every day, keeping up the both pleasant and cruel illusion by continuing these confidential revelations.

The first part of this book contained copies of the letters Ernestine had written to her mother while that lady was living.

The second part, separated from the first by a black cross, contained the letters which the poor child had, alas! had no need to recopy.

Mlle. de Beaumesnil seated herself at the table, and, after she had wiped away the tears which the sight of this book always evoked, she wrote as follows:

"I have not written to you, my darling mamma, since my arrival at M. de la Rochaiguë's house, because I wished to analyse my first impressions carefully.

"Besides, you know how peculiar I am, and how, whenever I go to a strange place now, I find myself almost dazed for a day or two by the change. It seems as if I must have time to become accustomed to the new objects by which I am surrounded, to recover my mental faculties.

"The apartments set aside for my exclusive use are so magnificent and so spacious that I felt lost in them yesterday, but to-day I am becoming more accustomed to them.

"Madame de la Rochaiguë and her husband and sister have welcomed me as if I were their own child. They lavish every attention and kindness upon me, and if one could have any feeling save gratitude, for such a cordial reception, I should feel amazed that persons so much older than I am, should treat me with so much deference.

"M. de la Rochaiguë, my guardian, is kindness itself. His wife, who quite spoils me by her tenderness, is of a very gay and lively disposition. Mlle. Helena, her sister-in-law, is the gentlest and most saintly person imaginable.

"You see, my dearest mother, that you need feel no anxiety concerning your poor Ernestine's lot. Surrounded by such devoted friends, she is as happy as she can be, now.

"My chief desire is to become better acquainted with M. de la Rochaiguë and his family, for then they will doubtless treat me with less ceremony, and cease to pay me compliments which embarrass me greatly, but which they probably feel obliged to pay me in order to make me feel at ease.

"They are so kind that each person in turn seems to be racking his or her brain for the pleasantest and most complimentary thing they can say to me. By and by, I hope that they will see they do not need to flatter me to gain my affection. One would almost suppose from their manner that they were under the greatest obligations to me for being allowed to receive me into their household. This does not surprise me much, however, my dearest mother, for how often you have told me that refined people always seem grateful for the services they are able to render others.

"I have had some very painful moments to-day, – not by any fault of my guardian or his family, however.

"This morning, a gentleman (my notary, as I learned afterwards) was introduced to me by my guardian, who said:

"'My dear ward, I think it would be well for you to know the precise amount of your fortune, and this gentleman will now tell you.'

"Whereupon, the notary, opening a book he had brought with him, showed me the last page all covered with figures, and said:

"'Mademoiselle, from the exact' – he used a word here that I have forgotten – 'your yearly income amounts to the sum of three million one hundred and twenty thousand francs, which gives you nearly eight thousand francs a day, so you are the richest heiress in France.'

"This, my poor dear mother, reminded me again of what, alas! I scarcely ever forget, – that I was an orphan, and alone in the world; and in spite of all my efforts to control my feelings, I wept bitterly."

Ernestine was obliged to stop writing. Her tears had burst forth afresh, for to this tender-hearted, artless child, this rich inheritance meant the loss of her mother and of her father.

Becoming calmer after a few moments, she resumed her pen, and continued:

"It is difficult for me to explain it, but on learning that I had eight thousand francs a day, as the notary said, I felt a great awe, not unmixed with fear.

"'So much money – just for myself! why is it?' I thought.

"It seemed to me unjust.

"What had I done to be so rich?

"And then those words which had made me weep, 'You are the richest heiress in France,' almost terrified me.

"Yes; I know not how to explain it, but the knowledge that I possessed this immense fortune made me feel strangely uneasy. It seemed to me that I must feel as people feel who have a great treasure, and who tremble at the thought of the dangers they will incur if any one tries to rob them of it.

"And yet, no; this comparison is not a just one, for I never cared very much for the money you and my father gave me each month to gratify my fancies.

"In fact, I seem unable to analyse my feelings when I think of my wealth, as they call it. It is strange and inexplicable, but perhaps I shall feel differently by and by.

"In the meantime, I am surrounded by the kindest and most devoted of relatives. What can I have to fear? It is pure childishness on my part, undoubtedly. But to whom can I tell everything, if not to you? M. de la Rochaiguë and the other members of his household are wonderfully kind to me, but I shall never make confidants of them. You know I have always been very reserved to every one but you and my father; and I often reproach myself for not being more familiar with my good Laîné, who has been with me several years. But anything like familiarity is impossible to me, though I am far from being proud."

Then alluding to the aversion she felt for M. de Maillefort, in consequence of Mlle. Helena's calumnies, Ernestine added:

"I was cruelly hurt this evening, but it was such a disgraceful thing that, out of respect to you, my dear mother, I will not write it, nor do I really believe that I should have the courage.

"Good night, my darling mamma. To-morrow and the day following, I am going to nine o'clock mass with Mlle. de la Rochaiguë. She is so good and kind that I could not refuse. But my most fervent prayers, my dear mother, are those I offer up in solitude. To-morrow morning and other mornings, in the midst of the careless crowd, I shall pray for you, but it is when I am alone, as now, that my every thought and my very soul lifts itself to thee, and that I pray to thee as one prays to God – my beloved and sainted mother!"

After having replaced the book in the writing-desk, the key of which she wore always suspended around her neck, the orphan sought her couch, and slept much more calmly and peacefully now she had made these artless confessions to an – alas! – now immortal mother.

CHAPTER XXIV

AN UNWELCOME VISITOR

On the morning following the day on which M. de Maillefort had been introduced to Mlle. de Beaumesnil for the first time, Commander Bernard was lying stretched out in the comfortable armchair which had been a present from Olivier.

It was a beautiful summer morning, and the old sailor gazed out sadly through the window on the parched flower beds, now full of weeds, for a month before two of the veteran's old wounds had reopened, keeping him a prisoner in his armchair, and preventing him from working in his beloved garden.

The housekeeper was seated near the commander, busy with some sewing, but for several minutes she must have been indulging in her usual recriminations against "Bû-û-onaparte," for she was now saying to the veteran, in tones of bitter indignation:

"Yes, monsieur, raw, raw; I tell you he ate it raw!"

The veteran, when his acute suffering abated a little, could not help laughing at the housekeeper's absurd stories, so he said:

"What was it that this diabolical Corsican ogre ate raw, Mother Barbançon?"

"His beef, monsieur! Yes, the night before the battle he ate his meat raw! And do you know why?"

"No," answered the veteran, turning himself with difficulty in his armchair; "I can not imagine, I am sure."

"The wretch did it to render himself more ferocious, so he would have the courage to see his soldiers exterminated by the enemy, – above all, the conscripts," added the indignant housekeeper. "His sole object in life was to provide food for cannon, as he said, and so to depopulate France by conscriptions that there would not be a single Frenchman left. That was his diabolical scheme!"

Commander Bernard replied to this tirade by another loud burst of laughter.

"Let me ask just this one question," he said. "If Bonaparte desired that there shouldn't be another Frenchman left in France, who the devil would he have had to reign over, then?"

"Why, negroes, of course," snapped the housekeeper, shrugging her shoulders impatiently, and acting quite as if an absurdly easy question had been put to her.

It was such a ridiculous answer, and so entirely unexpected, that a moment of positive stupefaction preceded a fresh outburst of hilarity on the part of the commander, who, as soon as he could control his mirth a little, inquired:

"Negroes, what negroes?"

"Why, those American negroes with whom he was always plotting, and who, while he was on his rock, began a tunnel which, starting at Champ-d'Asile, and passing under St. Helena, was intended to transport to the capital of the empire other negroes, friends of the American negroes, so Bû-û-onaparte, in company with his odious Roustan, could return to ravage all France."

"Really, Mother Barbançon," exclaimed the veteran, admiringly, "I never knew your imagination to soar to such sublime heights before."

"I don't see that there is anything to laugh at, monsieur. Would you like to have conclusive proof that the monster always intended to replace the French by negroes?"

"I should indeed, Mother Barbançon," exclaimed the veteran, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Come, let us have the proof."

"Ah, well, monsieur, hasn't everybody said for years that your Bû-û-onaparte treated the French like so many negroes?"

"Bravo, Mother Barbançon, bravo!"

"Well, isn't that proof enough that he would like to have had all negroes instead of Frenchmen under his thumb?"

"Thanks, Mother Barbançon!" exclaimed the poor commander, fairly writhing with merriment. "But this is too much, really too much!"

Two loud and imperious peals of the bell made the housekeeper spring from her chair and hurry out of the room, exclaiming:

"There is some one who rings in a lordly way, I must say."

And closing the door of the veteran's chamber behind her, Madame Barbançon flew to admit the visitor.

This proved to be a stout man about fifty years of age, wearing the uniform of a second lieutenant in the National Guard, – a uniform that gaped in a ridiculous manner behind, and disclosed to view in front an enormous stomach, over which dangled a big gold chain. This personage, who wore an immense bearskin hat that nearly covered his eyes, had a pompous and extremely self-important air.

On beholding him, Madame Barbançon knit her brows, and, evidently not very deeply impressed by the dignity of this citizen soldier, asked, in a decidedly sharp tone:

"What, you here again?"

"It would be very strange if an owner" – the word owner was uttered with the majestic air of a ruling sovereign – "if an owner could not come into his own house, when – "

"You are not in your own house, for you have rented it to the commander."

"This is the seventeenth of the month, and my porter has sent me a printed notice that my rent has not been paid, so I – "

"We all know that. This is the third time in the last two days that you have been here to dun us. Do you expect us to give you our last cent for the rent? We'll pay you when we can, and that is all there is about it."

"When you can? A house owner is not to be paid in promises."

"House owner! You can boast of being a house owner only because for the last twenty years you've been putting pepper in your brandy and chicory in your coffee, as well as dipping your candles in boiling water to melt off the tallow without anybody's discovering it, and with the proceeds of this cheating you've perhaps bought a few houses. I don't see anything to be so proud of in that, do you?"