Sister Anne Part 15

"Be careful what you do."

Whereupon Dubourg would reply: "Never fear," with such confidence that the young count finally allowed him to do as he pleased, without remonstrance.

As for Menard, he was more enthusiastic than ever about the baron, to whom he was indebted for such an agreeable life. Frederic often went out alone to walk along the bank of the Rhone; fascinated by the beautiful landscape he discovered, he sometimes did not return to the hotel until night or the following day. Dubourg, like those liars who end by believing in their own false-hoods, had so identified himself with the part he was playing, that he would have struck anyone who expressed a doubt as to his rank; he amused himself, during his friend's absences, by displaying his magnificence in the city. Leaning nonchalantly on Menard's arm, who, with his hat on the back of his head, the better to see and be seen, carried himself very straight, walked with much precision, and strove to a.s.sume an air that was both dignified and affable, when he went out with monsieur le baron--Dubourg walked all over the city, with a huge three-cornered hat, adorned with a black plume and a steel buckle, which he wore after the style of one of Moliere's marquises. To be sure, the rest of his costume hardly corresponded with his hat; but it was no longer fas.h.i.+onable to wear embroidered coats for walking, and Dubourg had confined himself to having silver ta.s.sels attached to his military boots, considering that there was a something Polish about them. He left his coat open, because that gave him a more careless air, and he made frequent use of a huge eyegla.s.s hanging from his neck by a pink ribbon.

His extraordinary garb attracted every eye. Some took him for an Englishman, some for a Russian or a Prussian; but if some curious individual stopped and looked after him with a smile on his face, Dubourg would flash a glance at him that put an end to any inclination to laugh at his expense, and conveyed the impression that the stranger, whoever he might be, was not of a disposition to endure being laughed at.

But it was necessary to be in the neighborhood of our two friends only a very short time to ascertain the ident.i.ty of the gentleman in the plumed hat, who sauntered along so gracefully with his gla.s.s at his eye; for Monsieur Menard talked very loud, especially when he saw that someone was noticing them, and never failed to emphasize the "Baron Potoski," or "Monsieur le Palatine," when he addressed his companion; sometimes, indeed, he went so far as to call him "Monseigneur de Rava et de Sandomir."

They had been in Lyon a week. Frederic had not begun to tire of visiting the beautiful suburbs of the city, but Dubourg was beginning to tire of exhibiting himself in the public streets, arm in arm with Menard. They had been to all the places of resort, all the theatres, and all the cafes; everywhere, Dubourg played the great n.o.bleman, and Menard unwittingly acted as his accomplice; for the poor fellow was entirely honest, and deemed himself highly honored to promenade with his pupil's n.o.ble friend, who was always able to produce an apt quotation and bewildered him by his anecdotes of travel in the four quarters of the globe.

For several days, Dubourg had been urging Frederic to leave Lyon, and he always postponed their departure to the next day, when one morning Dubourg received a letter which put an end to his desire to go away.

This letter was addressed to _Monsieur le Baron Potoski, Seigneur Polonais_. Dubourg read the superscription twice. Who could have written to him, and by that name? He asked the landlady who had brought the letter, and was told that it was a servant in livery, who requested that it be delivered to monsieur le baron in person.

Dubourg hastened to break the seal, and read as follows:

"Monsieur le Baron Potoski is invited to pa.s.s this evening with Madame la Marquise de Versac, who will be delighted to entertain the n.o.ble stranger, at his pleasure, during his stay in Lyon."

The marchioness's address was at the foot of the note, which Dubourg reread several times, and which diffused an odor of musk and amber through his room.

"The devil!" said Dubourg to himself; "an invitation from a marchioness!

This is decidedly flattering! But how does she know me? Parbleu! a man very soon becomes known when he lives with a certain amount of style.

Besides, people must be beginning to talk about me, after I've paraded the streets for a week with Menard, like a white bear."

Dubourg summoned the landlady again, and asked her if she knew Madame la Marquise de Versac.

"The Marquise de Versac? I don't know her personally, but I know her very well by name. It's one of the oldest and richest families in the city, and I know madame la marquise has a magnificent country house on the river, four leagues from Lyon."

Dubourg asked no more questions; he was in raptures. He dismissed the landlady, and began to pace the floor, saying to himself:

"I shall certainly accept madame la marquise's invitation; the acquaintance cannot fail to be exceedingly agreeable to me, and, who knows? perhaps I may find there some baroness or viscountess whose head I can turn; who will marry me, and endow me with estates and chateaux!

Well, what would there be so surprising in that? I am young, not bad-looking; I have a certain style, which must have attracted Madame la Marquise de Versac. But, deuce take me! what if she herself---- Ah! I forgot to ask about that."

Dubourg rang again, and the landlady reappeared.

"I beg your pardon, my dear hostess," he said; "but I have reasons for wis.h.i.+ng to know if Madame la Marquise de Versac is married."

"She is still a widow, I think, monsieur; it's only three years since Monsieur de Versac died, and since then I haven't heard----"

"Very good, very good, madame," said Dubourg, dismissing her again; and he capered about the room, looking at himself in the mirror, and saying:

"She's a widow! there's no doubt about her being a widow still, or the invitation would be in her husband's name. Now, this becomes interesting: a very rich young widow, who has a magnificent country house, and who writes me that she will be charmed to entertain me! for that's what it says. Let's read it again: yes, 'delighted to entertain you.'--It seems to me that that almost amounts to a declaration. You shall entertain me, charming creature! I promise you. By the way, I forgot to ask if she was charming, but it can't be otherwise; at all events, I don't care so much for beauty, now; I am reasonable, I am more attracted by solid advantages. This very evening she shall see the n.o.ble stranger. But, d.a.m.nation! when she finds out that the palatine is only a humble bourgeois! After all, I am an honest Breton, and an honest Breton's as good as any other man; besides, we haven't come to that yet.

I must begin by captivating her. When a woman is fascinated, does she recognize ranks and distances? Love equalizes everything: the lord of the thunder loved simple mortals, and the shepherd Paris had it in his power to lie with the loveliest G.o.ddesses in Olympus. To lie with Madame de Versac, I'll give her all the apples she wants."

Menard made his appearance while Dubourg was strutting about his bedroom, trying to a.s.sume a courtly air. As soon as he caught sight of the tutor, he thrust the letter into his face, crying:

"_Tolle, lege_, my dear Menard."

Menard recoiled, because the odor of musk exhaled by the letter made him ill.

"Doesn't that smell rather like a marchioness, eh?" said Dubourg, inhaling the perfume ecstatically. "Well, Menard, what do you say to this letter?"

"I see nothing surprising in it, monsieur le baron; you must be accustomed to receive similar ones wherever you go."

"True, you are right, Menard; I don't mean to imply that I am surprised; I say that the note is well turned, eh?"

"Very well turned, monsieur le baron."

"It was evidently written by a woman who knows her man, wasn't it?"

"Certainly, monsieur le baron, she must know him."

"But I mean that it doesn't resemble such notes as--as little Delphine had the presumption to write me."

"Who was this Delphine, monsieur le baron?"

"Oh! she was a little countess, on Boulevard du Temple, whose receptions used to be attended by a large number of n.o.blemen of my stamp."

"Monsieur le baron will accept Madame la Marquise de Versac's invitation, of course?"

"Accept it? most a.s.suredly. Let us dine at once, Monsieur Menard, so that I need think of nothing but dressing. Where's Frederic?"

"Admiring some new view, no doubt; he told me that he should not return till evening; I think he intends to leave Lyon to-morrow."

"To-morrow! Oh! we'll see about that; we have all the time there is, and we're very comfortable here, aren't we, Monsieur Menard?"

"Very, monsieur le baron; but, you know, we are traveling for----"

"I know that we shouldn't leave a city till we know it thoroughly, and Frederic can't know this city yet, as he's always in the suburbs. You must persuade him of that, Monsieur Menard."

"I will do my utmost, monsieur le baron."

Dubourg ate little dinner; he was too much engrossed by thoughts of his evening to have any appet.i.te; a child does not eat, when his father has promised to take him to the play. We are big children; the antic.i.p.ation of a new pleasure always produces the same effect on us.

Dubourg deliberated concerning his toilet. If he had had time, he would have ordered a dress-coat; but he must needs be content with one of Frederic's, who was much more slender than he, so that he could never b.u.t.ton it. Should he go in top-boots? That would be rather too informal, his hostess being a marchioness. But he had no trousers; Frederic's were too small for him, and it was not the same with them as with a coat, which one is always at liberty to leave unb.u.t.toned. Menard would lend him a pair, but they would be too large; so he decided to go in boots; he was a foreigner, a Pole, that fact would be his excuse; moreover, his silver ta.s.sels pleased him immensely.

At eight o'clock, Dubourg had been dressed more than an hour, and was pacing the floor of his room, his plumed hat under his arm, practising dignified bows, graceful smiles, and a n.o.ble bearing. He had put the whole contents of his treasury in his pocket, and, having no watch, he thought for a moment of taking his steel loop from his hat and placing it in his fob; but it might be recognized as having been on his hat, so he contented himself with a red ribbon, of which he showed only the end.

The clock struck nine at last, the hour at which one may decently appear in society; a carriage was waiting; he entered it, and gave the driver the address indicated on the note.

The carriage stopped in a lonely street, before a house of poor appearance. Dubourg alighted. A lackey, there being no concierge, stood at the door of the house, apparently posted there as a sentinel; and he lost no time in ushering Dubourg up a dirty staircase, at the foot of which were two lamps that seemed surprised to be there. But Dubourg was going over in his mind the sentence he had prepared for his salutation to the marchioness, and he did not notice the uncleanness of the house.

The servant opened a door on the first floor and entered an anteroom, wherein the eye sought in vain any article of furniture; although it was dimly lighted, the spots of grease on the walls and the soiled, discolored floor could be plainly seen. But the servant led Dubourg through this room at a rapid pace, and, opening another door into the salon, announced in a loud tone:

"Monsieur le Baron Potoski!"

At that name, there was a great commotion in the salon, and a lady rose and rushed forward to meet Dubourg, expressing in the most cordial terms her pleasure in receiving him as her guest.

Dubourg answered whatever came into his head; he walked into the room, saluting to right and left, and dropped into a chair beside the Marquise de Versac, whom he then took occasion to scrutinize. He saw that he had been wise not to indulge his imagination in advance. The mistress of the house was a woman who seemed to be fully forty-five years of age, despite the care with which she had blackened her eyebrows, reddened her lips, and whitened her complexion. She was fas.h.i.+onably dressed, but her gown, which had a long train, seemed to embarra.s.s her; her head was overladen with flowers and ribbons, and a triple necklace of pearls embellished a long, yellow neck, rising pitifully above a pair of fleshless shoulders, which the marchioness was barbarous enough to expose to all eyes, as if they were pleasing to the sight.