AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE
WHAT was the affair of such great importance which Captain Montane had to communicate in private to Mynheer August?
History remains silent on this point, and, until further orders, we are compelled to restrict ourselves to conjectures.
All we can say is, that after a quarter of an hour, the door of the dining-room, which had been hermetically sealed in the interval, was flung open violently, and the captain came out purple with rage and tugging at his moustaches, while Mynheer August van Naarvaersen said to him in his gentlest tones and acompanying the words with several bows, —
“The nose, my dear Monsieur Montane, is a great encumbrance. Saperloot! an ell is all right, or even two ells; but two and a half ells, that is too much of a good thing!”
The captain crossed the drawing-room without looking at or saying a word to Madame August, who was playing piquet with Quenzius, or to Jane, who was talking to Elim.
When he reached the steps, however, he was heard to mutter,—”Ah! Monsieur Narvarsan, I will pay you out for this!”
A moment later the sound of two horses’ feet was heard, and the custom-house officer was seen galloping away.
Not understanding the reason for this abrupt departure, Jane and Elim rose and went to find Mynheer August in his study.
Contrary to his custom, Mynheer August appeared greatly disturbed; he was walking rapidly up and down the room. It was easy to see that he was under the influence of some unusual emotion.
But, on seeing his pretty Jane, his face brightened.
He took her by the hand and kissed her.
“You don’t want to leave your father, my child, do you?”
“Why do you ask me that?” said Jane timidly.
“Because, my dear, a sad thought has crossed my mind. I remember that I have seen in the spring the young swallows, scarcely fledged, that had left their nest. They were caught by schoolboys. Daughters, my poor Jane, are like swallows.”
“I don’t know what you mean, father; but I have never wanted to leave you. I don’t want to leave you now—”
Jane hesitated; then, recovering her courage, she added, —
“Promise to grant me what I am going to ask you.”
“All right, dear, I understand; you want some jewellery, a ring, a necklace. Tell me what it is, you know I refuse you nothing.”
“Oh! father, I have so much jewellery already that I want nothing of that sort. But you won’t be angry, father, will you?”
“I shall be angry if you don’t tell me at once what you want. Is it a dancing-master? You shall have M. Saint-Leger, a pupil of Vestris, who can dance a gavotte on the neck of a bottle.”
“You will keep on joking, father, but I want to talk to you seriously.”
“Seriously! You? Bless me! I am curious to know what serious matter you can have got in your head.”
“But in my heart, father—”
Mynheer August looked at Jane.
“Yes, we — I — Elim—” she stammered.
“Ah I yes, the dear Elim, my poor friend! Do you know,” he continued, addressing the young man, “that we must soon part from you?”
“That is just why I have come to rout you out in your study, my worthy sir. Yes, we must either part for ever, or else for a very short time. I won’t make you a long speech; neither you nor I like roundabout methods. I love your daughter, and Jane loves me: your consent will make us happy. Say ‘Yes,’ and I will leave you; and when the war is over I will come back and say to you, ‘Dear father, give me Jane.’”
“Jane! give you Jane! Jane get married!” cried Mynheer August, taking three steps backward. “Saperloot! that is short and to the point, Elim. Why! there is a regular rage, a sort of epidemic, to-day; everybody wants to marry Jane. I have only just sent Montane away, and now another suitor presents himself with the same story.”
“I hope, my dear Mynheer van Naarvaersen,” said Elim, laughing, “that you don’t class me in quite the same category as Captain Montane.”
“Saperloot! God forbid, my dear fellow!”
“My worthy friend, I should never have ventured to ask you for Jane’s hand if I had not a certain claim to her — first of all, her love for me, and next my desire to make her happy.”
“Father, dear,” said Jane in her turn, throwing herself on the old man’s neck, “I love Elim with all my heart.”
“Come, my little girl, no folly,” interrupted Mynheer August, “what do you know about your heart, I wonder? Children, when they play with their dolls, often say ‘I love,’ without knowing what they mean. I am surprised, however, that you should have given your love to a stranger without saying a word about it to your father or your mother. Just think, you are not sixteen yet! As for you, Elim, I do not blame you, and you have a two-fold motive for falling in love with a pretty girl and a rich heiress.”
Elim gave a start which indicated that August’s words had slung him as deeply as if he had received a wound.
“Van Naarvaersen,” said he, “you can refuse to show me kindness, but you have no right to withhold your respect from me. I have, in Russia, a competent estate and an unblemished reputation, nor have I ever said or done anything which could lead you to think that I am a mere adventurer. I have no need of your wealth, and have enough for both of us. Give me Jane, just as she is. I ask for nothing with her, except her love and your approval.”
“Your thoughts and your words are honourable, young man: I have only known you for three weeks; I will not insult you by any suspicion. I believe your word; but remember that it is very risky to offer your hand when your very life is in such peril. Montane suspects something. It is your own fault, for you were not able to restrain yourself. He will lose no time in denouncing me to his government, who detest me. For my own part, I am thinking of leaving Holland. In whichever direction our sympathies may lie, the fact remains that we are at war with Russia, and God alone knows when this war will end, and even if it should end soon, again God alone knows when you will be able to return. Moreover, consider how dearly it costs a father and mother to part with their child.”
“I will pay you a visit every year, I give you my word. More than that; I am alone in the world, and my own master; I will live with you if you desire it.”
“No, my dear Elim, no,” said the old man, shaking his head. “The Bible says that the wife must forsake all and follow her husband; but it does not say that a husband should forsake his country for his wife. I must admit that I like you very much, Elim, and were you a Dutchman, I would take you as my son-in-law at once, even if you had not a ducat in your purse. But to let my daughter go so far away from me, she so young and you so fickle! — Who knows! perhaps before six months were over, you might be tired of each other.”
“Had we never met in this world, Mynheer August, I should have said, if I had met Jane in the next, ‘That is the woman of my heart—’”
“Anyhow, father, I will say one thing,” added Jane; “and that is, that I will never marry any one but Elim.” All this is very serious, my dear child; you speak from excitement, and excitement is a malady which soon passes off. I am quite ready to believe that your love is enduring, and that neither time nor dangers will get the better of it. We are now about to part. Listen to me, Elim: if you come back in the same frame of mind, and if you find Jane’s feelings unchanged, why then God bless you both! I will never stand in the way of my child’s happiness. During the interval, our knowledge of one another will grow deeper; Jane will grow older, and in so doing, she will become more serious-minded.”
“May we depend on your word, father, and exchange rings?”
“As far as my word goes, you may build a castle upon it; but, as regards exchanging rings, I think nothing can be more unnecessary. You are a sailor and engaged in war, you may be killed or perish in a storm, and then Jane would be a widow without having been a wife.”
“My worthy friend,” said Elim, “I am neither appealing to custom nor asking for an engagement; it is only for a consolation to our hearts. Give me the right to count myself as belonging to your family, give me the right to call Jane my fiancée, to call you my father.”
Elim knelt down before the old man.
“Father,” said Jane, “have pity on us; make your children happy.”
“There!” cried the old man brushing away the tears from his eyes, “haven’t you finished, saperlootl Get up, and be comforted and embrace each other; but don’t insist on more, if you don’t want me to refuse you everything. I must show common-sense for you, since you do not show it for yourselves. To-morrow you part; but you can part saying that the future depends upon yourselves. Now, leave me in peace, and give me time to collect my thoughts.”
To Elim it seemed as though this consent almost amounted to a refusal, but what could he do? He kissed the old man’s hand, while Jane embraced him, half caressingly, half sulkily, and both left the room slowly and sadly.
Meanwhile, our custom-house captain was on his way back to the town, anathematizing everything that he came across. Being but a poor rider, he bumped terribly in the saddle, which movement added no little lo his bad temper. His companion, a soldier of the marines, and a native of Bordeaux like himself, followed him on a lean horse, smoking a short pipe, and remarking, “Confound the brutes!” every lime the captain gave a jolt, with regularity, never varying.
“Both men and horses, Cabaret” — this was the man’s name, a name evidently bestowed on him on account of the frequency with which he visited the establishments consecrated to the god of wine—” both men and horses, water and land, air and sky, everything is disgusting in this land of fogs. Twelve hundred bombs! If it only wanted a sign from me to burst in their dykes, they would precious soon be submerged.”
“I quite agree with you, Captain,” replied Cabaret. And, the captain being once more jolted about a foot from his saddle, —
“Confound the brutes!” said Cabaret, who was scarcely a better horseman than his companion.
“I will tell you my opinion, and a candid opinion too. What are the men here? Clumsy tradesmen. The women? Nothing but cooks. And the girls? Milk-jugs. No education, no manners. A piece of Limburg cheese is more acceptable to them than the love of a gentleman.”
“Ecod! I quite agree with you, Captain — Confound the brutes!”
“So I would rather marry the widow of the devil himself than wed that girl. The fool of a Dutchman was quite taken in; he thought I was asking for his daughter seriously! he did not see that I was laughing at him when I made my proposal.”
“The fact is, Captain, that while I was waiting at the door I was cudgelling my brains to discover what on earth you could be about, to marry such a tulip as that!
“And how do you think the old wretch received my proposal?” said the captain.
“I trust he threw himself on your neck, Captain, with open arms and open purse.”
“Ha I ha I said the captain with a very forced laugh,” just think of it; he refused me!”
“Refused you I you are joking, Captain.”
“No, Cabaret, what I am telling you is gospel truth. He considers himself a great nobleman, because he walks on velvet carpets and has bronze candelabra on his table. A fine ideal Why, if he could cover all Europe with his cloth, and pave the whole Zuyder-Zee with his gold, I wouldn’t take his minx of a daughter. What is more,” he added with a frown as he bit his moustache, “in spite of all his wealth, I can ruin him.”
“I quite agree with you, Captain. If you can do so, you must; but it is not easy to get your teeth into these damned Dutchmen.”
“In the first place, Cabaret, he reads the English newspapers: in the second, he is a Jew: in the third, he is — he is—”
The captain searched vainly to discover what Mynheer August was in the third place: this, however, did not deter Cabaret from replying, —
“I quite agree with you,”
Or from adding, —
“Not lo mention that he has got some men with him — ahem!”
“Some men?” repeated Montane.
“Yes, of whom I am suspicious,” said Cabaret.
“What men?” asked Montane, whose eyes lighted up at the expectation of hearing something which might compromise the cloth manufacturer. “Come, of whom are you speaking?”
“Well, Captain, about three weeks ago I was on patrol with some of my comrades — Confound the brutes!”
“I know what you call going on patrol; the Emperor does not like marauders.”
“That’s good! Each man takes what he can; one man takes a city, another rifles a strong-box.”
“And you’re the man who rifles strong-boxes, are you, booby? Be careful! The man who takes cities gains a crown, whereas he who plunders coffers sometimes meets with nothing but a halter. But this is your business and not mine. What men are you talking about, Cabaret?”
“Well, while I was on patrol, I saw half a dozen men who had gone into this manufacturer’s mill, and such men I regular ruffians: I should not like to have met them on my road — Confound the brutes!’
“And how did you manage to see them?”
“By looking through the window; you see, Captain, I am naturally inquisitive; that is one of my defects.”
“Did you fancy this, or did you really see them?”
“I really saw them; armed to the teeth, Captain, and with beards! — beards to which those of the sappers of the Old Guard are a mere trifle — and the lingo they jabbered! it is ringing in my ears even now.”
“They were probably English runners.”
“The English do not wear beards, Captain.”
“True.”
“Suddenly their leader discovered me and fired at me with a pistol as long as a duck-gun and as big as a blunderbuss.”
“And what did you do, Cabaret?”
“Ecod! I ran away, Captain.”
“And what happened next?”
“Next? Look here; listen carefully to the rest of my story, for it is the most interesting part of it.”
“I am listening.”
“To-day, while you were having your breakfast in the dining-room, I had mine in the kitchen, close to the fire, since in this confounded climate you may roast yourself without getting warm. Presently Mynheer August’s nephew came in to light his cigar. I raised my head and recognized — guess whom I recognized, Captain.”
“Mynheer August’s nephew, I suppose.”
“Yes, indeed, and the leader of my bandits!”
“Cabaret!”
“Devil take me if it is not true, Captain.”
“Ah! my dear Cabaret, if only you were sure of what you were saying!”
“But it is as true as truth itself. As for the other five. I am told that—”
Cabaret lowered his voice.
“They are shut up in the factory. The old man declares they are mechanics — mechanics who coin false money, I should say! No wonder the old scoundrel is so rich.”
“Unquestionably, I am a man of genius, Cabaret!” I quite agree, Captain, but in what respect?”
For having seen at once that this young man was an enemy of France. You are certain of what you say, Cabaret?”
“Morally certain, Captain.”
“Morally or immorally, it’s all one to me, so long as you are certain.”
“I am certain.”
“Very well, then, to-morrow I will denounce the old rascal to the police. Aha! the crime of high treason, August Narvarsan, is no trifle.”
As they were now entering the town, Captain Montane motioned to Cabaret to be silent, an invitation which the son of the Garonne obeyed, contenting himself with occasionally breaking the silence by saying, “Confound the brutes!”