Zamore’s Commission.
“MADAME,” SAID the favorite, “pray let me hear your wishes — I am all attention.”
“Permit me, sister,” said Jean, who continued standing, “to disabuse your mind of the idea that the Countess de Bearn comes with a petition — not at all — the chancellor has simply asked her to perform a little office for him.”
The old lady turned a grateful look on the viscount, and held out to the countess the patent signed by the vice-chancellor declaring Luciennes a royal castle, and Zamore its governor.
“Then it is I who, am the person obliged,” said the countess, glancing at the document; “if I could only be so fortunate, madame, as to be of any service to you in return.”
“Oh, that you can readily be!” exclaimed the old lady, with a frankness which enchanted the brother and sister.
“Pray let me know how, madame?”
“You were kind enough to say that my name is not quite unknown to you, madame.”
“Unknown? — a Bearn!”
“Then you have perhaps heard of a lawsuit which threatens my whole property.”
“Oh, yes! — a suit between you and the family of the Saluces?”
“Alas, madame, yes!”
“I know all about it, madame, I heard his majesty the other evening speak of it to my cousin the chancellor.”
“His majesty speak of my lawsuit?”
“Yes, madame.”
“And in what terms, pray?”
“Alas! my dear madame!” — and Madame Dubarry shook her head.
“As lost, as lost — was it not?” exclaimed the old lady, with anguish.
“If I must speak the truth, madame, it was.”
“His majesty said so?”
“ His majesty had too much prudence and delicacy to pronounce sentence decidedly, but he seemed to look upon the adverse party as already in possession of the estate.”
“Oh, heavens! madame, if his majesty were but rightly informed on the subject — if he knew that all this was about a bond really discharged! yes, madame, the two hundred thousand francs have been paid. I have not a receipt for the money, certainly; but I have a moral certainty that it was paid. I could, if I was allowed to plead in person before the parliament, demonstrate it by inference.”
“By inference?” exclaimed Madame Dubarry, who did not understand one word of what she said, but who appeared to pay the most serious attention.
“Yes, madame, by inference”
“The proof by inference is admissible,” said Jean.
“Do you think so, sir?” asked the old lady.
“Yes, I think it is,” replied the viscount, with profound gravity.
“Well, then, by inference I could prove that the bond for two hundred thousand francs with the interest accumulated, amounting to a total of about one million — I could prove that this bond, bearing date 1406, was discharged by Guy Gaston, the fourth Count of Bearn, on his deathbed in 1417; for there it is written by his own hand in his will—’Being on my deathbed, and owing nothing to any man, and ready to appear before God—’
“Well?” said Madame Dubarry.
“Well, madame, if he owed nothing to any man, he owed nothing to the family of the Saluces, otherwise he would have said—’owing two hundred thousand francs,’ instead of saying, ‘owing nothing to any man.’”
“Most undoubtedly he would have said so,” exclaimed Jean. “But have you no other proof?” asked the favorite.
“Than his word? — none, madame; but he was called Gaston the Irreproachable.”
“And your opponents have the bond?”
“Yes; they have, and that is just what makes the affair more intricate.”
She should have said, “That is just what clears up the matter;” but she looked at things in her own point of view.
“So your conviction is, madame, that the bond was discharged,” said Jean.
“Yes, sir, that is my decided conviction,” exclaimed Madame de Bearn, warmly.
“Do you know,” said the countess, turning to her brother, as if deeply penetrated by that conviction, “the proof by inference, as the Countess de Bearn calls it, changes the face of things wonderfully.”
“Oh, wonderfully!” returned Jean.
“And very unpleasantly for my opponents,” continued the countess; “the terms of Gaston IV.’s will are most positive—’owing nothing to any man—’
“It is not only clear, it is logical,” said Jean; “he owed nothing to any man, therefore, of course he had paid what he owed.”
“Therefore he had paid what he owed,” repeated the Countess Dubarry.
“Oh, madame, why are you not my judge?” ejaculated the old lady.
“Formerly.” said the viscount, “we should not have had recourse to the tribunals to settle an affair of that kind — the judgment of Heaven would have been enough. For my part, I am so convinced of the goodness of your cause, that, did the old custom still exist, I should willingly offer myself for your champion.”
“Oh, sir!”
“Yes, I should act as did my grandfather, Dubarry Moore, who had the honor of being connected with the royal family of the Stuarts, when he fought in the lists for the beautiful Edith of Scarborough, and made his adversary confess that he lied in his throat. But unhappily,” continued the viscount, with a sigh of disdain for the degeneracy of the age, “we live not in those glorious times, and gentlemen, when they claim their rights, must submit their causes to the judgment of a set of pettifoggers who have not the sense to understand a phrase so clear as—’owing nothing to any man.’”
“But, brother,” said the countess, “it is three hundred years since those words were written, so you must allow that the gentlemen of the long robe may well pause a little before deciding on them.”
“Oh, no matter — no matter — I am certain that if his majesty heard the Countess de Bearn state her case herself as she has done to us—”
“I should convince his majesty — should I not, sir?”
“I am certain of it.”
“Yes; but how am I to obtain an audience of his majesty?”
“You must come and visit me at Luciennes; and as his majesty does me the honor of coming sometimes to see me then —
“My dear,” interrupted the viscount, “that is all very well, but it depends on chance.”
“Viscount,” replied the favorite, with a sweet smile, “you know that I depend a good deal on chance, and I have no reason to complain.”
“Yes, but the Countess de Bearn might go to Luciennes for a week or a fortnight, and yet not meet his majesty.”
“That is true.”
“In the meantime, her cause is to come on on Monday or Tuesday.”
“On Tuesday, sir.”
“And this is Friday evening.”
“Ah, then,” said Madame Dubarry, with a countenance all disappointment, “we must not reckon upon that.”
“What shall we do?” said the viscount, as if in deep thought. “What a devil of a business!”
“I might have an audience at Versailles,” suggested the old lady, timidly.
“Oh, you will not obtain it.”
“But through your influence, madame?”
“Oh, my influence would be of no avail. His majesty detests business matters — and, besides, his mind is now full of one thing only.”
“The parliaments?” asked Madame de Bearn.
“No — my presentation.”
“Ah!” said the old lady.
“For you know, madame, in spite of the opposition of Monsieur de Choiseul and Madame de Grammont, the king has decided that I shall be presented.”
“I was not aware, madame.”
“It is a settled affair,” said Jean.
“And when will the presentation take place, madame?”
“Oh! very soon.”
“You see the king wishes it to be before the arrival of the dauphiness, that he may invite my sister to share the festivities at Compiegne.”
“Ah — I understand. Then you have all the arrangements made for your presentation,” said the old countess, sighing.
“Oh, yes,” replied the viscount, “the Baroness d’Alogny — do you know the Baroness d’Alogny?”
“No, sir. Alas! I scarcely know any one now. It is twenty years since I was at court.”
“Well, it is the Baroness d’Alogny who is to present my sister. The king loads her with favors — her husband is chamberlain — he is to be raised from a baron to a count — the son is to go into the guards — her orders on the king’s privy purse are to be made payable by the city of Paris, and the day of the presentation she is to receive twenty thousand crowns paid down; so she is eager for it, you may be sure!”
“Yes, I can readily understand that,” said the old lady, smiling.
“Oh, but now I think of it—” cried Jean.
“Of what?” asked the Countess Dubarry.
“What a misfortune! — what a misfortune!” continued he, “that I did not meet madame a week sooner at our cousin the vice-chancellor’s.”
“Why, pray?”
“Why, we had no positive engagement then with the Baroness d’Alogny.”
“Dear brother, you speak like a sphinx — I do not understand you.”
“You do not understand?”
“No.”
“I will wager something the Countess de Bearn understands!”
“No, sir, I do not, indeed.”
“Last week you had not decided who should present you?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Well — the Countess de Bearn — but perhaps, madame, I am taking too great a liberty?”
“No, sir — no.”
“Then madame could have presented you, and the king would have done for her what he is going to do for the Baroness d’Alogny.”
“Alas!” said the old lady, opening her eyes to their utmost extent.
“Oh, if you knew,” continued Jean, “all the favors his majesty heaped on the family of the baroness, as soon as he knew she had offered to introduce Jeanne! There was only one thing in the affair that vexed him —
“Ah, one thing vexed him?”
“Yes — one single thing—’One thing vexes me,’ said he. ‘The lady who presents the Countess Dubarry I should have wished to bear an historical name,’ and as he said that, he looked at the picture of Charles I., by Vandyck.”
“Yes, I understand,” said the old lady; “his majesty turned to that picture on account of the alliance between the Dubarry-Moores and the Stuarts, of which you spoke just now.”
“Precisely.”
“The fact is,” said the old lady, with a slight air of hauteur, “I never heard of the family of D’Alogny.”
“A good family, however,” said the countess; “they have brought forward all the necessary proofs, or nearly all.”
“Pardieu!” cried Jean, suddenly starting in his chair.
“Well, what is the matter?” said Madame Dubarry, scarcely able to refrain from laughing outright at the contortions of her brother-in-law.
“Monsieur has hurt himself, perhaps?” asked the old lady anxiously.
“No,” said Jean, sinking slowly back again into his chair, “it was an idea which just then occurred to me.”
“What idea?” said the countess, laughing; “it almost overturned you.”
“It must certainly have been a good one,” said Madame de Bearn.
“Excellent!”
“Well? we are all anxiety to hear it.”
“It has only one fault.”
“Well?”
“It is impossible.”
“No matter; let us hear it.”
“Suppose you were to tell the Baroness d’Alogny the king’s remark when he looked at Charles I.’s portrait?”
“Oh, brother, that would not be polite, we cannot think of it.”
The old lady sighed.
“It is vexatious too,” continued the viscount, as if speaking to himself; “the affair could have been so easily arranged; — the Countess de Bearn, who not only bears such an ancient name, but is besides a woman of distinguished talent, would offer herself in the place of the Baroness d’Alogny; she would have gained her lawsuit; her son would have got a commission as lieutenant in the guards, and as madame must, of course, have been put to considerable expense in her frequent visits to Paris, there would have been adequate compensation allowed. Such an opportunity does not occur twice in a lifetime!”
“Alas, no!” exclaimed the old lady, quite overcome by this unforeseen blow.
The fact is, that any one in the position of the old litigant would have felt inclined to echo her exclamation, and like her would have sunk back, overwhelmed, in the easy chair.
“Now, brother,” said the countess, in a tone of great compassion, “you see you are giving pain to Madame de Bearn; was it not enough that I was forced to tell her I could do nothing for her with the king before my presentation?”
“Oh, if I could delay my suit,” sighed the countess.
“For only eight days,” said Dubarry.
“Yes, in eight days,” resumed Madame de Bearn, “in eight days madame will be presented.”
“Yes; but the king will be at Compiegne in eight days — he will be in the midst of festivities — the dauphiness will have arrived.”
“Stop! I have another idea. No — yes — no — yes, yes! — I have hit it!”
“What is it, sir?” said Madame de Bearn, whose whole soul seemed to hang upon the viscount’s lips, and who repeated mechanically the monosyllables he uttered.
“Your presentation is still a secret; no one knows that you have got a lady to present you?”
“No; for the king wishes it to fall like a thunderbolt on the court.”
“Well, the Countess de Bearn will demand an audience of the king, as she is not supposed to know any more about your presentation than others, for the purpose of offering to present you. The king, at such an offer from a lady of her rank, will be delighted; he will receive her, thank her, will ask her what he can do for her. She will introduce the subject of her lawsuit, and explain her views respecting it — his majesty will give them a favorable consideration, and the suit which she thought lost — is gained!”
The favorite fixed her eager gaze on the old lady, who probably began to suspect that there was some snare laid for her. “I am a poor unknown creature,” said she; “his majesty would not, perhaps —
“Enough. I merely wished to give you a friendly advice on the matter,” said Jean.
“Oh, sir, I am only too sensible—” said the countess, hesitating.
“It is not a bad idea,” replied Madame Dubarry, smiling; “but perhaps madame would not like to descend to anything like a trick, even to gain her lawsuit.”
“Quite true, madame,” said the old lady, hoping to get off by this means; “I had much rather do you some real service to obtain your friendship.”
“Indeed, nothing could be more condescending,” said the favorite, with a slight shade of irony which did not escape the penetration of Madame de Bearn.
“Well, I have still another means,” said Jean. The old lady listened anxiously.
“Really, brother, your imagination is as fertile in resources as that of M, de Beaumarchais. Let us hear this last idea.”
“It is that the Countess de Bearn shall render you the real service which she wishes to do. Can you not persuade the Baroness d’Alogny to yield her rights to the countess? — you need not tell her plumply the king’s observation, but you could, with your tact, make her understand that he preferred the countess’s ancient name.”
This time the attack was direct; he thought there could be no evasive answer, but the countess found one.
“I should not like to interfere with that lady’s arrangements,” said she; “among persons of quality a certain attention to these engagements must be observed.”
Madame Dubarry made a gesture of anger and disappointment, but the viscount by a look restrained her.
“Observe, madame,” said Jean, “I insist on nothing. Like many in the world, you have a lawsuit, which very naturally you wish to gain. It appears, however, that, on the contrary, you are likely to lose it; you are in despair; just at that moment I arrive; I feel for you; I take an interest in an affair which does not in the remotest degree concern me; I endeavor to make it turn out favorably for you. I am wrong — let us say no more about it!” and Jean rose from his seat.
“Oh, sir,” exclaimed the old lady in despair, for she now saw that the Dubarrys, who had been till then indifferent, were going to use their influence against her; “oh, sir, believe me, I am truly grateful to you! I feel how benevolent have been your intentions.”
“As for myself,” replied Jean, playing to the life the part of a person perfectly unconcerned, “it matters not whether my sister be presented by the Baroness d’Alogny, the Countess de Polastron, or the Countess de Bearn.”
“Oh, certainly, sir.”
“Only I confess I felt annoyed that the royal favor should be bestowed on some mean spirit, actuated by sordid interest — a spirit yielding to our power, because it is impossible to undermine it.”
“Oh, that is what will most probably happen.” said the favorite.
“While,” continued Jean, “the Countess de Bearn, almost an entire stranger to us, and coming forward without any solicitation on our part, and prompted solely by her kindness and good nature to offer her services, appears to me worthy of all the advantages which would thereby accrue to her.”
The old lady was probably about to disclaim that goodwill which the viscount did her the honor to attribute to her, but Madame Dubarry did not give her time.
“The fact is,” said she, “the king would not refuse anything to a lady who would act as you describe.”
“What? the king would not refuse anything, do you say?”
“Even more — he would say with his own lips to the vice-chancellor, ‘M, de Maupeou, I wish that everything should be settled about the lawsuit as the Countess de Bearn wishes;’ but it seems, however, as if you saw some difficulty in the matter. Very good. But you will at least do me the justice, I hope, to believe that I was actuated by a sincere wish to serve you, madame,” and the viscount bowed.
“Indeed, sir, my heart is filled with gratitude to you!”
“Pray do not speak of it,” said the gallant viscount.
“But the Baroness d’Alogny would not yield up her right?” resumed the old lady, after a short pause.
“Still, his majesty would not be the less grateful to you for your offer.”
“But supposing,” persisted the old lady, who was determined to view the matter in the worst light, in order to see to the bottom of the affair—”supposing the baroness would yield her privilege to me, she would not so readily give up the accompanying advantages.”
“The king’s kindness is inexhaustible, madame,” said the favorite.
“If I offered my services, madame,” replied the old lady, drawn on more and more both by her interest and the clever manner in which they played their parts, “I should leave out of view the gaining of my cause — for, to say the truth, a suit which every one thinks lost to-day, will not be easily gained to-morrow.”
“Oh — but if the king were favorable!” exclaimed Jean, eager to combat her new doubts.
“Well,” said the favorite. “I confess I am of the countess’s opinion, viscount.”
“You are?” said he, staring at her with open eyes.
“Yes — I think it would be more honorable for a lady of her ancient name to allow her suit to go as it may. Then there would be nothing binding on the king — nothing to impede his munificence to her; and if he did not wish, in the present state of the parliaments, to interfere with the course of justice, he might offer her compensation for the loss of the suit.”
“Ah,” sighed the old lady, “how could he offer anything to compensate for the loss of two hundred thousand francs?”
“Why, in the first place,” replied Madame Dubarry, “there might, for instance, be a royal gift of one hundred thousand francs.”
The partners in this scheme looked at their victim with eager eyes.
“I have a son—” said she.
“So much the better! One more loyal servant of the State.”
“But do you think, madame, there would be anything done for my son?”
“I can answer for it,” said Jean, “that the least he might expect would be a lieutenancy in the guards.”
“Have you any other relations?” inquired the Countess Dubarry.
“I have a nephew.”
“Well, we should find out something for your nephew,” said the viscount.
“I think we may leave that in your hands, viscount,” said the favorite, laughing, “as you have just given us proofs of so brilliant an imagination!”
“Well,” continued the viscount, apparently determined to bring matters to an issue, “if his majesty did all these things for you, would you think it tolerably well?”
“I should think him extremely generous, and should offer you, madame, all my thanks — convinced that it was to you alone I should be indebted for his generosity.”
“Then,” asked the favorite, “you really take our proposal seriously into consideration?”
“Yes, madame — most seriously,” replied the old lady, turning pale at the very thought of the obligation to which she pledged herself.
“And you permit me to mention you to his majesty?”
“Pray do me that honor,” replied she, with a deep sigh.
“Madame, I shall do so with the least possible delay — indeed, this very evening,” said the favorite, rising to terminate the interview. “And in the meantime, I trust that I have secured your friendship.”
“I feel so highly honored by yours, madame,” said the old lady, beginning her curtseys again, that I almost feel as if all this were a dream.”
“Let us see, once more,” said Jean, wishing to fix the matter so firmly in the old countess’s mind that it might be secure from all change. “One hundred thousand francs first, to make up for the loss of the suit; a lieutenancy for the young count; and something for a nephew.”
“Something?”
“I shall find out something good — that is my affair.”
“And when shall I have the honor of seeing you again, madame?” asked the old lady.
“To-morrow morning my carriage shall be at your door to take you to Luciennes — the king will be there. To-morrow, at ten o’clock, I shall have fulfilled my promise — his majesty will be informed, and will expect you.”
“Allow me to accompany you, madame,” said Jean, offering his arm.
“By no means, sir!”
“Well, then, to the top of the stairs?”
“Since you insist on it—” and she took the viscount’s arm.
“Zamore!” cried the countess.
Zamore appeared.
“Light this lady downstairs, and order my brother’s carriage forward to the door.”
The two ladies exchanged a last curtsey. At the top of the staircase Jean bade the old countess adieu, and returned to his sister, while Madame de Bearn majestically descended the grand staircase. Zamore marched first — then came two footmen with lights — and then the old lady, her train (rather a short one) borne by a third footman.
The brother and sister watched at the window, following with their eyes to the very carriage the precious chaperone, sought with so much care, and found with so much difficulty. Just as she reached the door a chaise entered the courtyard, and a young lady sprang out.
“Ah, Mistress Chon!” cried Zamore, opening his enormous mouth to its widest extent with delight. “How do you do this evening, Mistress Chon?”
The Countess de Bearn stood petrified! In the new arrival she recognized her visitor — the false daughter of Master Flageot. Dubarry hurriedly opened a window, and made frantic signs to his sister — but she did not see them.
“Has that little fool, Gilbert, been here?” inquired Chou of a lackey, without perceiving the countess.
“!No, madame,” replied one of the footmen; “we have not seen him.”
It was just then that, looking up, she saw her brother — and following the direction of his hand, discovered Madame de Bearn. Chon recognized her — hastily pulled down her hood, and rushed into the vestibule.
The old lady, without appearing to have remarked anything, got into the carriage and gave her address to the coachman.