Александр Дюма
The Countess of Saint Geran
They slept that night at an inn on the road to Auvergne, to put off the scent any persons who might recognise them; then, following cross-country roads, they arrived after two days at a large hamlet, which they had seemed to have passed far to their left.
In this hamlet was a woman who practised the avocation of midwife, and was known as such in the neighbourhood, but who had, it was said, mysterious and infamous secrets for those who paid her well. Further, she drew a good income from the influence which her art gave her over credulous people. It was all in her line to cure the king’s evil, compound philtres and love potions; she was useful in a variety of ways to girls who could afford to pay her; she was a lovers’ go-between, and even practised sorcery for country folk. She played her cards so well, that the only persons privy to her misdeeds were unfortunate creatures who had as strong an interest as herself in keeping them profoundly secret; and as her terms were very high, she lived comfortably enough in a house her own property, and entirely alone, for greater security. In a general way, she was considered skilful in her ostensible profession, and was held in estimation by many persons of rank. This woman’s name was Louise Goillard.
Alone one evening after curfew, she heard a loud knocking at the door of her house. Accustomed to receive visits at all hours, she took her lamp without hesitation, and opened the door. An armed man, apparently much agitated, entered the room. Louise Goillard, in a great fright, fell into a chair; this man was the Marquis de Saint-Maixent.
“Calm yourself, good woman,” said the stranger, panting and stammering; “be calm, I beg; for it is I, not you, who have any cause for emotion. I am not a brigand, and far from your having anything to fear, it is I, on the contrary, who am come to beg for your assistance.”
He threw his cloak into a corner, unbuckled his waistbelt, and laid aside his sword. Then falling into a chair, he said —
“First of all, let me rest a little.”
The marquis wore a travelling-dress; but although he had not stated his name, Louise Goillard saw at a glance that he was a very different person from what she had thought, and that, on the contrary, he was some fine gentleman who had come on his love affairs.
“I beg you to excuse,” said she, “a fear which is insulting to you. You came in so hurriedly that I had not time to see whom I was talking to. My house is rather lonely; I am alone; ill-disposed people might easily take advantage of these circumstances to plunder a poor woman who has little enough to lose. The times are so bad! You seem tired. Will you inhale some essence?”
“Give me only a glass of water.”
Louise Goillard went into the adjoining room, and returned with an ewer. The marquis affected to rinse his lips, and said —
“I come from a great distance on a most important matter. Be assured that I shall be properly grateful for your services.”
He felt in his pocket, and pulled out a purse, which he rolled between his fingers.
“In the first place; you must swear to the greatest secrecy.”
“There is no need of that with us,” said Louise Goillard; “that is the first condition of our craft.”
“I must have more express guarantees, and your oath that you will reveal to no one in the world what I am going to confide to you.”
“I give you my word, then, since you demand it; but I repeat that this is superfluous; you do not know me.”
“Consider that this is a most serious matter, that I am as it were placing my head in your hands, and that I would lose my life a thousand times rather than see this mystery unravelled.”
“Consider also,” bluntly replied the midwife, “that we ourselves are primarily interested in all the secrets entrusted to us; that an indiscretion would destroy all confidence in us, and that there are even cases – You may speak.”
When the marquis had reassured her as to himself by this preface, he continued: “I know that you are a very able woman.”
“I could indeed wish to be one, to serve you.”.
“That you have pushed the study of your art to its utmost limits.”
“I fear they have been flattering your humble servant.”
“And that your studies have enabled you to predict the future.”
“That is all nonsense.”
“It is true; I have been told so.”
“You have been imposed upon.”
“What is the use of denying it and refusing to do me a service?”
Louise Goillard defended herself long: she could not understand a man of this quality believing in fortune-telling, which she practised only with low-class people and rich farmers; but the marquis appeared so earnest that she knew not what to think.
“Listen,” said he, “it is no use dissembling with me, I know all. Be easy; we are playing a game in which you are laying one against a thousand; moreover, here is something on account to compensate you for the trouble I am giving.”
He laid a pile of gold on the table. The matron weakly owned that she had sometimes attempted astrological combinations which were not always fortunate, and that she had been only induced to do so by the fascination of the phenomena of science. The secret of her guilty practices was drawn from her at the very outset of her defence.
“That being so,” replied the marquis, “you must be already aware of the situation in which I find myself; you must know that, hurried away by a blind and ardent passion, I have betrayed the confidence of an old lady and violated the laws of hospitality by seducing her daughter in her own house; that matters have come to a crisis, and that this noble damsel, whom I Love to distraction, being pregnant, is on the point of losing her life and honour by the discovery of her fault, which is mine.”
The matron replied that nothing could be ascertained about a person except from private questions; and to further impose upon the marquis, she fetched a kind of box marked with figures and strange emblems. Opening this, and putting together certain figures which it contained, she declared that what the marquis had told her was true, and that his situation was a most melancholy one. She added, in order to frighten him, that he was threatened by still more serious misfortunes than those which had already overtaken him, but that it was easy to anticipate and obviate these mischances by new consultations.
“Madame,” replied the marquis, “I fear only one thing in the world, the dishonour of the woman I love. Is there no method of remedying the usual embarrassment of a birth?”
“I know of none,” said the matron.
“The young lady has succeeded in concealing her condition; it would be easy for her confinement to take place privately.”
“She has already risked her life; and I cannot consent to be mixed up in this affair, for fear of the consequences.”
“Could not, for instance,” said the marquis, “a confinement be effected without pain?”
“I don’t know about that, but this I do” know, that I shall take very good care not to practise any method contrary to the laws of nature.”
“You are deceiving me: you are acquainted with this method, you have already practised it upon a certain person whom I could name to you.”
“Who has dared to calumniate me thus? I operate only after the decision of the Faculty. God forbid that I should be stoned by all the physicians, and perhaps expelled from France!”
“Will you then let me die of despair? If I were capable of making a bad use of your secrets, I could have done so long ago, for I know them. In Heaven’s name, do not dissimulate any longer, and tell me how it is possible to stifle the pangs of labour. Do you want more gold? Here it is.” And he threw more Louis on the table.
“Stay,” said the matron: “there is perhaps a method which I think I have discovered, and which I have never employed, but I believe it efficacious.”
“But if you have never employed it, it may be dangerous, and risk the life of the lady whom I love.”
“When I say never, I mean that I have tried it once, and most successfully. Be at your ease.”
“Ah!” cried the marquis, “you have earned my everlasting gratitude! But,” continued he, “if we could anticipate the confinement itself, and remove from henceforth the symptoms of pregnancy?”
“Oh, sir, that is a great crime you speak of!”
“Alas!” continued the marquis, as if speaking to himself in a fit of intense grief; “I had rather lose a dear child, the pledge of our love, than bring into the world an unhappy creature which might possibly cause its mother’s death.”
“I pray you, sir, let no more be said on the subject; it is a horrible crime even to think of such a thing.”
“But what is to be done? Is it better to destroy two persons and perhaps kill a whole family with despair? Oh, madame, I entreat you, extricate us from this extremity!”
The marquis buried his face in his hands, and sobbed as though he were weeping copiously.
“Your despair grievously affects me,” said the matron; “but consider that for a woman of my calling it is a capital offence.”
“What are you talking about? Do not our mystery, our safety, and our credit come in first?
“They can never get at you till after the death and dishonour of all that is dear to me in the world.”
“I might then, perhaps. But in this case you must insure me against legal complications, fines, and procure me a safe exit from the kingdom.”
“Ah! that is my affair. Take my whole fortune! Take my life!”
And he threw the whole purse on the table.
“In this case, and solely to extricate you from the extreme danger in which I see you placed, I consent to give you a decoction, and certain instructions, which will instantly relieve the lady from her burden. She must use the greatest precaution, and study to carry out exactly what I am about to tell you. My God! only such desperate occasions as this one could induce me to – Here – ”
She took a flask from the bottom of a cupboard, and continued —
“Here is a liquor which never fails.”
“Oh, madame, you save my honour, which is dearer to me than life! But this is not enough: tell me what use I am to make of this liquor, and in what doses I am to administer it.”
“The patient,” replied the midwife, “must take one spoonful the first day; the second day two; the third – ”
“You will obey me to the minutest particular?”
“I swear it.”
“Let us start, then.”
She asked but for time to pack a little linen, put things in order, then fastened her doors, and left the house with the marquis. A quarter of an hour later they were galloping through the night, without her knowing where the marquis was taking her.
The marquis reappeared three days later at the chateau, finding the count’s family as he had left them – that is to say, intoxicated with hope, and counting the weeks, days, and hours before the accouchement of the countess. He excused his hurried departure on the ground of the importance of the business which had summoned him away; and speaking of his journey at table, he related a story current in the country whence he came, of a surprising event which he had all but witnessed. It was the case of a lady of quality who suddenly found herself in the most dangerous pangs of labour. All the skill of the physicians who had been summoned proved futile; the lady was at the point of death; at last, in sheer despair, they summoned a midwife of great repute among the peasantry, but whose practice did not include the gentry. From the first treatment of this woman, who appeared modest and diffident to a degree, the pains ceased as if by enchantment; the patient fell into an indefinable calm languor, and after some hours was delivered of a beautiful infant; but after this was attacked by a violent fever which brought her to death’s door. They then again had recourse to the doctors, notwithstanding the opposition of the master of the house, who had confidence in the matron. The doctors’ treatment only made matters worse. In this extremity they again called in the midwife, and at the end of three weeks the lady was miraculously restored to life, thus, added the marquis, establishing the reputation of the matron, who had sprung into such vogue in the town where she lived and the neighbouring country that nothing else was talked about.
This story made a great impression on the company, on account of the condition of the countess; the dowager added that it was very wrong to ridicule these humble country experts, who often through observation and experience discovered secrets which proud doctors were unable to unravel with all their studies. Hereupon the count cried out that this midwife must be sent for, as she was just the kind of woman they wanted. After this other matters were talked about, the marquis changing the conversation; he had gained his point in quietly introducing the thin end of the wedge of his design.
After dinner, the company walked on the terrace. The countess dowager not being able to walk much on account of her advanced age, the countess and Madame de Bouille took chairs beside her. The count walked up and down with M. de Saint-Maixent. The marquis naturally asked how things had been going on during his absence, and if Madame de Saint-Geran had suffered any inconvenience, for her pregnancy had become the most important affair in the household, and hardly anything else was talked about.
“By the way,” said the count, “you were speaking just now of a very skilful midwife; would it not be a good step to summon her?”
“I think,” replied the marquis, “that it would be an excellent selection, for I do not suppose there is one in this neighbourhood to compare to her.”
“I have a great mind to send for her at once, and to keep her about the countess, whose constitution she will be all the better acquainted with if she studies it beforehand. Do you know where I can send for her?”
“Faith,” said the marquis, “she lives in a village, but I don’t know which.”
“But at least you know her name?”
“I can hardly remember it. Louise Boyard, I think, or Polliard, one or the other.”
“How! have you not even retained the name?”
“I heard the story, that’s all. Who the deuce can keep a name in his head which he hears in such a chance fashion?”
“But did the condition of the countess never occur to you?”
“It was so far away that I did not suppose you would send such a distance. I thought you were already provided.”
“How can we set about to find her?”
“If that is all, I have a servant who knows people in that part of the country, and who knows how to go about things: if you like, he shall go in quest of her.”
“If I like? This very moment.”
The same evening the servant started on his errand with the count’s instructions, not forgetting those of his master. He went at full speed. It may readily be supposed that he had not far to seek the woman he was to bring back with him; but he purposely kept away for three days, and at the end of this time Louise Goillard was installed in the chateau.
She was a woman of plain and severe exterior, who at once inspired confidence in everyone. The plots of the marquis and Madame de Bouille thus throve with most baneful success; but an accident happened which threatened to nullify them, and, by causing a great disaster, to prevent a crime.
The countess, passing into her apartments, caught her foot in a carpet, and fell heavily on the floor. At the cries of a footman all the household was astir. The countess was carried to bed; the most intense alarm prevailed; but no bad consequences followed this accident, which produced only a further succession of visits from the neighbouring gentry. This happened about the end of the seventh month.
At length the moment of accouchement came. Everything had long before been arranged for the delivery, and nothing remained to be done. The marquis had employed all this time in strengthening Madame de Bouille against her scruples. He often saw Louise Goillard in private, and gave her his instructions; but he perceived that the corruption of Baulieu, the house steward, was an essential factor. Baulieu was already half gained over by the interviews of the year preceding; a large sum of ready money and many promises did the rest. This wretch was not ashamed to join a plot against a master to whom he owed everything. The marchioness for her part, and always under the instigation of M. de Saint-Maixent, secured matters all round by bringing into the abominable plot the Quinet girls, her maids; so that there was nothing but treason and conspiracy against this worthy family among their upper servants, usually styled confidential. Thus, having prepared matters, the conspirators awaited the event.
On the 16th of August the Countess de Saint-Geran was overtaken by the pangs of labour in the chapel of the chateau, where she was hearing mass. They carried her to her room before mass was over, her women ran around her, and the countess dowager with her own hands arranged on her head a cap of the pattern worn by ladies about to be confined – a cap which is not usually removed till some time later.
The pains recurred with terrible intensity. The count wept at his wife’s cries. Many persons were present. The dowager’s two daughters by her second marriage, one of whom, then sixteen years of age, afterwards married the Duke de Ventadour and was a party to the lawsuit, wished to be present at this accouchement, which was to perpetuate by a new scion an illustrious race near extinction. There were also Dame Saligny, sister of the late Marshal Saint-Geran, the Marquis de Saint-Maixent, and the Marchioness de Bouille.
Everything seemed to favour the projects of these last two persons, who took an interest in the event of a very different character from that generally felt. As the pains produced no result, and the accouchement was of the most difficult nature, while the countess was near the last extremity, expresses were sent to all the neighbouring parishes to offer prayers for the mother and the child; the Holy Sacrament was elevated in the churches at Moulins.
The midwife attended to everything herself. She maintained that the countess would be more comfortable if her slightest desires were instantly complied with. The countess herself never spoke a word, only interrupting the gloomy silence by heart-rending cries. All at once, Madame de Boulle, who affected to be bustling about, pointed out that the presence of so many persons was what hindered the countess’s accouchement, and, assuming an air of authority justified by fictitious tenderness, said that everyone must retire, leaving the patient in the hands of the persons who were absolutely necessary to her, and that, to remove any possible objections, the countess dowager her mother must set the example. The opportunity was made use of to remove the count from this harrowing spectacle, and everyone followed the countess dowager. Even the countess’s own maids were not allowed to remain, being sent on errands which kept them out of the way. This further reason was given, that the eldest being scarcely fifteen, they were too young to be present on such an occasion. The only persons remaining by the bedside were the Marchioness de Bouille, the midwife, and the two Quinet girls; the countess was thus in the hands of her most cruel enemies.
