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Pride: One of the Seven Cardinal Sins
"On your way you had better consider well if any inconveniences are likely to result from these overtures on your part. I can see only advantages."
"It is the same with me. Nevertheless, I will think the matter over. As for the rest, that is decided, you know. To-morrow morning at nine o'clock, a little to the left of the altar, in the Chapel of the Virgin, in the Church of St. Thomas d'Aquin, remember."
"That is understood," answered the abbé. "I will go and inform Mlle. Helena of our arrangements. She will be at the chapel with Mlle. de Beaumesnil to-morrow morning at nine o'clock. I can vouch for that. Now go at once to Madame de Senneterre's. You have no time to lose."
So, after an affectionate leave-taking, Célestin hastened to the Hôtel de Senneterre.
CHAPTER XVI
AN INCOMPREHENSIBLE REFUSAL
On the morning of the same day on which the foregoing conversation between Abbé Ledoux and M. de Macreuse took place, Madame la Duchesse de Senneterre, having received an important letter, went out at ten o'clock, as usual. On her return, at half past eleven, she immediately asked for her son Gerald; but that young gentleman's valet reported to madame's maid that M. le duc had not slept at home the night before.
About noon there came another and very peremptory message from the duchess, but her son had not yet returned. At last, about half past twelve, Gerald entered his mother's room, and was about to embrace her with affectionate gaiety, when the duchess, pushing him away, said, reproachfully:
"This is the third time I have sent for you, my son."
"I have but just returned home, and here I am! What do you wish, my dear mother?"
"You have but just returned home at this hour? What scandalous behaviour!"
"What scandalous behaviour?"
"Listen to me, my son: there are some things I will not discuss; but do not mistake my aversion to speaking of them for either tolerance or blindness."
"My dear mother," said Gerald, firmly, but deferentially, "you have always found me, and you will always find me, the most affectionate and respectful of sons; and it is hardly necessary for me to add that my name, which is also yours, shall be always and everywhere honoured and worthy of honour. But what else can you expect? I am twenty-four, and I live and amuse myself like a man of twenty-four."
"But, Gerald, you know that the life you are leading has troubled me very much for a long time, both on your account and my own. You shun society, though your name and talents entitle you to a distinguished place in its ranks, and you keep very bad company."
"Well, so far as women are concerned, I am forced to say that what you call bad company is the best, in my opinion. Come, come, mother, don't be angry! You know I'm still a soldier, so far as plain speaking is concerned. I consequently admit that I have a slight weakness for pretty girls in the lower walks of life. So far as men are concerned, I have friends of whom any man might be proud; but one of the dearest among them is a former soldier in my regiment. If you knew him, mother, you would have a better opinion of me," added Gerald, smiling, "for you judge a man by his friends, you know."
"Is there anybody in the world but you who chooses his intimate friends from among common soldiers?" exclaimed the duchess, shrugging her shoulders disdainfully.
"I think so, my dear mother, though it isn't everybody who has a chance to select his friends on the battle-field."
"But I am not talking of your relations with men, my son, I am reproaching you for compromising yourself as you do with those common girls."
"But they are so amusing."
"My son!"
"Pardon me, my dear mother," said Gerald, kissing his mother in spite of her strenuous efforts to prevent it. "I was wrong, yes, I was wrong. The truth is, though, – but, oh, dear! what shall I say? I don't want to horrify you again – but really, mother, vestal virgins are not to my taste, and you surely wouldn't like to see me carrying ruin and desolation into happy households, would you, mother?" he continued, in half tragic tones. "Besides, the truth is, – for virtue's sake, perhaps, – I like girls of the people better. The sanctity of marriage isn't outraged, you see, and then, as I said before, they're infinitely more amusing."
"You will excuse me from expressing any opinion on your choice of mistresses," retorted the duchess, angrily; "but it is certainly my duty to censure in the severest manner the strange frivolity of your conduct. You do not realise how you are injuring yourself."
"In what way?"
"Do you suppose that if the question of a marriage was broached – "
"A marriage?" cried Gerald; "but I've no intention of marrying, not the slightest."
"You will do me the favour to listen to me, I hope."
"I am listening."
"You know Madame de Mirecourt?"
"Yes; but fortunately she is married, so you can't offer me to her. I'm glad of it, for she's the worst plotter and schemer on earth."
"Possibly she is, but she is an intimate friend of Madame de la Rochaiguë, who is also one of my friends."
"How long since, may I ask? Haven't I often heard you say that that woman was the very personification of meanness?"
"That is neither here nor there," said the duchess, hastily interrupting him, "Madame de la Rochaiguë has now for a ward Mlle. de Beaumesnil, the richest heiress in France."
"Who is now in Italy."
"Who is now in Paris."
"She has returned?"
"Yes, last evening; and this morning, at ten o'clock, I had a long and very satisfactory interview with Madame de Rochaiguë at Madame de Mirecourt's house. I have been devoting my time and attention to a certain matter for nearly a month, but knowing your habitual levity, I would not say a word about it to you. Fortunately, everything has been kept such a close secret between Madame de la Rochaiguë, Madame de Mirecourt, and myself, that we are very hopeful – "
"Hopeful of what?"
"Why, of bringing about a marriage between Mlle. de Beaumesnil and yourself."
"A marriage!" cried Gerald, bounding out of his chair.
"Yes, a marriage – with the richest heiress in France," replied Madame de Senneterre.
Then, without making any effort to conceal her uneasiness, she continued:
"If it were not for your conduct, we should have every chance in our favour, though suitors and rivals will soon be pouring in on every side. There will be a hard struggle for the prize, and Heaven knows even the truth will be terribly damaging to you. Ah, if with your name, your talents, and your face you were a model of virtue and propriety like that excellent M. de Macreuse, for example – "
"But are you really thinking seriously of this marriage, mother?" asked Gerald, more and more astonished.
"Am I thinking of it seriously? You ask me that?"
"My dear mother, I am infinitely grateful to you for your kind intentions, but I repeat that I have no desire to marry."
"What is that you say?"
"I say, my dear mother, that I have no intention of marrying anybody."
"Mon Dieu! he is mad!" cried Madame de Senneterre. "He refuses the richest heiress in France!"
"Listen, mother," said Gerald, gravely, but tenderly; "I am an honest man, and being such, I confess that I love pleasure above all things, consequently I should make a detestable husband, even for the richest heiress in France."
"A colossal fortune – an unheard-of fortune!" faltered Madame de Senneterre, stupefied by this refusal on the part of her son. "An income of over three million francs! Think of it!"
"But I love pleasure and my liberty more!"
"What you say is abominable!" cried Madame de Senneterre, almost beside herself. "Why, you are an idiot, and worse than an idiot!"
"But, my dear mother, I love independence, and gay suppers and good times, generally, – in short, the life of a bachelor. I still have six years of such joyous existence before me, and I wouldn't sacrifice them for all the money in the world; besides," added Gerald, more seriously, "I really couldn't be mean enough to make a poor girl I had married for her money as miserable as she was ridiculous. Besides, mother, you know very well that I absolutely refused to buy a substitute to go and be killed in my stead, so you can not wonder that I refuse to sell myself for any woman's millions."
"But, my son – "
"My dear mother, it is just this. Your M. de Macreuse, – and if you really have any regard for him, don't hold him up to me again as a model, or I shall break all the canes I possess over his back, – your M. de Macreuse, who is so devout, would probably not have the same scruples that I, a mere pagan, have. But such as I am, such I shall remain, and love you even more than ever, my dear mother," added Gerald, kissing the hand of the duchess respectfully.
There are strange coincidences in this life of ours.
Gerald had scarcely uttered M. de Macreuse's name before a servant rapped at the door, and, on being told to enter, announced that M. de Macreuse wished to see the duchess in regard to a very important matter.
"Did you tell him that I was at home?" asked Madame de Senneterre.
"Madame la duchesse gave no order to the contrary."
"Very well, – ask M. de Macreuse to wait a moment."
Then turning to her son, she said, no longer with severity, but with deep sadness:
"Your incomprehensible refusal grieves and disappoints me more than I can express, so I beg and implore that you will remain here. I will return almost immediately. Ah, my son, my dear son, you can not imagine the terrible chagrin you are causing me."
"Pray, mother, do not say that," pleaded Gerald, touched by his mother's grief. "You know how much I love you."
"You are always saying that, Gerald. I wish I could believe it."
"Then send that brute of a Macreuse away, and let me try to convince you that my conduct is at least loyal and honest. What, you insist upon going?" he added, seeing his mother moving towards the door.
"M. de Macreuse is waiting for me," replied the duchess.
"Then let me send him word to take himself off. There is no necessity of bothering with him."
But as M. de Senneterre started towards the bell with the evident intention of giving the order, his mother checked him by saying:
"Really, Gerald, another of my great annoyances is the intense aversion – I will not say jealousy – you seem to entertain for a worthy young man whose exemplary life, modesty, and piety ought to be an example to you. Ah, would to Heaven that you had his principles and virtues! If that were the case, you would not prefer low company and a life of dissipation to a brilliant marriage which would assure your happiness and mine."
With this parting thrust Madame de Senneterre went to join M. de Macreuse, leaving her son alone, but not without making him promise that he would wait for her return.
CHAPTER XVII
PRESUMPTION AND INDIGNATION
When the duchess returned to her son, her cheeks were flushed, and intense indignation was depicted on her visage.
"Who ever would have believed it? Did any one ever hear of such audacity?" she exclaimed, on entering the room.
"What is the matter, mother?"
"M. de Macreuse is a scoundrel, – a vile scoundrel!" cried Madame de Senneterre, in a tempest of wrath.
Gerald could not help bursting into a hearty laugh, despite his mother's agitation; then, regretting this unseemly hilarity, he said:
"Forgive me, mother, but this revulsion of feeling is so sudden and so very remarkable! But tell me, has this man failed in respect to you?" demanded Gerald, very seriously, this time.
"Such a person as he is never forgets his manners," answered the duchess, spitefully.
"Then what is the meaning of this anger? You were swearing by your M. de Macreuse a minute ago!"
"Don't call him my M. de Macreuse, if you please," cried Madame de Senneterre, interrupting her son, impetuously. "Do you know the object of his visit? He came to ask me to say all I could in his praise, – in his praise, indeed!"
"But to whom, and for what purpose?"
"Did any one ever hear of such audacity!"
"But tell me his object in making this request, mother."
"His object! Why, the man wants to marry Mlle. de Beaumesnil!"
"He!"
"Did any one ever hear of such presumption?"
"Macreuse?"
"A mere nobody! A common vagrant!" cried the duchess. "Really, it is hard to imagine who could have had the audacity to introduce a creature like that into our circle."
"But how did he happen to reveal his projects to you?"
"Because I have always treated him with consideration, I suppose; because, like so many other fools I took him up, without knowing why, until the fellow thought he had a right to come and say to me that, by reason of the friendly interest I had always taken in him, and the eulogiums I had lavished upon him, he really felt it his duty to confide to me, under the pledge of secrecy, his intentions with regard to Mlle. de Beaumesnil; not doubting, he had the audacity to remark that I would say a few words in his favour to that young lady, adding that he would trust to – to my friendly interest. I do believe he had the impudence to say – to find an opportunity to do him this favour at the earliest possible moment. Really, effrontery is no name for assurance like his!"
"But really, my dear mother, you must confess that it is your own fault. Haven't I heard you praise and flatter this Macreuse in the most outrageous manner, again and again?"
"Praise him – flatter him!" exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, naïvely. "Did I suppose then that he would have the impudence to take it into his head to marry the richest heiress in France, or to think of such a thing as competing with my son? Besides, with all his boasted shrewdness, the man is nothing more or less than a fool to apply to me for assistance in his schemes! He will be surprised when he finds out how I will serve his interests. His pretensions are ridiculous, positively ridiculous! He is an adventurer, a scoundrel! He hasn't even a name, and looks like a sacristan who has just been to dine with his parish priest. He is a hypocrite, a pedant, and a most unmitigated bore, with all his pretended virtues. Besides, he hasn't the slightest chance, for, from what Madame de la Rochaiguë tells me, Mlle. de Beaumesnil would be delighted to become a duchess. Quite a woman of the world, though so young, she has a full appreciation of all the pleasures and advantages which a large fortune combined with a high social position gives, and it certainly is not a plebeian like M. de Macreuse who can give her this high social position."
"And what reply did you make to his request?"
"Enraged at his audacity, I was on the point of telling him that his pretensions were as absurd as they were insolent, and of forbidding him to ever set foot in my house again; but I reflected that I might be able to circumvent him most successfully by pretending that I was willing to assist him, so I promised that I would speak of him, as he deserved – and I certainly shall not fail to do so. Oh, I will urge his claims in an effectual manner, I'll vouch for that."
"Do you know, my dear mother, that it is not at all unlikely that Macreuse will attain his end?"
"He marry Mlle. de Beaumesnil, he?"
"Yes."
"Nonsense! Are you, too, mad?"
"Don't deceive yourself, mother. The coterie that sustains him is all-powerful. He has on his side, – I don't mind telling you now you detest him so thoroughly, – he has on his side all the women who have become bigots, because they are old, all the young women who are prudes, because they are ugly, all the male devotees, because they make capital out of their religion, and all the serious-minded men, because they are so stupid; so you see the name of his supporters is legion."
"But with my social standing, my opinion will have some weight, I think," retorted the duchess.
"But you have been one of his warmest champions and admirers up to the present time, and no one will be able to explain your sudden change of feeling, or, rather, every one will be able to explain it; and, instead of injuring Macreuse, the war you wage against him will aid him. The fellow is an unmitigated scoundrel and arrant hypocrite. You have no idea with whom you have to deal, my dear mother."
"Really, you take this very calmly – with truly heroic self-abnegation, I might say," exclaimed the duchess, bitterly.
"No, I assure you, his presumption excites my deepest indignation. A fellow like Macreuse to have such pretensions and perhaps be able to realise them, a man who from my school-days has always inspired me with both loathing and aversion! And this poor Mlle. de Beaumesnil whom I do not even know, but who becomes interesting in my eyes the minute she is in danger of becoming the wife of that rascal, – really I have half a mind to marry her myself, if only to spoil Macreuse's plans and save the poor little thing from that villain's clutches."
"Oh, Gerald, my son," cried the duchess, "your marriage would make me the happiest of mothers!"
"But – my liberty – my precious liberty!"
"But, Gerald, think of it, – with one of the most illustrious names in France, and then to become the richest and greatest landowner in France! Think of the power this immense fortune will give combined with a position like yours, my dear Gerald."
"Yes, that is so," answered Gerald, reflectively, "but think of me, too, condemned to a life of ennui, and silk hose every evening henceforth and for ever. Besides, remember those dear girls who love me so devotedly; for, having the good fortune to be young and poor, I am forced to believe that their love is entirely disinterested."
"But, my dear," insisted the duchess, urged on in spite of herself by her ambition to see her son make this wealthy marriage, "perhaps you exaggerate the requirements of duty too much. Because you are married is no reason – "
"Oh, mother, mother, to think I should ever hear you recommending laxity of morals after marriage!"
"You misunderstand my meaning entirely, my son," replied Madame de Senneterre, considerably embarrassed. "I didn't say anything of the kind. If I insist, it is not only to inspire you with a desire to supplant this abominable man, but also for humanity's sake, so to speak."
"Humanity's sake?"
"Certainly, that poor little Mlle. de Beaumesnil would positively die of grief and despair if she is forced to live with such a monster. It would be a most generous and commendable act to save her from him."
"Really, mother, I expect to hear you say in a minute or two that I shall deserve the Monthyon prize, if I contract this marriage."
"Yes, if the Monthyon prize is to be awarded to the son who makes his mother the happiest of women," replied Madame de Senneterre, looking up at Gerald with eyes full of tears.
Gerald loved his mother so devotedly that the emotion she manifested touched the young duke deeply, and he said, with a smile:
"Ah, what a dangerous thing a mother is! She seems to be quite capable of marrying you to the heiress of millions, even against your will, especially when there is danger that a scoundrel like Macreuse may be converted into a millionaire. The fact is, the more I think of it the more pleased I am at the idea of circumventing this hypocrite. What a blow it would be to him! But there is one difficulty, my dear mother, and it strikes me that I am a little late in thinking of it."
"What do you mean?"
"I am by no means sure that I should please Mlle. de Beaumesnil."
"You will only have to try to succeed in doing it, I am sure, my dear Gerald."
"A true mother's view of the matter."
"I know you better than most people, perhaps."
"You are not capable of giving an opinion on the matter, I see. Your affection blinds you, but I forgive you."
"Leave the matter to me, Gerald. Only consent to be guided by me, and see if I don't conduct the affair to a successful termination."
"Do you know that one would take you for an inveterate match-maker if one didn't know you," said Gerald, gaily. "But all mothers are alike in one respect, when their children's interests are at stake they become positive tigresses and lionesses. Very well, whatever your will may be I resign myself to it blindly."
"My dear, good Gerald," cried the delighted duchess, positively weeping with joy; "you cannot imagine how happy you have made me. That wretched Macreuse will die of spite."
"That is so, mother. I shall give him the jaundice instead of the sword-thrust he would have declined to take."
"Now, Gerald, let us talk the matter over sensibly."
"So be it. I am listening."
"As you have made up your mind, it is of the utmost importance that you should see Mlle. de Beaumesnil as soon as possible."
"Very well."
"This first interview, you must understand, is of great importance."
"Unquestionably."
"The fact is so apparent that I had a long talk with Mesdames de Mirecourt and de la Rochaiguë upon the subject this morning. From what the latter lady is able to judge of Mlle. de Beaumesnil's character, this is the plan we think most expedient; but you shall judge for yourself, Gerald."
"Very well, let me hear it."
"We recognised from the first the impossibility of representing you as a serious-minded and settled man – "
"And you showed your good sense, for I should have proved you a set of base deceivers only too soon," retorted Gerald, laughing.
"Of course there is no hope of avoiding the many censorious remarks which the frivolity of your conduct seems to justify, my poor Gerald, so the best thing we can do is to make everything that is said against you redound to your credit as much as possible."
"Only mothers could show themselves such clever diplomatists as that."
"Fortunately, Mlle. de Beaumesnil, judging from what Madame de la Rochaiguë says, – she talked with the girl awhile last evening, and the mind of a child of sixteen is not difficult to read, – fortunately, Ernestine de Beaumesnil seems to be very fond of luxury, splendour, and display, so we think it advisable that you should first appear before her in the character of one of the most elegant young men in Paris."
"If you are clever enough to find such an opportunity, I consent, I am sure."
"It is to-morrow afternoon, is it not, that you are to take part in that race in the Bois de Boulogne?"
"Yes, I promised that ninny, De Courville, who has a number of fine horses he is afraid to mount himself, that I would ride his horse, 'Young Emperor,' in the hurdle race."
"Capital! Madame de la Rochaiguë shall take Mlle. de Beaumesnil to the race. They will call for me, and as soon as we reach the Bois it will seem the most natural thing in the world that you should come up and talk with us before the racing begins. Your jockey costume of orange satin with black velvet trimmings is extremely becoming to you."
"One word, if you please, my dear mother."
"Let me finish, please. Mlle. de Beaumesnil will see you among a crowd of fashionable young men, in which you shine preëminent, every one must admit. And, then, I don't doubt that you will win the race. It is absolutely necessary that you should win it, Gerald."
"It is the general opinion, mother, that the 'Young Emperor' and I will come out ahead, but – "
"You certainly ride superbly," said the duchess, again interrupting her son; "and when Ernestine sees you excelling your competitors in the midst of frantic applause, there can be very little doubt that, upon one with the tastes and character she seems to have, the impression produced will be excellent; and if, after this first meeting, you make yourself as agreeable as you can be when you choose, that impudent Macreuse will appear odious in her eyes even if he should have the audacity to enter the lists."
"May I be allowed to say a word now, my dear mother?"
"Certainly."
"I see no objection to being introduced by you to Mlle. de Beaumesnil at a race in the Bois de Boulogne; but do you really think it advisable that the presentation should take place on a day that I am arrayed in the garb of a jockey?"
"But why not? I am sure the costume is extremely becoming to you."
"It seems to me to savour too much of an actor."
"Really, Gerald, you have the most peculiar ideas."
"No, no, my dear mother, it is you who have such ideas, without suspecting it. But, seriously, you can present me to Mlle. de Beaumesnil where you please, when you please, and as you please, either afoot or on horseback, – you are at liberty to choose, you see. But I will not have recourse to the fascinations of a jockey's costume. I don't need them," added Gerald, with a comical affectation of extreme complacency. "I shall dazzle and fascinate Mlle. de Beaumesnil by a host of admirable moral and conjugal qualities."
"Really, Gerald, you are incorrigible. You can not treat even the most important things seriously."
"What does that matter, provided the things are accomplished?"
The conversation between the duchess and her son was interrupted a second time by a valet who announced that the Baron de Ravil wished to see M. le duc on very important business, and that he was now waiting in the apartments of M. le duc.
"Very well," said Gerald, though he was greatly surprised at this visit.
After the valet withdrew, the duchess said to her son:
"What business can you have with M. de Ravil? I can not bear the man. He is received everywhere, though, and I must confess that I set the example as much as any one, without really knowing why I do it."
"The explanation is very simple. His father was a very popular man. He introduced his son into the same social circle in which he himself moved, and, once admitted, Ravil, the younger, continued to be received. I, too, dislike him thoroughly. I have not seen him since the day of that strange duel between the marquis and M. de Mornand, and I have no idea what he can want with me. By the way, I heard an anecdote yesterday that shows his real character, perfectly. A poor fellow who is not very well off in this world's goods obligingly opened his purse to Ravil, and this is the way Ravil repaid him for his kindness: 'Where the devil did the fool steal that two hundred louis he loaned to me?' he exclaimed in the presence of a number of acquaintances afterward."
"How shameful!" cried the duchess.
"I will go and see what he has to say," remarked Gerald. "The man always seems to know everything that is going on. Wait for me, though, my dear mother. In a few minutes I may return as enthusiastic in regard to this cynical personage as you were exasperated against Macreuse."
"That is very ungenerous in you, Gerald."
"Well, at least admit that you and I are not very fortunate in our callers, this morning, my dear mother."
And M. de Senneterre hurried off to join the baron.
