Chapter I.

Waikato Times, Volume X, Issue 570, 15 January 1876, Page 2 (Supplement)

Chapter I.

Madame de la Veyle, widow of Vice-Ad-miral de Lauris, had espoused, on her second marnaee, a General named the Marquis de la Veyle. Well contenrwith both experiments, the Marchioness made it a duty and an amusement to propagate a taste for tn institution which she herself had reason to praise. She embraced with ardour the professnn of match-making. Her own social position, her influential connections, and the success which her diplomacy had achieved in some arduous matrimonial transactions insured her a large measure of public confidence. Moreover, she had, as she used to say a taking sign over the shopdoor, meaning her daughter-in-law, Louiso de Lauris. Monsieur de Lauris wis an officer of the navy, whose frequent and protracted terms of absence placed his youn^; wife in a rather delica f e position, ■wherein, however, she acquitted hersplf "with a cleverness which roflt>eted credit on her mother in-law'* discernment. Madame de la Yeyle received on Thur-day evenings. Although there was always music, her Thursdays were not gay. A sense of mystery clogged the air. TJtter strangers, in white cravats, would be seen^itting through the t'ooms, anon Y*nish?ff to return no more Young ladies, apparent cause, would ' burst suddenly into tears. All (hit sort 1 of thing chil's the atmosphere of a draw-ing-room. Od this particular evening the Marchioness was performing an act of simple charity, the marriage then on the > stocks belonging to an humble category from which she could exprct little satisfaction beyond a contented conscience. ! A poor cousin of the General's, who went by the name of Eddy in the family, was to be introduced to the daughter of a Professor at Sainte Barbe College. Eddy was an awkward, bashful young man, of slender physical attractions which he had not learned the knack of displaying with effect. He ryas, however, a musician, playing tolerably well upon the flute, Madame de la Veyle had therefore, determined that he should present him r .clf in that character. 'I know the flue is not an instrument that electrifies the imagination, still it is poor Eddy's ■trongest point.' So it was arranged that Eddy, in the course of the evening', should play an air upon the flute, accompanied by the General and Madame de Lauris. At a given moment Mar amede Laurie struck 'la' on the piano Jrhile the General drew the same note from his violincello. Eddy, after vaiuly straggling to catch the key, suddenly croised the drawing-room with a diffident ttep, kneeled down before the fireplace, took his flute apart add held the pieces cautiously to the fire, 'What is all this?' said Madame de la Veyle, while the Professor's daughter exchanged an anxious glance with her own friends. • What do you mean by this, my dearP A most extraordinary perfoi 'nance ' are you cooking .your 9i»i i for 0 ' 'To rai-o its tone/ said Edward, meekly, •What! you believe that? What a funny idea ! Now, it spems to me very unreasonable, very improbable, my dear. However, anything is possible.' " Oppressed by the chilling silence of the spectators, Eddy sprang up rather abruptly and tried once more to take the key which the General and Madame de L&uris struck for him with unwearied patience. But his ear was not yet quite satisfied, he resumed his humble posture before the fire-place, and once more exposed parts of his flute to the warmth of the fire. At this unlucky delay a aub""3ued buzz, half murmur and half giggle, began to circulate. The Professor's daughter, red as a tomato, bent an eye of entreaty on her mother ; whereupon the Marchioness interfered : •My dear Edward, that will do ! We cannot spend our evening watching you cook your flute ; you must see that it is out of the question. Better renounce the performance — let it be for another time, my dear — another time !' After this painful incident, conversation could but languish. The Professor's family took leave early. Poor Edward put his flute sadly back in its leather box, wiped his moistened brow and disappeared. • A fine, session !' pronounced the General, withdrawing soon after to his private apartment. Bat one person was now left in the drawing-room beside Madame dela Veyle and her daughter-in-law. Ibis was a *" young _&ian of some thirty years, wellmade,%iegant, and with a distinguished air. The vicissitudes of the evening; seemed to have escaped his notice, Hia cold, proud features had vouchsafed no Bign of interest, or even attention to the minor drama we have just been sketching. He had not observed Edward or the Professor's family leave the room, only rose slightly from his chair when the General withdrew, then went on quietly sketching profiles in an album. • Monsieur de Bias/ Madame de Lauris exclaimed abruptly. 'by the way, my Tersea — when shall I h«ve them P' This instant, madame, if you like.' ' Oh, an impromptu then — bravo !' She set before him an • album reserved for poets, and the yonDg man after.a moment's reflection, scribbled rapidly tome lines. Then, with an inclination of the head, he presented the book to Madame de Lauris. ' What does he find to say to you P' inquired Madame de la Veyle, breaking away from sombre reflections. ' This, mamma !' said the younger lady, and gravely read the following nonsense : ' Tht dim««l who appeared to night, Mncb to my godmother* d«llght. View'd wiib no fntodly «je th« tnlt Of Kdw*rd and hli enobatrtnd flat*.' ' You bad boy !' said the Marchioness, ' Instead of stabbing me with that flute you would do better to explain your own cenduct, which is certaiuly peculiar.' • Why so, madame P' ' Indeed, Lionel, I don't overrate my Thursdays. I know they can't have much attraction for you, when you could let two years go by wi'hout recalling their existence. Still I could understand that. But of late you haven't mused a single one, and this, I confess appears mysterious. Come, frankly, my dear, what is your motive P For whom, or what, this

assiduity r* Do you comej here to fasoinate n«y daughter-in-law—^or to look oat for, a good match fl'f 1 ' ' Well, m the fir->t place, 1 said Lionel, 1 have I the choice ?' ' Must I leave the room, mamma ?' cri^d Madame de Lauri«, gayly lifting her pretty head from her embroidery. ' My dear godmother,' said M. do Kia«, keep Madame dv Lauris with you, I entreat! Since you intend, apparently, to preach the beauty of marriage, don't forego such a potent argument.' 'What, really—? You do mean it, then?' exclaimed the Marchioness, with kindling eyes. ' Well, lam charmed with you — positively charmed. This is indeed a delightful compensation for this evening's annoyances. 1 need not say, my dear Lionel, how zealously 1 shall devote myself to your s>ervice, out of friendship in thefirst place, and then from reraemhrance of your poor mother ; but seriously, my dear — since we have such grave matters to discuss— if my daughter-in-law incommodes you — ?' Madame de Lauris, half-rising, assumed an attitude of arch-inquiry and meek submission. ' No, no, I conjure your,' returned Lionel, ' the presence ot Madame de Liuns is not merely agreeable, but useful to mo. She supports me under this test : she shows me marriage in. such a captivating light — ' ' Incuse me, my dear,' interrupted the old Marchioness, I don't propose you shall make love to Madame de Lauris under pretence of a feigned marriage. You caunot hoodwink mo with that game. At all events you may stay, my daughter ; we shall soon see.' 'I obey,' said the younger lady, and betook herselt to Iht embroidery. ' Come, dear Lionel,' pursued Madame de h Vuyle,' 'are you sincere? Have you made up your mind to change ?' ' I have no special need to change,' explained M de Ilias, modestly ; ' but it was always my intention to marry oils' day, that being rather a custom in my family. Now lam thirty years old, and ] deem it prudent and becoming to present myself tv the alter while I am still presentable. That is all. Lei me add — to appease Madame de Launs, wlio is darting a terrible glance in my direction — that I am also capable ot being attracted to marriage by considerations i of a less practical nature; that I am not ' quite a stranger to some honest and tender sentiments, although I may not care to parade them ; that I am sometimes haunted, like other men, by dreams of kindly mtimacy and dome>tio happiness; that tne thought of finding, on coming home, a gracelul, faithful young head inclined beneath the library lamp, ; or over an embroidery frame, is by no means indifferent to me; that, in shoit, 1 should be happy to see filled, in so happy and charming a way, the void left by my mother in my household.' ' Why, that is admirable,' said the elder lady; "i protest you move me — your hand, dear child.' M. de Itias kissed respectfully the hand she offered him, then proceeded, laughing, ' .Now for the objections 1' I • But what objections, my dear ? At all events, don't detail them — your I objections. I know them by heart. Some marriages turn out badly, isn't that | it ! There are some uncomfortable households in the world — ' ' You might say— a good many,' put in Lionel. ' Well, what of it ? What can you make of that ? Of course there are ill-natured men— silly men — men without taet — so much the worse for them.' ' You scarcely mean mo to suppose, madame, that, it depends exclusively on the man whether his homo shall be happy or wretched ?' ' I beg your pardon — I mean just that, for it's the truth. Look, my dear, at the wives of sailors. Why are they all such models of correct deportment and good conduct P (You may well bow, my daughter.) Because their husbands are not at home to aggravate them.' 'Now, my dear godmother, you will surely admit that there are women who are himpiy monsters, and whom husbands, present or absent, cannot influence a jot.' ' Not at all,' my dear ; monsters do not exist, or at least they are rare — extremely rare. That's a mania men have nowadays to maintain that women are all born monsters. Convenient, at all events — makes them irresponsible ! However, you may be sure I will not furnish you a monster. So much I'll answer for. Louise,' she continued, turning to her daughter-in-law, ' do you know whom I have in my mind for him. ?' The youDger lady looked up thoughtj fully a moment ; then turning her fine eyes abruptly on her mother, exclaimed, ' Mario ?' 'Am I not right ? You can almost see them together — the very idea fascinates you — long ago, for that matter, I had that match made in my mind.' 'Mane,' said M. deKias, that's a pretty name when worthily borne ; but allow me one question, is Mademoiselle Marie a Parisienne P' ' ¥es, intho fullest and highest sense,' said Madame de Lauris. ' Enough ! I reject the nomination.' ' Because—?' inquired the Marchioness. ' Because I am aware how young ladies are brought up in Paris, and without yielding over much to illusions respecting country innocence, I believe I secure some chances in my favor by taking a wife from the provinces, ' Ah, my dear, don't do tEafc,' exclaimed the Marchioness ; • for heavens sake, don't do that ! What an idea — to send to the country for a wife, as you do for I servants. Do you know how servants turn out who come up from the provinces ? Pans inebriates them, addles their brains, leaves them worse than others. You will have an ill-bred wife who'll not know how to dress, who'll have red hands, who'll put you to skame, and deceive you all the same— like any other woman! No ; don't you see, my dear, to be candid with you, there are dangers everywhere. Let us choose, at all events, the least ridiculous.' • But, my dear Marchioness,' cried Lionel, witli ludicrous violence, ' I fail to understand you. I imagined you were about to stimulate, encourage me, whereas every word you utter is fraught with terror.' ' I must confess, mamma,' said Madame de Lauris, laughing heartily, ' that you are by no means reassuring.'

' My dear gil, what should I say? He would like, of course — with all bis set fjr that matter— to Lave us hand him on a silver salver a marriage without ,i flan — without mks, without a chance of misfortune. Well, I have none of that sort to ofl'er, b* tvuso they don't e\ist. But, my dear boy, T have one rulo. It is to bring IO4OUIT only such persons as sa'isfy reasonable conditions of propriety and happiness. I know, for instance, a young lady, well born, well endowed by nature, who would make an admirable wife. I know, on the other hand, a young man of distinction, of stainless honor, quite charming, in fact ([ mean you, in parenthesis) — well, I make a match between them ; there my part ends. What follows is their own affair. I marry you m haste, you can repent at leisure. Besides, listen to me, dear Lionel : at the point of life you have reached, your reflections, objections, arguments and so on are wholly bootless. You have told us your symptoms— thoy are decisive. You are ripe, suffer yourself to be culled without too much coyness.' ' But, seriously,' persisted Lionel in a sober tone, ' I am not so decided as you would make me, and I want to consider the matter longer.' ' You may do so, my dear ; only while you are considering the precious bird may ity away,' ' "Well, let it fly,' said the young man, grasping his hat as if about to withdraw, he did not go, however, but leaning against the mantelpiece drew a long breath and went on in a «ortof mcnlacholy whisper—' I marry ? We 1 1. so be it ! But I don't need to be married to-morrow morning.' The old Marchioness turned to Madame do J.airis and said with comic gravity, ' You are witness, my daughter, of a pathetic scene— the last agonies of an old bachelor.' Lionel laughed, ' Tell me then,' he continued, ' how has she been brought up, this young lady of yours ?' ' My dear,' said the old Marchioness, I ' she was brought up in a tower— by fairies — does tint "uit you ?' ' Is she a friend of yours ?' inquired the young man of Madame de Launs. 'Oh, yes, I'm very fond of her.' • Well, that is something.' ! 'Oh my dear!' cried the Marchioness, 1' we need not mystify him. She's not only a friend of Louise but a cousin, and the fi'-st lettprs of her name areMademoiselle Fitzgerald.' * Mademoiselle Fitzgerald ?' ' Yes — what do you say to that?' ' That it would be an alliance both honorable and advantageous— but are you • sure there is a young lady Fitzgerald ? I j v.ign ly remember seeing a child at the ' Fitzgeralds', but I fancied it was a boy. 1 I ' Not at all. It is a girl.' ' And where, pray, may people see her ?' ' People may see her anywhere where people are visible — but only within the last two years, 'tis true — since you have ! been in mourning ; so she may, naturally, be unknown to you.' ' Do you remember,' said Madame de Launs, 'my pOT little sister-in-law P' ' Madame de Kevern ? Perfectly. Poor yourg creature! She was charming.' ' Well, Marie Fit/gerald is something in that style. Indeed, I think she resembles her personally, don't you, mamma ?' 'If you like,' said the Marchioness. 'In a word, she is very pretty. For that matter, my dear Lionel, you shall soon judge with your own eyes, for I mean to perform an act of heriosm in your behalf. Marie and her mother just now are at their country place near Melun. Poor Kevern, my daughter-in-law's brother, has a little shooting-box in their nighbot hood, which he placed at our disposal during his abseuce. It is not a region lam fond of, but I shall take Louise and install myself there for a few days. You will come and see us, and the introduction will take place naturally. Is it agreed ?' ' I am overcome by so much, kindness, said Lionel, ' and yet I could wish that this proceeding might not absolutely bind me. 1 '0, what a man ! Nobody is going to marry you against your will ! Be at ease on that score. For that matter, on your own part, you may very possibly fail to please. You look surprised, my dear ; but I repeat, you may very possibly fail to please. So nobody 1-, bound. Will you r.ng, dear Lionel P Gome again to-morrow in the course of the day, and we will finish our plans P' Monsieur de Rial renewed his thanks, made his adieui and withdrew, leaving Madame de la Veyle and her graceful daughter-in law a prey to that gentle excitemeut which all ladies, young and old, experience when they are involved, however remotely, in adventures wherein love seems called upon to play a part.