THE HONOR OF THE FAMILY
Daily the young Chevalier developed a warmer interest in the sweet and pure young girl at the faubourg lodgings. Always his visits brought a little delicious heart-flutter to Henriette, though not unmixed with mourning o’er lost sister. And as a result of these idyllic meetings, ambitious plans appeared to him abhorrent.
About this time the Countess de Linieres, calling one day at her husband’s ministerial offices, learned of his purposes.
“I was about to come to you,” said the Count, “but you have anticipated me. I desire to speak with you on the subject of your nephew, the Chevalier de Vaudrey, and to ask you to prepare him for the marriage which the King––”
“Wishes to impose on him,” interrupted the Countess bitterly.
“Impose on him?” repeated de Linieres. “It is a magnificent alliance, which will complete the measure of the distinguished 47 honors with which His Majesty deigns to favor us.”
“Have you spoken to the Chevalier yet?”
“No, but I am expecting him every moment, and I wished to talk with him in your presence.”
As if this conversation had some influence over him, de Vaudrey entered at this moment.
“Ah, Chevalier!” exclaimed the Count. “I am glad to see you. The Countess and myself have an important communication to make to you.”
De Vaudrey looked at his uncle in surprise. The latter was positively beaming. Big with the prospective grandeur of his house, he hesitated momentarily over the manner of delivering it.
“My dear Maurice,” said the Count finally, “the King did me the honor to receive me yesterday, and he spoke of you.”
“Of me?” asked de Vaudrey in surprise.
“He takes a great interest in you,” continued de Linieres, now speaking quickly. “He wishes you to accept a position at court, and desires at the same time that you should marry.”
“Marry?” asked de Vaudrey, as though 48 he could not believe his uncle really meant what he said.
The Countess waited as anxiously for de Vaudrey’s answer as did her husband, though for a different reason. She loved the young man before her, and his happiness and well-being were very dear to her.
“My dear nephew,” she said kindly, “I see that this news surprises you. Yet there is no fear that the King’s choice will do violence to your feelings. The lady whom His Majesty has chosen, has youth, beauty and fortune.”
“In proof of which I have only to tell you that his choice is Princesse––” the Count attempted to say, but was interrupted by the Chevalier.
“Do not name her,” he said excitedly.
“Why not?” asked his uncle in astonishment.
“Because I refuse to marry!”
The effect of these momentous words was quite diverse upon the uncle and the aunt of the young man.
For the moment the haughty nobleman could not understand why his nephew-by-marriage should reject the flattering proposal, such an easy and agreeable road to 49 place and fortune. Soon rising anger got the better of his surprise, and minding Picard’s reports on the Chevalier’s conduct, his thought was:
“Ah, that’s the secret––he prefers his libertine courses to assured fortune!”
But the Aunt, with a woman’s ready wit, understood there could be but one reason to such a decided refusal, and knew that he must be already in love.
Countess de Linieres loved the Chevalier as if he were her own son. Quickly she shot the youth a warning look to prevent if possible a verbal passage of arms. But it was already too late.
“You dare to disobey the King––” thundered Count de Linieres, in righteous wrath, backed (as the others well knew) by the triple authority of household, police and royal cachet.
“My sword is my King’s,” flashed the handsome youth resolutely, “but my will must remain my own!
“I will go to His Majesty,” he continued passionately. “I will thank him for his goodness, place my services at his disposal. My devotion, my life are his, but my affections 50 are my own, and I wish to remain––free!”
“Free!” exclaimed the Count scornfully. “Free to lead a life of dissipation which you may not always be able to hide from the world.”
These words, which implied so much, stung the noble-hearted de Vaudrey more than any words of anger or reproach could have done.
“There is nothing in my life to hide,” he said proudly but impatiently, “nothing for which I have reason to blush.”
“Are you sure of that, Chevalier?” asked the Count, in a tone that plainly said the speaker knew differently. Conscious of his own uprightness, this doubt cast upon his word was more than the Chevalier could bear, and he advanced toward his uncle with a menacing air.
“Monsieur!” he began, boldly, “I cannot––”
“Maurice! my husband!” exclaimed the Countess, as she stepped between the two men to prevent those words being spoken which would have led to an encounter. “Defer the conversation for the present. Permit me to speak to Maurice.”
“Very well,” said de Linieres sternly. Then turning to the Chevalier he said, in a voice which he had never before used to his nephew: “We will return to this another time. You will remember that as head of the family its honor is confided to my care, and I will not suffer any one to sully it with a stain.”
De Vaudrey had nearly lost all control of his temper. In a moment the outbreak which the Countess was so anxious to avoid would have broken forth, had not the Count without giving his nephew time to speak said quickly:
“I leave you with the Countess. I hope that your respect and affection for her will cause you to lend more weight to her counsels than you are disposed to give to mine.”
As if fearing that he might have tried the young man’s temper too far, or that he did not wish to prolong a useless scene, the Count left the room. De Vaudrey was alone with his Aunt.
The Countess went up to the noble-looking young man, and taking his hand in hers, asked in a sweet, winning voice:
“Who is this woman you love? What obstacle prevents the avowal of your passion? 52 If it is only a matter of fortune, take mine; it is all at your disposal, and I will give it to you cheerfully.”
“Ah, where shall I find a heart like yours?” exclaimed the Chevalier in a voice trembling with emotion. “You have divined my secret. I adore a young girl as charming as she is pure. Yet never have I dared to whisper my passion!”
“Her name––her family?” asked the Countess eagerly.
“She was born of the people,” said de Vaudrey proudly, yet tenderly. “She is an orphan and lives by the labor of her hands.”
The Countess, who had never for a moment imagined such an answer to her question, was surprised, and she showed plainly that grief was mingled with her surprise.
“And you would make such a woman your wife?” she asked reproachfully.
“Do not judge her until you have seen her,” entreated the Chevalier. “Consent to see her, and then advise me.”
The young man took the Countess’s hands in his, and looked imploringly into her face.
But his Aunt turned away from him with a gesture of sorrow.
“In such a marriage,” she said sadly, “there can be no happiness for you, and for her, only misery. Alas! I know too well the result of those unequal unions. You must renounce her. You owe obedience to your family and your King.” She burst into a flood of tears.
Diffidently the young man sought to comfort the Countess whose emotion seemed to have its spring in some hidden sorrow. He promised at last for her sake to consider again the horribly odious proposal of a State marriage, and drying her tears as well as he could, went his way, a victim of torn desires and intensest anguish....