CHAPTER III.
So, in a week, they were all comfortably settled in a hotel at Tours.
Mr Bullion was sitting in the parlour, apparently in deep and pleasant contemplation; for the corners of his mouth were involuntarily turned up, and he inspected the calf of his leg with self-satisfied admiration. Mr Cocker was on a chair in the corner, probably multiplying the squares in the table-cover by the flowers in the paper.
"How do you like France, Mr Cocker?" said Mr Bullion.
"Not at all, sir; the folks has no sense; and no wonder we always wallop them by sea or land."
"Hem! Must I remind you, sir, that this is my country; that the French are my countrymen; and that you by no means wallop them either by sea or land."
"You French! you Frenchman!" replied Mr Cocker; "that is a joke! Bullion ain't altogether a French name, I think? No, no; it smells of the bank; it does. You ain't one of the parlevous—you ain't, that's certain."
"How often have I to order you, sir, not to doubt my word?" said Mr Bullion; and emphacised his speech with a form of expression that is generally considered a clencher.
"There! there!" cried Cocker, triumphant; "I told you so. Is there ever a Frenchman could swear like that? They ain't Christians enough to give such a jolly hearty curse as yourn; so you see, sir, it's no go to pass yourself off for a Mounseer."
"Leave the room, sir, and send Mr Hope to me at once!"
Cocker obeyed, puzzled more and more at the fancy his master was possessed with to deny his country.
"It would, perhaps, have been wiser," thought Mr Bullion, "to have left the plebeian fools at home till everything was formally completed; but still, nothing, I suppose, would have satisfied them but the evidence of their own eyes."
"Mr Hope," he said, as that young gentleman entered the room, "sit down beside me; nay, no ceremony, I shall always treat you with condescension and regard."
"You are very good, sir."
"I am, sir; and I trust your conduct will continue such as to justify me in remaining so. You may have observed, Mr Hope, a change in my manner for some time past. You can't have been fool enough, like Miss Smith and Mr Cocker, to doubt the reality of the fact I stated, namely, that I am French by birth,—did you doubt it, sir?"
"Why, sir,—in fact—since you insist on an answer—"
"I see you did. Well, sir, I pity and pardon you. I will tell you the whole tale, and then you will see that some alteration must take place in our respective positions. In the neighbourhood of this good city of Tours I was born. My father was chief of the younger branch of one of the noblest houses in France,—the De Bouillons of Chateau d'Or. He was wild, gay, thoughtless, and fell into disgrace at court. He was imprisoned in the Bastille; his estates confiscated; his name expunged from the book of nobility; and he died poor, forgotten, and blackened in name and fame. I was fifteen at the time. I took my father's sword into the Town Hall; I gave it in solemn charge to the authorities, and vowed that when I had succeeded in wiping off the blot from my father's name, and getting it restored to its former rank, I would reclaim it at their hands, and assume the state and dignity to which my birth entitled me. I went to England; your father, my good Cecil, took me by the hand: porter, clerk, partner, friend,—I rose through all the gradations of the office; and when he died, he left me the highest trust he could repose in anyone,—the guardianship of his son."
"I know sir,—and if I have never sufficiently thanked you for your care—"
"Not that—no, no—I'm satisfied, my dear boy—and Louise—the Lady Louise I must now call her—change of rank—duties of lofty sphere—former friends—ill arranged engagements—" continued the new-formed magnate in confusion, blurting out unconnected words, that showed the train of his thoughts without expressing them distinctly; while Mr Hope sat in amazement at what he had heard, but no longer doubting the reality of what was said.
"Well, sir?" he inquired.
"I changed my name with my country, though retaining as much of the sound of it as I could; and Louis Bullion was a complete disguise for the expatriated Marquis de Bouillon de Chateau d'Or. I married Miss Smith, and lost her shortly after Louise's birth. For years I have been in treaty with the French ambassador through his almoner, the Abbé, whose visits you thought so mysterious. At last I succeeded, and to-morrow I claim my father's sword, resume the hereditary titles of my house, and take my honoured place among the peers and paladins of France."
"And have you informed Louise?"—inquired Cecil.
"Lady Louise," interrupted Mr Bullion.
"Of this change in her position?"
"Why, my dear Cecil, to tell you truth—it's not an easy matter to get her to understand my meaning. Yesterday I attempted to explain the thing, exactly as I have done to you; but instead of taking it seriously, she began with one of her provoking chuckles, and chucked me under the chin, and called me Marquy-darky. In fact, I wish the explanation to come from you."
"I feel myself very unfit for the task," said the young man, who foresaw that this altered situation might interfere with certain plans of his own. "I hope you will excuse me; you can tell her the whole affair yourself, for here she comes."
And the young lady accordingly made her appearance. After looking at them for some time—
"What are you all so doleful about?" she began. "Has papa bitten you too, Cecil? Pray don't be a duke—it makes people so very ridiculous."
"Miss Louise—mademoiselle, I ought to say," said Mr Bullion, "I have communicated certain facts to Cecil Hope."
"Which he doesn't believe—do you, Cecil?" interposed the daughter.
"He does believe them, and I beg you will believe them too. They are simply, that I am a nobleman of the highest rank, and you are my right honourable daughter."
"Oh, indeed! and how was our cousin Spain when you heard from Madrid?—our uncle Austria, was he quite well?—was George of England recovered of the gout?—and above all, how was uncle Smith, the shipowner of Wapping?"
"Girl! you will drive me mad," replied the Marquis, "with your Smiths and Wappings. I tell you, what I have said is really the case, and to-morrow you will see the inauguration with your own eyes. Meantime, I must dress, to receive a deputation of the nobility of the province, who come to congratulate me on my arrival."
"Oh, what's this I hear," exclaimed Miss Smith, rushing into the room, "are you a real marquis, Mr Bullion?"
"Yes, madam, I have that honour."
"And does the marriage with my sister stand good?"
"To be sure, madam."
"Then, I'm very glad of it. Oh how delightful!—to be my Lord this, my Lady that. I am always devoted to the aristockicy; and now, only to think I am one of them myself."
"How can you be so foolish, aunt?—I'm ashamed of you," said Louise; "what terrible things you were telling me, an hour ago, of the wickedness of the nobility?"
"Miss Smith, though she does not express herself in very correct language, has more sensible ideas on this subject than you," said the marquis, looking severely at his daughter, who was looking, from time to time, with a malicious smile at the woe-begone countenance of Cecil Hope. "Remember, madam, who it is you are," continued the senior.
"La, papa! don't talk such nonsense," replied the irreverent daughter. "Do you think I am eighteen years of age, and don't know perfectly well who and what I am?"
"Three of your ancestors, madam, were Constables of France."
"That's nothing to boast of," returned Louise; "no, not if they had been inspectors of police."
"You are incorrigible, girl, and have not sense enough to have a proper feeling of family pride."
"Haven't I? Am I not proud of all the stories uncle David tells us of his courage, when he was mate of an Indiaman? and aunt Jenkison—don't you remember, sir, how she dined with us at Christmas, and had to walk in pattens through the snow, and tumbled in Cheapside?"
A laugh began to form itself round the eyes of the French magnate, which made his countenance uncommonly like what it used to be when it was that of an English merchant. Louise saw her success, and proceeded.
"And how you said, when the poor old lady was brought home in a chair, that it was the punch that did it?"
"He, he! and so it was. Didn't I caution her, all the time, that it was old Jamaica rum?" broke out the father; but checked himself, as if he were guilty of some indecorum.
"And don't you remember how we all attended the launch of uncle Peter's ship, the Hope's Return? Ah, they were happy days, father! weren't they?"
"No, madam; no—vulgar, miserable days: forget them as quick as you can. I tell you, when you resume your proper sphere, every eye will be turned to your beauty: nobles will be dying at your feet."
"I trust not, sir," hurriedly burst in Mr Hope. "I don't see what right any nobles will have to be dying at Louise's feet."
"Don't you, sir?" said Louise. "Indeed! I beg to tell you, that as many as choose shall die at my feet. I'll trouble you, Mr Hope, not to interfere with the taste of any nobleman who has a fancy to so queer a place for his death-bed." But while she said this, she tapped him so playfully with her little white hand, and looked at him so kindly with her beautiful blue eyes, that the young gentleman seemed greatly reassured; and in a few minutes, as if tired of the conversation, betook himself to the other room.