At Paris he determined to go in person to the Embassy. He was received there by a sort of private secretary, who informed him, in substance, that, in compliance with his frequent requests they had at last elucidated a mysterious affair. The young woman who had eloped and disappeared did in fact belong to the noble family of Merida, and Mario was the issue of a secret marriage, the validity of which might be contested.
The young woman had left no claim to any fortune, and her family were by no means anxious to recognize a young man reared by an old heretic, only partially purged of his heresy.
The marquis, deeply incensed, determined to stop there and to repay the contempt of those haughty Spaniards with oblivion. It had cost his pride dearly enough to besiege the doors of an embassy which he, as a former Protestant and a good Frenchman, bitterly detested.
And yet he was sad, and confided his distress to his inseparable Adamas.
"Of a surety," he said to him, "the pleasantest and most honorable life is that of the provincial nobility. But, while it is suited to those who have fought and suffered, it may become burdensome and even shameful in the case of a young heart like Mario's. Have I reared him with the greatest care, have we made of him, thanks to his precocious talents, an accomplished gentleman, fit for any station, only to bury him in a country manor, on the pretext that he has no need to make his fortune, and that he is tender-hearted and humane? Should he not have a little taste of war and adventure, and by some brilliant deed win that marquisate which the great cardinal's ideas of universal levelling may take from him any day? I know that the child is very young, and that we have lost no time as yet; but his inclinations seem to tend in the direction of study, and I ransack my wits to determine how he will find a way to distinguish himself in that direction."
"Monsieur," replied Adamas, "if you think that your son will be more of a cripple than you in battle, you hardly know him."
"I do not know my son?"
"Well, no, monsieur, you do not know him: he is a mysterious creature who loves you so dearly that he never dares to have an idea to perplex you or a trouble for you to share. But I know what is in the bag: Mario dreams of war as much as of love, and the time is near at hand when, if you do not divine his ambition, you will have him either sick or melancholy on your hands."
"God forbid!" cried the marquis. "I will question him on this subject to-morrow!"
In such a matter, when a man says to-morrow, it means that he is inclined to shirk, and the marquis did in fact shirk. Paternal weakness fought a great battle with paternal pride, and won the day. Mario was not yet strong enough to endure the fatigues of war; and, furthermore, the war with England or Spain to which all indications pointed, seemed to be postponed for a brief space by Richelieu's mighty efforts to create a French navy. There was no need of haste; there was plenty of time; the opportunity would come soon enough!