"I was a mere lad; I had a sweetheart whose family lived near our own in the vicinity of a certain small provincial town, it matters not where. She, much younger than I, shared all my childish games. It was the will of God that we should love. My family was rich, is rich; both were noble. I had two older brothers who stood between me and a title or wealth. Her parents were ambitious for her future; I was put aside. They sent her away, away from me, and married her here in Paris to a man she had never seen. A simple marriage of convenience, as we say here. Her heart was numb and dead; it made no rebellion. I went to the army; gained nothing but my rank. My brothers died, and I being the next heir can live as it pleases me. Here I am in Paris; she is at Sceaux, two leagues away. I love her yet, and, God forgive her, she loves me. Her old husband who is attached to the Duc du Maine cares nothing for her. She amuses herself half in idleness with the intrigues of the court. Nay do not look so black, Placide, for even this can be innocent enough. There is much excuse for her, too, my friend. A woman must needs have love to feed upon. They can never, like ourselves, fill their hearts entirely with ambition, with glory or with adventure. Men may make of their lives a cloister or a camp and be content; but women, whatever else of gaud and glitter they may have, yet require love and tenderness and gentle sympathy beside. Happy is she who receives all these from her husband; and that husband treads dangerous ground who denies it to her. I see your wonder at hearing this from me; but I have thought constantly upon such things. Peste! this touches not our business; let us go on. Through this lady's husband, and by another source of information, I hope to find the truth concerning Yvard. Do you follow me?"
"Yes, but how?" I put in. "When I run my neck into a halter, I want to know whose hands are playing with the cord."
"Never fear for her. Madame—that is, the lady—has a firm hold upon the Duc du Maine himself, in fact she is quite indispensable to him. Don't ask me for more. Once let the Duc be made Regent, and my old-time sweetheart of those innocent days in Anjou will be the most powerful woman in France. But with all that, Placide," and the man's quivering voice went straight to the very tenderest core of my heart for the depths of bitterness it contained, "in spite of it all she'd rather be back in the country breathing the pure and peaceful air, a guiltless and happy girl, than to live as she does, and rule the land. God knows I wish we had never seen Paris."
I held my tongue; there was nothing I could say. He felt his trouble keenly enough, and I refrained from molding my undesired sympathy into words. Directly, Jerome took heart and spoke again:
"Those are the conditions, I merely make the best of them. There is still another friend of mine at Sceaux, the Chevalier Charles de la Mora, a most gallant soldier and kindly gentleman. Verily, they are scarce now in France. He has fallen into misfortunes of late and is about to take some command in the colonies. I love him much, and am sorely tempted to cast my lot with his. But, you understand why I stay," and he lifted up his hands with a gesture of perfect helplessness.
"His wife, Madame Agnes—almost a girl—is one of the most beautiful and clever women in France, and who, by way of novelty, loves her own husband. Women are queer sometimes, are they not? To-morrow we go to Sceaux; it will at least be an experience to you, even should nothing good come of it. Do you agree?"
My curiosity was thoroughly aroused, and scenting sport of a rare character I agreed to join the chase. It was judged best that we should make all things ready for an immediate journey to Versailles upon our return from Sceaux.
Before we slept, my few serviceables were put in position for instant departure.
When I arose in the morning Jerome had already left his bed. I supposed it was out of consideration for what he was still pleased to consider my weak condition that he refrained from waking me. Claude came tripping in later with the message that M. de Greville had gone to make some last arrangements for our journey. I slept so restfully through the night my fatigue and all unpleasant reminders of the episode at Bertrand's had quite worn away, and I felt refreshed and strong again. When Florine came to inquire for my health she found me busied about the packing. I greeted her kindly, for in truth my gratitude was deep and sincere.