As always, Francezka seemed glad to see me. She knew I had no news of Gaston, and only asked me if search was still kept up for him. I told her yes, and that Count Saxe had increased the already large reward offered for news of Gaston. Also I told her that we were well convinced Gaston must be on the farther side of the Rhine; I did not say “if alive.” I could not, with Francezka’s lovely, miserable eyes upon me. But she was perfectly calm and collected. I never saw her more entirely mistress of herself.
I then asked her of her own affairs since we had parted. She told me that she had thought best to make the announcement of her marriage as public and as ceremonious as possible, and for that reason had invited all of the most considerable people of the neighborhood to the château of Capello on a certain day. She told 289 me—poor, unhappy Francezka—that in anticipation of a gala when Gaston should return, she had prepared handsome new liveries for all her servants, and had refurnished the red saloon, and had hung the Diana gallery with mirrors. These things she determined to display on the day she made the announcement.
“For, in spite of my heavy misfortune in not knowing where my husband is, it must ever be a day of congratulation and of honor with me when I tell the world that I am Gaston Cheverny’s wife,” she said proudly.
She had written to the Bishop of Louvain with her own hand, but by some accident he had heard before receiving the letter that Francezka was privately married—only that Count Bellegarde, his relative, was the happy man, instead of Gaston Cheverny. The bishop, pleased at his nephew’s good fortune, wrote Francezka a letter of congratulation, warmly approving her marriage, and most indulgent toward the secrecy of it. But on receiving Francezka’s letter, saying she was Gaston Cheverny’s wife, the bishop changed his tune and sent Francezka a fulmination, in which he denounced the secrecy of the marriage excessively. To this Francezka replied, saying as the bishop was so incensed with her, she would reconsider a considerable gift she had intended making toward building the new wing of the palace, to which Madame Riano was so much opposed. This brought the bishop down on his marrow bones. Francezka, in spite of her trouble, was still Francezka, and a gleam of her old humor shone in her eyes when she told of the bishop’s discomfiture, and especially that the threatened withdrawal of the gift was the suggestion of Father Benart, the bishop’s brother. I 290 always knew the little priest was not devoid of either sense or humor.
When the day came Francezka said she was so torn with emotions she could scarcely go through with it, but pride and devotion to Gaston Cheverny held her up. And a great piece of good fortune befell her at the crucial moment—Madame Riano arrived unexpectedly from Scotland. Another gleam of humor shot from Francezka’s eyes when she told me that Madame Riano claimed to have had supernatural information in Scotland that a Kirkpatrick was in trouble, which brought her home; but Francezka thought that Madame Riano had by that time grown a little tired of her sojourn in the land of Goshen, as she represented Scotland to be. At all events, her coming was of extraordinary good fortune to Francezka; for having countenanced the marriage, and advised secrecy, Madame Riano could do no less than sustain Francezka.
“I made the announcement myself,” said Francezka, “standing at the top of the Diana gallery, with the Bishop of Louvain on one side of me, my aunt on the other, and Father Benart, with Madame Chambellan, behind me, and before fifty persons of the highest quality I could gather together. I dressed myself splendidly for the occasion and wore all my jewels, and I don’t think, Babache, that there was any note of apology in my voice for having married Gaston Cheverny. I told of his gallant ruse to save Count Saxe, of his being carried off, and being lost sight of, and of my determination to go in search of him. I felt, rather than saw, in the beginning, that many of those present were hostile to me, and did not cordially approve 291 my course, but before I finished speaking there was a subtile change, a warming toward me. When I had concluded, the Sieur de Montigny, eighty years old, arose and expressed for the company heartfelt wishes that I might find my husband, and that we might live long in joy and peace together.”
Yes, it was easily understood how courage and devotion in the person of Francezka, with her eloquent voice and eyes to plead for her, had won her the victory over these people.
“The ordeal had begun for me most painfully, but it ended most hopefully. Surely if all those people believed that Gaston would be found, it was not for me, his wife, to give way to despair. Just as at the hour of our marriage, a storm had come up, followed by a clear and beautiful evening, so, on the morning of the day of which I have been telling you, rain fell, and a cold northeast wind made the June day as dreary as November. But while I was speaking I caught the gleam of the sun upon the canal, under the windows, and suddenly the day became inexpressibly beautiful; so I think, Babache, that my day and Gaston’s will yet be sunshiny.”
With this Francezka’s face grew almost gay, but it was a lightning flash; it was not the steady and cheerful hope I had seen in her eyes when she told me first of her marriage.
She further told me that she was accompanied on her travels by Madame Chambellan for the sake of propriety; but beyond securing Madame Chambellan’s comfort, I do not fancy that Francezka concerned herself further. This good, insipid, incapable lady was 292 not a person to uphold any one, and answered Francezka’s requirement for a lay figure perfectly.