On a misty evening—we were to leave Coblenz on the morrow—as I stood watching the fiercely flowing river, and the rich vine country around it, I saw an apparition—Jacques Haret. What he was doing in Coblenz, I neither knew nor cared. He came up, greeted me with effusion, and asked me if Count Saxe was going to visit his brother, the King of France, as Henry of England had visited Francis the First—and this with a grin which was most distasteful to me. I desired to fling the fellow into the ditch near-by, but I have lived long enough in this world not to provoke a battle with a wit, if I can help it. So, I referred him to Count Saxe for information; and even Jacques Haret dared not bell the Saxe cat. I turned to go to the inn where Count Saxe and his party were lodged, and Jacques Haret accompanied me, as if I had invited him.
When we reached the inn, it was near supper time, and leaving him very unceremoniously, I went to Count Saxe. He was about to join Madame Riano at supper in her rooms, for we usually dined and supped as one party, and we proceeded thither. Madame Riano, Francezka and the two Chevernys awaited us. The cloth was laid, and by accident, so it seemed, Peter had put an additional place at the table. I mentioned that I had come across Jacques Haret, for I made no doubt the fellow would intrude himself upon us, and I wished to prepare Mademoiselle Capello for 146 his advent. By my advice and Gaston Cheverny’s, she had not mentioned to Madame Riano her acting in Jacques Haret’s company in the garden. There was no telling to what heights Madame Riano’s wrath might rise; she would be capable of wringing Jacques Haret’s neck if she had a good mind to, and as the thing was not suspected by any except a few persons who had seen the last performance, it was undoubtedly best to keep it quiet.
Francezka blushed a little at the mention of Jacques Haret’s name. She was fully sensible of her folly and danger in acting in his company, but the follies of a young girl of fourteen are easily excused. Scarcely had I spoken of Jacques Haret, when the door opened and the gentleman himself appeared. He had come to pay his respects to Madame Riano, to tell her the latest news of Paris, and, incidentally, to get his supper. I understood why old Peter had put the extra place at the table.
Jacques was better dressed than usual, and, as always, handsome and at his ease. Madame Riano, who had ever a sneaking tolerance for the fellow, received him civilly, as did the others present. Jacques Haret speedily made it known that he had a whole budget of Paris news, but would by no means tell one single item, until Madame Riano, driven thereto by a raging curiosity, invited him to join us at supper. Madame Riano could not forbear asking him. Jacques accepted with the finest air in the world, seated himself with us and unfolded his napkin. Old Peter’s face shone with joy, and his usually melancholy eyes were full of delight.
Once certain of a good supper, with excellent wine, 147 Jacques Haret opened his bundle of news. He told us everything that had happened at Versailles. Old Cardinal Fleury’s fall from power was much to Jacques Haret’s relief, and the cardinal’s successor, Jacques thought, would make no trouble about his coming to Paris, and if he were clapped in prison, there would be at least a lettre de cachet and the Bastille, as became a gentleman and a remote connection of the Kirkpatricks, and not the common prison of Paris; at which Madame Riano desired Peter to see that Monsieur Haret’s glass was kept filled. The king was getting tired of being virtuous, Jacques told us, and now the cardinal was out of the way, we might look for some gay doings. Mademoiselle Lecouvreur was winning all hearts as ever at the Comédie Française, but her health was visibly breaking. My master questioned him closely on this point and found, as usual, Jacques Haret knew what he was talking about. Monsieur Voltaire was still in England, but he was expected to return to Paris shortly, his exile being reckoned at an end. I made no doubt privately that the creature would be on hand in plenty of time to write some pasquinades about my master.
Many other things Jacques Haret told us; and for people who have once lived in Paris and have been away for a year and a half, it may be supposed there was much we wished to hear—I, least of all, because I always thought Paris a diabolical sort of place, and expected to like it none the better for what it would have to say about Count Saxe’s expedition to Courland.
Jacques was good-humoredly polite to Mademoiselle Francezka, who was a little embarrassed in his company. 148 The two Chevernys regarded him with the tolerance of youth for an entertaining fellow, and he seemed to have neither grudge nor envy of Regnard Cheverny’s possession of Castle Haret.
We sat late, and, before we parted, Jacques Haret had arranged to travel with us, riding one of the lead horses. I knew not how it came about, but the whole company submitted, as always, to being taxed for Jacques Haret’s benefit. And, as he had got a horse out of somebody, I made no doubt he would get his tavern bills paid and perhaps a complete new outfit by the same sort of diplomacy.
Next morning we resumed our journey. Francezka, that day, rode a-horseback. She had not much fancy for Jacques Haret’s society, as soon as her appetite for news was satisfied, so one or the other of the Chevernys rode with her the whole day.
From the Rhine at Coblenz to Brussels is a short and easy road, and from thence we entered that rich country of Brabant, which famine never touches, which war can not ruin, and which is always fruitful and blessed of Heaven. And at last, on a fair October afternoon, we came within sight of the château of Capello.