“What presence of mind! what angelic—humph!” muttered the patient, looking up, and winking in a very odd way at the maiden.
Madame Rigaud declared that it was of no kind of use for them to try to lift him up, so she lifted up her voice, and presently the room was crowded; for Monsieur Robert was no less a personage than the house-steward, or maître-d’hotel, who had been sent by the Comte to desire Madame Rigaud to inform the young lady that breakfast was served, and her presence to grace that meal was most respectfully requested, and anxiously desired.
Of this invitation Jaqueline was not made aware until the apoplectic invalid had been placed upon a sofa, and contrived to catch hold of one of her hands, and pinch it sadly. “Ah! I’m quite well now!” he exclaimed, “it was only a momentary—ah! I don’t know what;” and, rising briskly, he ordered all present to leave the room, as he had something particular to say to the young lady. The domestics instantly withdrew; but Madame Rigaud remained, and whispered to Jaqueline that the horses would be ready in ten minutes, and then, in a louder tone, proposed that they should take breakfast together immediately.
At this proposition Monsieur Robert appeared much shocked, and spake incoherently about proper respect, and the Comte’s particular desire, and his own most perfect devotion to the service of Mademoiselle; to which she replied—“You may as well save your breath to cool your broth, old gentleman. I’ve had quite enough of the Comte’s tricks already this morning; and as for your services, they’re of no use to me.”
“Oh, cruel!” groaned Monsieur Robert. “Did you not just now accept them, and even condescend to request me to see you safe to some place?”
“Well, well, I don’t want you now,” said Jaqueline; “I’ve got an active young man, who will do a great deal better.”
“Oh! how cruelly capricious!” he sighed, and the great red face was turned upward as he clasped his hands imploringly, and he was striving, no doubt, to concoct something very pathetic, when the young Comte burst in upon them, and began, in no measured terms, to upbraid Madame Rigaud for her misconduct in allowing his distinguished visitor to occupy any other than the best apartments. He then apologised to Jaqueline, and taking her hand, and bowing respectfully, led her out of the room toward the salle à manger, from whence issued certain savoury odours, which operated more powerfully upon the hungry maiden than could all the fine speeches he continued to utter. So, determined to make a good breakfast, to strengthen her for her flight with Philippe, she allowed herself to be conducted into the elegant apartment, where she was received by the company with as much deference as though she had been a princess. The party consisted of half-a-dozen persons; and as there were no other ladies present, she was the great object of attention. The Comte gallantly pressed her to partake of certain delicacies at table; and, when she laconically expressed her approbation thereof, seemed quite in ecstasy. One gentleman complimented her upon patronising the dress of the country, and thereby evincing a purity of taste far superior to that of ladies who fancy nothing becoming unless brought from Paris. “Ah!” sighed another, “with such personal attractions, Mademoiselle has little need to trouble herself about fashions.”—“No,” said Jaqueline; “that’s the mantua-makers’ and milliners’ business, not mine; I never trouble my head about such things, not I.”—“What elevation of mind!” exclaimed the Comte.—“How infinitely above vulgar prejudices!” ejaculated one of his companions; and the rest expressed their admiration by the epithets “charming,” “admirable,” &c. &c. In short, everything she uttered was declared to be replete with wit or sentiment; and the result was, that by the time she had finished a very hearty déjeuné à la fourchette, she began to question whether she really might not possess certain endowments for which she had never previously given herself credit, and had not quite decided, when the Comte contrived to draw her attention toward a window, and so have her to himself. He then, without loss of time, made her a regular offer of himself, his chateau, and his fortune; and Jaqueline replied with a sigh, “I don’t think I shall do for you, nor you for me; but, howsomever, I can’t say nothing more about it without asking my father.”
“I’ll ask him!” exclaimed the enraptured Comte; “I’ll ride over to him directly. I’ll bring him back to dinner. We have a priest in the chateau,” and he knelt and pressed her hand to his lips.
“Well, upon my word!” said Jaqueline, “some people fancy they’ve only to ask and have. Just as if my father would give me away like a bunch of grapes.”