Collected works of eugen.., p.567
Collected Works of Eugène Sue, page 567
“Monsieur!” exclaimed M. de Mornand, vehemently.
“Permit me to give you an example,” continued the marquis in the same airy tone, “I just asked you to do me the favour to act as my vis-à-vis. Ah, well, instead of answering, ‘Yes, monsieur,’ or ‘No, monsieur,’ in a polite manner, you respond in a voice choked with laughter, ‘Your request for me to act as your vis-à-vis is very remarkable.’ And when I ask you to finish the sentence, you hesitate and stammer and say nothing.”
“But, monsieur—”
“But, monsieur,” hastily exclaimed the hunchback, interrupting his companion afresh; “if, instead of being polite, you are disposed to enjoy yourself at my expense, you ought to say something decidedly impertinent, as, for example: ‘M. de Maillefort, I have a horror of deformities and really cannot bear the idea of seeing you dance;’ or ‘Really, M. de Maillefort, I have too much pride to show myself in the back to back figure with you.’ So you see, my dear M. de Mornand,” continued the hunchback, with increasing jovialness, “that, as I can ridicule myself better than any one else can, I am perfectly right not to allow any one else to do clumsily what I can do so admirably myself.”
“You say that you will not allow,” began M. de Mornand, impatiently —
“Come, come, Mornand, this is all nonsense,” exclaimed Ravil. “And, you, marquis, are much too sensible a man—”
“That is not the question,” replied Mornand, hotly. “This gentleman says he will not allow—”
“Any person to ridicule me,” interrupted the marquis. “No, I will not tolerate it for a single instant; I repeat it.”
“But Mornand certainly never thought for a single instant of ridiculing you, I am sure, marquis,” cried Ravil.
“Is that true, baron?”
“Yes, certainly, certainly.”
“Then the gentleman will do me the favour to explain what he meant by his reply.”
“That is very simple. I will volunteer—”
“My dear Ravil,” interposed M. de Mornand, firmly, “you are going entirely too far. As M. de Maillefort descends to sarcasm and threats, I deem it proper to refuse him any explanation whatever, and M. de Maillefort is at perfect liberty to impute any meaning he pleases to my words.”
“Impute any meaning to your words?” exclaimed the hunchback, laughing. “Really, I could not take any such task as that upon myself. That is the business of your honourable colleagues in the Chamber of Peers when you treat them to one of those superb speeches — which you alone have the ability to understand—”
“Let us put an end to this,” exclaimed M. de Mornand, exasperated beyond endurance. “Consider my words as insulting as any words could possibly be, monsieur.”
“You are mad,” cried Ravil. “All this is, or will be, supremely ridiculous if taken seriously.”
“You are right, my poor baron,” said the marquis, with a contrite air; “it will become supremely ridiculous as you say, but, monsieur, see what a good fellow I am, I will be content with the following apology made verbally by M. de Mornand in the presence of three or four witnesses of my own choosing: ‘M. le Marquis de Maillefort, I very humbly and contritely ask your pardon for having dared—’”
“Enough, monsieur!” exclaimed M. de Mornand. “You must believe me either a coward or an egregious fool.”
“So you refuse the reparation I demand?” asked the marquis; “you refuse it, absolutely?”
“Absolutely, monsieur, absolutely.”
“Then I feel obliged to terminate this interview as I began it, by again having the honour to say to you: ‘Will you do me the favour to act as my vis-à-vis?’”
“What, monsieur, as your vis-à-vis?” repeated M. de Mornand, in profound astonishment.
“My vis-à-vis in a danse à deux,” added the hunchback, with a meaning gesture. “Do you understand me?”
“A duel — with you?” cried M. de Mornand, who, in his first transport of anger, had forgotten the high social position of the hunchback, and the ridicule which would be heaped upon him if he engaged in a personal encounter with such an adversary. “A duel with you, monsieur? Really—”
“Are you going to plead as an excuse that such a position would be too — too remarkable or too dangerous, as your friend Ravil would say?”
“No, monsieur, I do not consider it too dangerous — but too ridiculous.”
“Yes, frightfully ridiculous to you, as I remarked to your honest friend here a moment ago.”
“Really, gentlemen,” exclaimed Ravil, “I will never permit—”
Then seeing Gerald de Senneterre passing through the garden, he added:
“Here comes the Duc de Senneterre, the son of the house. I shall ask him to assist me in putting a stop to this foolish quarrel.”
“Yes, gentlemen, the duke’s coming is most opportune,” replied the hunchback. And turning towards the young man, he called out:
“Gerald, my friend, we need your assistance.”
“What is the matter, marquis?” asked Gerald, in a manner that was both deferential and affectionate.
“Have you any cigars?”
“Plenty of them, marquis.”
“Well, my dear Gerald, these gentlemen and I are dying to smoke. Won’t you take us up to your rooms?”
“Certainly,” replied Gerald, gaily. “I have no engagement for this dance, so I have a quarter of an hour at my disposal.”
“That is all the time we shall need,” said the hunchback, with a meaning look at Mornand and Ravil. “Come, gentlemen,” he added, taking Gerald’s arm and walking on ahead of the future minister and his friend.
A minute or two afterwards the four gentlemen reached Gerald’s apartments, which consisted of three rooms, — one, extremely large, on the third floor of the house.
The young duke having politely begged Messieurs de Mornand and de Ravil to pass in first, M. de Maillefort, locking the door and slipping the key in his pocket, remarked to Gerald:
“Allow me, my friend.”
“But why do you lock the door, M. le marquis,” asked Gerald, greatly surprised.
“So we shall not be disturbed,” answered the hunchback, “but be able to smoke in peace.”
“You are certainly a very cautious man, M. le marquis,” said Gerald, laughing, as he ushered the party into the furthermost room, which, being much larger than the others, served both as a sitting-room and study for the young duke.
Upon one of the panels in this room hung a large shield covered with crimson velvet, on which quite a number of weapons were displayed.
CHAPTER VI.
THE DUEL.
ON SEEING THE Marquis de Maillefort lock the door of the apartment, M. de Mornand partially divined the hunchback’s intentions, and any lingering doubts he may have felt were promptly dispelled when the marquis untied his cravat and hastily divested himself of both coat and waistcoat, to the great astonishment of Gerald, who had just turned to approach him with an open box of cigars in his hand.
Almost at the same instant, the marquis, pointing to two swords hanging with the other weapons on the shield, said to the young man:
“My dear Gerald, have the goodness to measure those swords with M. de Ravil, and give the longest to my adversary if there is any difference in them. You know the proverb, ‘Hunchbacks have long arms.’”
“What!” exclaimed Gerald, in profound astonishment, “those swords?”
“Certainly, my friend. This is the situation in two words. That gentleman (pointing to Mornand) has just been extremely impertinent to me. He refused to apologise, and the time has now passed when I would accept any apology, even if he would consent to make it. There is consequently nothing for us to do but fight. You will act as my second; M. de Ravil will act in the same capacity for M. de Mornand, and we will settle our differences here and now.”
Then, turning to his antagonist, the marquis added:
“Come, monsieur, off with your coat. Gerald has only a quarter of an hour to spare, and we must make the most of it.”
“What a pity Olivier could not witness this scene!” thought Gerald, who had recovered from his astonishment, and who now began to regard the adventure as extremely piquant, the more so as he had very little sympathy for Messieurs Mornand and Ravil, and a very warm affection for the marquis.
But though the hunchback had made this open declaration of war, M. de Ravil turned to Gerald, and said, in a tone of profound conviction:
“You must feel that such a duel as this is entirely out of the question, M. le duc?”
“And why, monsieur?” inquired Gerald, dryly.
“Thanks, Gerald,” exclaimed the marquis. “The swords, my friend, quick, the swords!”
“But think of permitting such an encounter in your mother’s house! It must not be, M. le duc. Think of it, a duel, in a room in your house, and for the most trivial cause,” insisted Ravil, as he saw Gerald walk to the panel and take down the swords.
“I consider myself the sole judge of the propriety of what occurs in my apartments,” retorted Gerald. “There are numerous instances of similar duels, are there not, M. de Mornand?”
“Any place is suitable for avenging an affront, M. le duc,” was the prompt and angry reply.
“Bravo! the Cid never made a better retort!” exclaimed the hunchback. “Come, my dear M. de Mornand, off with your coat! It is hardly fair that I, who am not exactly modelled after the Apollo Belvedere, should be the first to strip.”
M. de Mornand, at his wit’s end, pulled off his coat.
“I absolutely refuse to act as second in such a duel,” shouted M. de Ravil.
“You can do as you please about that,” responded the hunchback. “I have the key of the door in my pocket, but you can look out of the window, or beat a tattoo upon the pane, if you prefer. That little act of bravado might have a good effect on M. de Mornand, perhaps.”
“De Ravil, measure the swords, I beg of you,” cried the other principal in the affair.
“You insist?”
“I do.”
“So be it, — but you are mad.”
Then, turning to Gerald, he added, “You are taking a great responsibility upon yourself, monsieur.”
“That will do, monsieur,” replied Gerald, coldly.
The proverb the marquis had quoted seemed a true one, for, when that gentleman rolled his shirt-sleeve up above his elbow, there was disclosed to view a long, thin, but sinewy arm, upon which the muscles stood out like whipcords, while his opponent’s arm was plump and soft.
The outcome of the encounter was apparent from the manner in which the antagonists fell into position, and in which they crossed blades, when Gerald, after having exchanged glances with Ravil, gave the signal for the combat to begin.
Not that M. de Mornand evinced any signs of cowardice! On the contrary, he manifested the courage which any well-bred man is almost sure to display, but he was unmistakably nervous, and, though he showed a fair knowledge of fencing, his play was characterised by excessive prudence. He held himself out of reach as much as possible, and always upon the defensive, parrying his antagonist’s thrusts skilfully enough, but never attacking.
“Ran His Blade Through His Antagonist’s Right Arm”
For a single instant Ravil, and even Gerald, were terrified at the expression of ferocious hatred that overspread the features of the marquis when he confronted his adversary, but, suddenly recovering himself, he became the same gay, mocking cynic as at the beginning of this strange scene, and, as the look of sullen rage he had concentrated upon M. de Mornand softened, his thrusts became less violent and murderous, and, at last, wishing doubtless to end the affair, he made a feint. M. de Mornand responded ingenuously, whereupon his opponent, with a quick, upward thrust, ran his blade through his antagonist’s right arm.
At the sight of blood, Gerald and Ravil both sprang forward, exclaiming:
“Enough, gentlemen, enough!”
Both men lowered their swords on hearing this exclamation, and the marquis said, in a clear voice:
“I declare myself satisfied; I will even humbly beg your pardon — for being a hunchback, M. de Mornand. It is the only excuse I can reasonably offer you.”
“It is sufficient, monsieur,” said M. de Mornand, with a bitter smile, while Gerald and De Ravil bound up the wounded arm with the aid of a handkerchief.
This done, the two men re-dressed themselves, after which M. de Maillefort said to M. de Mornand:
“Will you grant me the favour of a moment’s conversation in another room?”
“I am at your service.”
“Will you permit it, Gerald?”
“Certainly,” replied the young duke.
The two gentlemen having stepped into Gerald’s bedroom, the hunchback said, in his usual mocking way:
“Though it may be in very poor taste to speak of one’s generosity, my dear sir, I am obliged to admit that for a minute or two I felt strongly inclined to kill you, and that it would have been a very easy matter for me to do it.”
“You should have availed yourself of the opportunity, monsieur.”
“But I reflected—”
“And with what object?”
“You will excuse me, I am sure, for not opening my whole heart to you, but permit me to beg that you will consider the slight wound you have just received merely an aid to memory.”
“I do not understand you in the least, monsieur.”
“You know, of course, that one often places a bit of paper in one’s snuff-box, or ties a knot in the corner of one’s handkerchief, to remind one of a rendezvous or a promise.”
“Yes, monsieur; and what of it, may I ask?”
“I am strongly in hopes that the slight wound which I have just given you in the arm will serve as such an effectual reminder that the date of this little episode will never be effaced from your memory.”
“And why are you so desirous that this date should be indelibly engraved upon my memory?”
“The explanation is very simple. I wish to fix the date in your memory in an ineffaceable manner, — because it is quite possible that I shall some time have occasion to remind you of all you have said this afternoon.”
“Remind me of all I have said this afternoon?”
“Yes, monsieur, and in the presence of irrefutable witnesses that I shall summon in case of need.”
“I understand you less and less, monsieur.”
“I see no particular advantage in your understanding me any better just at this time, my dear sir, so you must permit me to take leave of you, and go and bid my friend Gerald good-bye.”
It is easy to comprehend that the real cause of M. de Maillefort’s challenge to M. de Mornand was the insulting manner in which that gentleman had spoken of Madame de Beaumesnil, for the latter’s suspicions were correct, and it was the hunchback who, unseen, had cried, “Scoundrel!” on hearing M. de Mornand’s coarse words.
But why had M. de Maillefort, who was usually so frank and outspoken, taken this roundabout way to secure a pretext for avenging the insult offered to Madame de Beaumesnil? And what could be his object in wishing to remind M. de Mornand of this special day, and in perhaps calling him to account for all he had just said in the presence of reliable witnesses?
These questions will be satisfactorily answered as the story proceeds.
The Marquis de Maillefort had just bidden Gerald good-bye, when one of the servants brought the young duke the following letter, written by Olivier that same morning.
“My good Gerald:— ‘Man proposes and God disposes,’ and last night, Providence, in the shape of my worthy master mason, decided that I must absent myself from Paris for a fortnight or three weeks, and I am truly sorry, for there can be no repetition of our pleasant dinner-party of yesterday for a long time to come.
“The fact is, my master mason is a very poor arithmetician, and he has become so mixed up in his specifications for some work he is to do in a château near Luzarches that it is impossible for me to make head or tail of his figures. For me to be able to cast any light on this portentous gloom, I shall be obliged to go through a host of measurements which I shall have to take myself, if I would avoid more puzzles, and this will necessitate a prolonged absence, I fear. I never told you, did I? that my master mason was formerly a sergeant in the engineer corps, a brave, honest, plain, kind-hearted man, and you know that life with people of that sort is easy and pleasant. One of my chief reasons, too, for going to his assistance is that, so far as I am able to judge, he is cheating himself badly, — such a rare thing in these days that I shall not be sorry to verify the fact.
“I leave my uncle — what a heart of gold he has, hasn’t he? — with no little anxiety. Ever since Madame Barbançon was brought back to us in Madame de Beaumesnil’s superb equipage she has been in a truly alarming frame of mind, and I tremble for my uncle’s digestion. She has not so much as mentioned Bonaparte’s name, and seems to be in a brown study all the time, — pauses thoughtfully in the garden, and every now and then stands stock-still in her kitchen with eyes fixed upon vacancy. She gave us sour milk this morning, and the eggs were like leather. So take heed, my dear Gerald, if you should happen to drop in at meal-time. It is evident, too, that Madame Barbançon is burning with a desire to be questioned concerning the particulars of her recent visit, but very naturally my uncle and I avoid the subject, as there is really something strange and even incomprehensible about the affair.
“If you have time, drop in and see my uncle. It would please him very much, for he will miss me sadly, I fear, and he has taken a great fancy to you. What ineffable kindness of heart and unswerving uprightness of soul are concealed beneath his plain exterior! Ah, my dear Gerald, I have never craved wealth for myself, but I tremble to think that, at his age and with his infirmities, my uncle will have more and more difficulty in living on his modest pay, in spite of all the little privations he endures so courageously. And if he should become really ill, — for two of his wounds reopen frequently, — sickness is so hard upon the poor? Ah, Gerald, the thought is a cruel one to me.
