第3章
"Do you know,sir,that you are not very polite?You quitted me abruptly,without taking leave.Your proceedings are singular,and you seem to be a stranger to the first principles of good breeding.""What do you expect,my dear sir?"answered Gilbert."You were so amiable,so prepossessing the first time I had the honor of meeting you,that I was discouraged.I said to myself,that do what Iwould,I should always be in arrears to you.""You are spiteful,Mr.Secretary,"retorted Stephane."What,have you not forgotten that little affair at the spring?""You have taken no trouble,it seems,to make me forget it.""It is true,I was wrong,"replied he with a sneer;"wait a moment,I will dismount,go upon my knees there in the middle of the road,and say to you in dolorous voice,'Sir,I'm grieved,heart-broken,desperate,'--For what?I know not.Tell me,I pray you,sir,for what must I beg your pardon?For if I rightly remember,you commenced by raising your cane to me.
"I did not raise my cane to you,"replied Gilbert,beside himself with indignation;"I contented myself with parrying the blow which you were about to give me.""It was not my intention to strike you,"rejoined Stephane,impetuously."And besides,learn once for all,that between us things are not equal,and that even should I provoke you,you would be a wretch to raise the end of your finger against me.""Oh,that is too much!"cried Gilbert,laughing loudly.
"And why so,my little friend?"
"Because--because--"stammered Stephane;and then suddenly stopped.
An expression of bitter sadness passed over his face;his brows contracted and his eyes became fixed.It was thus that terrible paroxysm had commenced which so alarmed Gilbert at their first meeting.This time,fortunately,the attack was less violent.The good Gilbert passed quickly from anger to pity;"there is a secret wound in that heart,"thought he,and he was still more convinced of it when,after a long pause Stephane,recovering the use of his speech,said to him in a broken voice:"I was ill the other day,Ioften am.People should have some consideration for invalids."Gilbert made no answer;he feared by a hard word to exasperate his soul so passionate,and so little master of itself;but he thought that when Stephane felt ill,he had better stay in his room.
They walked on some moments in silence until,recovering from his dejection,Stephane said ironically:"You made a mistake in leaving the fete so soon.If you had stayed until the end,you would have heard Christ and his mother sing;you lost a charming duet.""Let us drop that subject,"interrupted Gilbert;"we could not understand each other.Yours is a kind of pleasantry for which Ihave but little taste."
"Pedant!"murmured Stephane,turning his head,then adding with animation:"It is just because I respect religion that I do not like to see it burlesqued and parodied.Let a true angel appear and I am ready to render him homage;but I am enraged when I see great seraph's wings tied with white strings to the shoulders of wicked,boorish,little thieves,liars,cowards,slaves,and rascals.Their hypocritical airs do not impose on me,for I read their base natures in their eyes.I detest all affectations,all shams.I have the misfortune of being able to see through all masks.""These are very old words for such very young lips,"answered Gilbert sadly."I suspect,my child,you are repeating a lesson you have learned.""And what do you know of my age?"cried he angrily."By what do you judge?Are faces clocks which mark the hours and minutes of life?Well,yes,I am but sixteen;but I have lived longer than you.I am not a library rat,and have not studied the world in duodecimos.Thank God!for the advancement of my education.He has gathered under my eyes a few specimens of the human race which have enabled me to judge of the rest,and the more experience Igain,the more I am convinced that all men are alike.On that account I scorn them all,--all without exception!""I thank you sincerely for myself and your groom,"answered Gilbert smiling.
"Don't trouble yourself about my groom,"replied Stephane,beating down with his whip the foliage which obstructed his path."In the first place,he knows but little French;and it is useless to tell him in Russian that I despise him,--he would be none the worse for it.He is well lodged,well fed,and well clothed;what matters my scorn to him?And besides,let me tell you for your guidance,that my groom is not a groom,he is my jailer.I am a prisoner under constant surveillance;these woods constitute a yard,where I can walk but twice a week,and this excellent Ivan is my keeper.
Search his pockets and you will find a scourge."Gilbert turned to examine the groom,who answered his scrutinizing look by a jovial and intelligent smile.Ivan represented the type of the Russian serf in all his original beauty.He was small,but vigorous and robust;he had a fresh complexion,cheeks full and rosy,hair of a pale yellow,large soft eyes and a long chestnut beard,in which threads of silver already mingled.It was such a face as one often sees among the lower classes of Slavonians;indicating at once energy in action and placidity in repose.
When Gilbert had looked at him well,he said,"My dear sir,I do not believe in Ivan's scourge.""Ah!that is like you bookworms,"exclaimed Stephane with an angry gesture."You receive all the monstrous nonsense which you find in your old books for Gospel truth,and without any hesitation,while the ordinary matters of life appear to you prodigious absurdities,which you refuse to believe.""Don't be angry.Ivan's scourge is not exactly an article of faith.One can fail to believe in it without being in danger of hell-fire.Besides,I am ready to recant my heresy;but I will confess to you that I find nothing ferocious or stern in the face of this honest servant.At all events,he is a jailer who does not keep his prisoners closely,and who sometimes gives them a relaxation beyond his orders;for the other day,it seems to me,you scoured the country without him,and really the use you make of your liberty--""The other day,"interrupted Stephane,"I did a foolish thing.For the first time I amused myself by evading Ivan's vigilance.It was an effort that I longed to make,but it turned out badly for me.
Would you like to see with your own eyes what this fine exploit cost me?"Then pushing up the right sleeve of his black velvet blouse,he showed Gilbert a thin delicate wrist marked by a red circle,which indicated the prolonged friction of an iron ring.Gilbert could not repress an exclamation of surprise and pity at the sight,and repented his pleasantry.
"I have been chained for a fortnight in a dungeon which I thought Ishould never come out of again,"said Stephane,"and I indulged in a good many reflections there.Ah!you were right when you accused me of repeating a lesson I had learned.The pretty bracelet which I bear on my right arm is my thought-teacher,and if I dared to repeat all that it taught me--"Then interrupting himself:
"A lie!"exclaimed he in a bitter tone,drawing his cap down over his eyes."The truth is,that I came out of the dungeon like a lamb,flexible as a glove,and that I am capable of committing a thousand base acts to save myself the horror of returning there.Iam a coward like the rest,and when I tell you that I despise all men,do not believe that I make an exception in my own favor."And at these words he drove the spurs into his horse's flank so violently that the fiery chestnut,irritated by the rude attack,kicked and pranced.Stephane subdued him by the sole power of his haughty and menacing voice;then exciting him again,he launched him forward at full speed and amused himself by suddenly bringing him up with a jerk of the rein,and by turns making him dance and plunge;then urging him across the road he made him clear at a bound,the ditch and hedge which bordered it.After several minutes of this violent exercise,he trotted away,followed by his inseparable Ivan,leaving Gilbert to his reflections,which were not the most agreeable.
He had experienced in talking with Stephane an uneasiness,a secret trouble which had never oppressed him before.The passionate character of this young man,the rudeness of his manners,in which a free savage grace mingled,the exaggeration of his language,betraying the disorder of an ill-governed mind,the rapidity with which his impressions succeeded each other,the natural sweetness of his voice,the caressing melody of which was disturbed by loud exclamations and rude and harsh accents;his gray eyes turning nearly black and flashing fire in a paroxysm of anger or emotion;the contrast between the nobility and distinction of his face and bearing,and the arrogant scorn of proprieties in which he seemed to delight--in short,some painful mystery written upon his forehead and betrayed in his smile--all gave Gilbert much to speculate upon and troubled him profoundly.The aversion he had at first felt for Stephane had changed to pity since the poor child had shown him the red bracelet,which he called his "thought-teacher,"--but pity without sympathy is a sentiment to which one yields with reluctance.Gilbert reproached himself for taking such a lively interest in this young man who had so little merited his esteem,and more especially as with his pity mingled an indefinable terror or apprehension.In fact,he hardly knew himself;he so calm,so reasonable,to be the victim of such painful presentiments!It seemed to him that Stephane was destined to exercise great influence over his fate,and to bring disorder into his life.
Suddenly,he heard once more the sound of horse's hoofs and Stephane re-appeared.Perceiving Gilbert,the young man stopped his horse and cried out,"Mr.Secretary,I am looking for you."And then,laughing,continued:
"This is a tender avowal I have just made;for believe me,it is years since I have thought of looking for anybody;but as in your estimation I have not been very courteous,and as I pride myself on my good manners,I wish to obtain your pardon by flattering you a little.""This is too much goodness,"answered Gilbert."Don't take the trouble.The best course you can pursue to win my esteem is to trouble yourself about me as little as possible.""And you will do the same in regard to me?""Remember that matters are not equal between us.I am but an insect,--it is easy for you to avoid me,whilst--""You are not talking with common sense,"interrupted Stephane;"look at this green beetle crawling across the road.I see him,but he does not see me.But to drop this bantering--for it's quite out of character with me--what I like in you is your remarkable frankness,it really amuses me.By the way,be good enough to tell me what book that is which never leaves you for a moment and which you ponder over with such intensity.Do tell me,"added he in a coaxing,childish tone,"what is the book that you press to your heart with so much tenderness."Gilbert handed it to him.
"'Essay on the Metamorphosis of Plants.'So,plants have the privilege of changing themselves?Mon Dieu,they must be happy!
But they ought to tell us their secret."
Then closing the volume,and returning it to Gilbert,he exclaimed:
"Happy man!you live among the plants of the field as if in your element.Are you not something of a plant yourself?I am not sure but that you have just now stopped reading to say to the primroses and anemones covering this slope,'I am your brother!'Mon Dieu!Iam sorry to have disturbed the charming conversation!And hold!
your eyes are a little the color of the periwinkle."He turned his head and looked at Gilbert with a scornful air,and had already prepared to leave him,when a glance over the road dispersed his ill-humor,for in the distance he saw Wilhelm and his comrades returning from the fete.
"Come quick,my children,"cried he,rising in his stirrups."Come quick,my lambs,for I have something of the greatest importance to propose to you."Hearing his challenge,the children raised their eyes and recognizing Stephane,they stopped and took counsel together.The somewhat brutal impudence of the young Russian had given him a bad reputation,and the little peasants would rather have turned back than encounter his morose jesting or his terrible whip.
The three apostles and the five angels,after consulting together,concluded prudently to beat a retreat,when Stephane drawing from his pocket a great leather purse,shook it in the air crying,"There is money to be gained here,--come,my dear children,you shall have all you want."The large,full purse which Stephane shook in his hand was a very tempting bait for the eight children;but his whip,which he held under his left arm,warned them to be careful.Hesitating between fear and covetousness,they stood still like the ass in the fable between his two bundles of hay;but Stephane at that moment was seized with a happy inspiration and threw his switch to the top of a neighboring tree,where it rested.This produced a magical effect,the children with one accord deciding to approach him,although with slow and hesitating steps.Wilhelm alone,remembering his recent treatment,darted into a path nearby and disappeared in the bushes.
The troop of children stopped a dozen paces from Stephane and formed in a group,the little ones hiding behind the larger.All of them fumbled nervously with the ends of their belts,and kept their heads down,awkward and ashamed,with eyes fixed upon the ground,but casting sidelong glances at the great leather purse which danced between Stephane's hands.
"You,Saint Peter,"said he to them in a grave tone;"you,Saint John,and your five dear little angels of Heaven,listen to me closely.You have sung to-day very pretty songs in honor of the good Lord;he will reward you some day in the other world;but for the little pleasures people give me,I reward them at once.So every one of you shall have a bright dollar,if you will do the little thing I ask.It is only to kiss delicately and respectfully the toe of my boot.I tell you again,that this little ceremony will gain for each of you a bright dollar,and you will afterwards have the happiness of knowing that you have learned to do something which you can't do too well if you want to get on in this world."The seven children looked at Stephane with a sheepish air and open mouths.Not one of them stirred.Their immobility,and their seven pairs of fixed round eyes directed upon him,provoked him.
"Come,my little lambs,"he continued persuasively,"don't stretch your eyes in this way;they look like barn doors wide open.You should do this bravely and neatly.Ah!mon Dieu!you will see it done often enough,and do it yourselves again too in your lifetime.
There must always be a beginning.Come on,make haste.A thaler is worth thirty-six silbergroschen,and a silbergroschen is worth ten pfennigs,and for five pfennigs you can buy a cake,a hot muffin,or a little man in licorice--"And shaking the leather purse again,he cried:
"Ah,what a pretty sound that makes!How pleasantly the click,click of these coins sounds to our ears.All music is discordant compared to that.Nightingales and thrushes,stop your concerts!
we can sing better than you.I am an artist who plays your favorite air on his violin.Let us open the ball,my darlings."The seven children seemed still uncertain.They were red with excitement,and consulted each other by looks.At last the youngest,a little blond fellow,made up his mind.
"Monsieur HAS ONE CHEVRON TOO MANY,"said he to his companions,which being interpreted means:"Monsieur is a little foolish with pride,his head is turned,he is crack-brained,and,"added he laughingly,"after all,it's only in fun,and there is a dollar to get."So speaking,he approached Stephane deliberately and gave his boot a loud kiss.The ice was broken;all of his companions followed his example,some with a grave and composed air,others laughing till they showed all their teeth.Stephane clapped his hands in triumph:
"Bravo!my dear friends,"exclaimed he."The business went off admirably,charmingly!"Then drawing seven dollars from his purse,he threw them into the road with a scornful gesture:
"Now then,Messrs.Apostles and Seraphim,"cried he in a thundering voice,"pick up your money quick,and scamper away as fast as your legs can carry you.Vile brood,go and tell your mothers by what a glorious exploit you won this prize!
And while the children were moving off,he turned towards Gilbert and said,crossing his arms:"Well,my man of the periwinkles,what do you think of it?"Gilbert had witnessed this little scene with mingled sadness and disgust.He would have given much if only one of the children had resisted Stephane's insolent caprice;but not having this satisfaction,he tried to conceal his chagrin as best he could.
"What does it prove?"replied he dryly.
"It seems to me it proves many things,and among others this:that certain emotions are very ridiculous,and that certain mentors of my acquaintance who thrust their lessons upon others--"He said no more,for at this moment a pebble thrown by a vigorous hand whistled by his ears,and rolled his cap in the dust.
Starting,he uttered an angry cry,and striking spurs into his horse,he launched him at a gallop across the bushes.Gilbert picked up the cap,and handed it to Ivan,who said to him in bad German:
"Pardon him;the poor child is sick,"and then departed hastily in pursuit of his young master.
Gilbert ran after them.When he had overtaken them,Stephane had dismounted,and stood with clenched fists before a child,who,quite out of breath from running,had thrown himself exhausted at the foot of a tree.In running he had torn many holes in his San-benito,and he was looking with mournful eyes at these rents,and replied only in monosyllables to all of Stephane's threats.
"You are at my mercy,"said the young man to him at last."I will forgive you if you ask my pardon on your knees.""I won't do it,"replied the child,getting up."I have no pardon to ask.You struck me with your whip,and I swore to pay you for it.I'm a good shot.I sighted your cap and I was sure I'd hit it.That makes you mad,and now we're even.But I'll promise not to throw any more stones,if you'll promise not to strike me with your whip any more.""That is a very reasonable proposition,"said Gilbert.
"I don't ask your opinion,sir,"interrupted Stephane haughtily,--then turning to Ivan:"Ivan,my dear Ivan,"continued he,"in this matter you ought to obey me.You know very well the Count does not love me,but he does not mean to have others insult me:it is a privilege he reserves to himself.Dismount,and make this little rascal kneel to me and ask my pardon."Ivan shook his head.
"You struck him first,"answered he;"why should he ask your pardon?"In vain Stephane exhausted supplications and threats.The serf remained inflexible,and during his talk Gilbert approached Wilhelm,and said to him in a low voice:
"Run away quickly,my child;but remember your promise;if you don't,you'll have to settle with me."Stephane,seeing him escape,would have started in pursuit;but Gilbert barred his way.
"Ivan!"cried he,wringing his hands,"drive this man out of my path!"Ivan shook his head again.
"I don't wish to harm the young Frenchman,"replied he;"he has a kind way and loves children."Stephane's face was painfully agitated.His lips trembled.He looked with sinister eye first at Ivan,then at Gilbert.At last he said to himself in a stifled voice:
"Wretch that I am!I am as feeble as a worm,and weakness is not respected!"Then lowering his head,he approached his horse,mounted him,and pushed slowly through the copse.When he had regained the wood,looking fixedly at Gilbert:
"Mr.Secretary,"said he,"my father often quotes that diplomatist who said that all men have their price;unfortunately I am not rich enough to buy you;you are worth more than a dollar;but permit me to give you some good advice.When you return to the castle,repeat to Count Kostia certain words that I have allowed to escape me to-day.It will give him infinite pleasure.Perhaps he will make you his spy-in-chief,and without asking it,he may double your salary.The most profitable trade in the world is burning candles on the devil's shrine.You will do wonders in it,as well as others."Upon which,with a profound bow to Gilbert,he disappeared at a full trot.
"The devil!the devil!he talks of nothing but the devil!"said Gilbert to himself,taking the road to the castle."My poor friend,you are condemned to pass some years of your life here between a tyrant who is sometimes amiable,and a victim who is never so at all!"VI
When Gilbert got back to the castle,M.Leminof was walking on the terrace.He perceived his secretary at some distance,and made signs to him to come and join him.They made several turns on the parapet,and while walking,Gilbert studied Stephane's father with still greater attention than he had done before.He was now most forcibly struck by his eyes,of a slightly turbid gray,whose glances,vague,unsteady,indiscernible,became at moments cold and dull as lead.Never had M.Leminof been so amiable to his secretary;he spoke to him playfully,and looked at him with an expression of charming good nature.They had conversed for a quarter of an hour when the sound of a bell gave notice that dinner was served.Count Kostia conducted Gilbert to the dining-room.It was an immense vaulted apartment,wainscoted in black oak,and lighted by three small ogive windows,looking out upon the terrace.
The arches of the ceiling were covered with old apocalyptic paintings,which time had molded and scaled off.In the center could be seen the Lamb with seven horns seated on his throne;and round about him the four-and-twenty elders clothed in white.On the lower parts of the pendentive the paintings were so much damaged that the subjects were hardly recognizable.Here and there could be seen wings of angels,trumpets,arms which had lost their hands,busts from which the head had disappeared,crowns,stars,horses'manes,and dragons'tails.These gloomy relics sometimes formed combinations that were mysterious and ominous.It was a strange decoration for a dining-hall.
At this hour of the day,the three arched windows gave but a dull and scanty light;and more was supplied by three bronze lamps,suspended from the ceiling by iron chains;even their brilliant flames were hardly sufficient to light up the depths of this cavernous hall.Below the three lamps was spread a long table,where twenty guests might easily find room;at one of the rounded ends of this table,three covers and three morocco chairs had been arranged in a semi-circle;at the other end,a solitary cover was placed before a simple wooden stool.The Count seated himself and motioned Gilbert to place himself at his right;then unfolding his napkin,he said harshly to the great German valet de chambre:
"Why are not my son and Father Alexis here yet?Go and find them."Some moments after,the door opened,and Stephane appeared.He crossed the hall,his eyes downcast,and bending over the long thin hand which his father presented to him without looking at him,he touched it slightly with his lips.This mark of filial deference must have cost him much,for he was seized with that nervous trembling to which he was subject when moved by strong emotions.
Gilbert could not help saying to himself:
"My child,the seraphim and apostles are well revenged for the humiliation you inflicted upon them."It seemed as if the young man divined Gilbert's thoughts,for as he raised his head,he launched a ferocious glance at him;then seating himself at his father's left,he remained as motionless as a statue,his eyes fixed upon his plate.Meantime he whom they called Father Alexis did not make his appearance,and the Count,becoming impatient,threw his napkin brusquely upon the table,and rose to go after him;but at this same moment the door opened,and Gilbert saw a bearded face which wore an expression of anxiety and terror.Much heated and out of breath,the priest threw a scrutinizing glance upon his lord and master,and from the Count turned his eyes towards the empty stool,and looked as if he would have given his little finger to be able to reach even that uncomfortable seat without being seen.
"Father Alexis,you forget yourself in your eternal daubs!"exclaimed M.Leminof,reseating himself."You know that I dislike to wait.I profess,it is true,a passionate admiration for the burlesque masterpieces with which you are decorating the walls of my chapel;but I cannot suffer them to annoy me,and I beg you not to sacrifice again the respect you owe me to your foolish passion for those coarse paintings;if you do,I shall some fine morning bury your sublime daubings under a triple coat of whitewash."This reprimand,pronounced in a thundering tone,produced the most unhappy effect upon Father Alexis.His first movement was to raise his eyes and arms toward the arched ceiling where,as if calling the four-and-twenty elders to witness,he exclaimed:
"You hear!The profane dare call them daubs,those incomparable frescoes which will carry down the name of Father Alexis to the latest posterity!"But in the heart of the poor priest terror soon succeeded to indignation.He dropped his arms,and bending down,sunk his head between his shoulders,and tried to make himself as small as possible;much as a frightened turtle draws himself into his shell,and fears that even there he is taking up too much room.