A Start in Life [47]
Joseph to
Leon.
"Merely a joke made in travelling," replied Joseph, who wanted to save
Oscar's feelings out of pity.
"The boy just wanted to be funny like the rest of us, and he blagued,
that's all," said Mistigris.
"Madame," said Rosalie, returning to the door of the salon, "his
Excellency has ordered dinner for eight, and wants it served at six
o'clock. What are we to do?"
During Estelle's conference with her head-woman the two artists and
Oscar looked at each other in consternation; their glances were
expressive of terrible apprehension.
"His Excellency! who is he?" said Joseph Bridau.
"Why, Monsieur le Comte de Serizy, of course," replied little Moreau.
"Could it have been the count in the coucou?" said Leon de Lora.
"Oh!" exclaimed Oscar, "the Comte de Serizy always travels in his own
carriage with four horses."
"How did the Comte de Serizy get here?" said the painter to Madame
Moreau, when she returned, much discomfited, to the salon.
"I am sure I do not know," she said. "I cannot explain to myself this
sudden arrival; nor do I know what has brought him-- And Moreau not
here!"
"His Excellency wishes Monsieur Schinner to come over to the chateau,"
said the gardener, coming to the door of the salon. "And he begs
Monsieur Schinner to give him the pleasure to dine with him; also
Monsieur Mistigris."
"Done for!" cried the rapin, laughing. "He whom we took for a
bourgeois in the coucou was the count. You may well say: 'Sour are the
curses of perversity.'"
Oscar was very nearly changed to a pillar of salt; for, at this
revelation, his throat felt saltier than the sea.
"And you, who talked to him about his wife's lovers and his skin
diseases!" said Mistigris, turning on Oscar.
"What does he mean?" exclaimed the steward's wife, gazing after the
two artists, who went away laughing at the expression of Oscar's face.
Oscar remained dumb, confounded, stupefied, hearing nothing, though
Madame Moreau questioned him and shook him violently by his arm, which
she caught and squeezed. She gained nothing, however, and was forced
to leave him in the salon without an answer, for Rosalie appeared
again, to ask for linen and silver, and to beg she would go herself
and see that the multiplied orders of the count were executed. All the
household, together with the gardeners and the concierge and his wife,
were going and coming in a confusion that may readily be imagined. The
master had fallen upon his own house like a bombshell.
From the top of the hill near La Cave, where he left the coach, the
count had gone, by the path through the woods well-known to him, to
the house of his gamekeeper. The keeper was amazed when he saw his
real master.
"Is Moreau here?" said the count. "I see his horse."
"No, monseigneur; he means to go to Moulineaux before dinner, and he
has left his horse here while he went to the chateau to give a few
orders."
"If you value your place," said the count, "you will take that horse
and ride at once to Beaumont, where you will deliver to Monsieur
Margueron the note that I shall now write."
So saying the count entered the keeper's lodge and wrote a line,
folding it in a way impossible to open without detection, and gave it
to the man as soon as he saw him in the saddle.
"Not a word to any one," he said, "and as for you, madame," he added
to the gamekeeper's wife, "if Moreau comes back for his horse, tell
him merely that I have taken it."
The count then crossed the park and entered the court-yard of the
chateau through the iron gates. However worn-out a man may be by the
wear and tear of public life, by his own emotions, by his own mistakes
and disappointments, the soul of any man able to love deeply at the
count's age is still young and sensitive to treachery. Monsieur de
Serizy had felt such pain at the thought that Moreau had deceived
Leon.
"Merely a joke made in travelling," replied Joseph, who wanted to save
Oscar's feelings out of pity.
"The boy just wanted to be funny like the rest of us, and he blagued,
that's all," said Mistigris.
"Madame," said Rosalie, returning to the door of the salon, "his
Excellency has ordered dinner for eight, and wants it served at six
o'clock. What are we to do?"
During Estelle's conference with her head-woman the two artists and
Oscar looked at each other in consternation; their glances were
expressive of terrible apprehension.
"His Excellency! who is he?" said Joseph Bridau.
"Why, Monsieur le Comte de Serizy, of course," replied little Moreau.
"Could it have been the count in the coucou?" said Leon de Lora.
"Oh!" exclaimed Oscar, "the Comte de Serizy always travels in his own
carriage with four horses."
"How did the Comte de Serizy get here?" said the painter to Madame
Moreau, when she returned, much discomfited, to the salon.
"I am sure I do not know," she said. "I cannot explain to myself this
sudden arrival; nor do I know what has brought him-- And Moreau not
here!"
"His Excellency wishes Monsieur Schinner to come over to the chateau,"
said the gardener, coming to the door of the salon. "And he begs
Monsieur Schinner to give him the pleasure to dine with him; also
Monsieur Mistigris."
"Done for!" cried the rapin, laughing. "He whom we took for a
bourgeois in the coucou was the count. You may well say: 'Sour are the
curses of perversity.'"
Oscar was very nearly changed to a pillar of salt; for, at this
revelation, his throat felt saltier than the sea.
"And you, who talked to him about his wife's lovers and his skin
diseases!" said Mistigris, turning on Oscar.
"What does he mean?" exclaimed the steward's wife, gazing after the
two artists, who went away laughing at the expression of Oscar's face.
Oscar remained dumb, confounded, stupefied, hearing nothing, though
Madame Moreau questioned him and shook him violently by his arm, which
she caught and squeezed. She gained nothing, however, and was forced
to leave him in the salon without an answer, for Rosalie appeared
again, to ask for linen and silver, and to beg she would go herself
and see that the multiplied orders of the count were executed. All the
household, together with the gardeners and the concierge and his wife,
were going and coming in a confusion that may readily be imagined. The
master had fallen upon his own house like a bombshell.
From the top of the hill near La Cave, where he left the coach, the
count had gone, by the path through the woods well-known to him, to
the house of his gamekeeper. The keeper was amazed when he saw his
real master.
"Is Moreau here?" said the count. "I see his horse."
"No, monseigneur; he means to go to Moulineaux before dinner, and he
has left his horse here while he went to the chateau to give a few
orders."
"If you value your place," said the count, "you will take that horse
and ride at once to Beaumont, where you will deliver to Monsieur
Margueron the note that I shall now write."
So saying the count entered the keeper's lodge and wrote a line,
folding it in a way impossible to open without detection, and gave it
to the man as soon as he saw him in the saddle.
"Not a word to any one," he said, "and as for you, madame," he added
to the gamekeeper's wife, "if Moreau comes back for his horse, tell
him merely that I have taken it."
The count then crossed the park and entered the court-yard of the
chateau through the iron gates. However worn-out a man may be by the
wear and tear of public life, by his own emotions, by his own mistakes
and disappointments, the soul of any man able to love deeply at the
count's age is still young and sensitive to treachery. Monsieur de
Serizy had felt such pain at the thought that Moreau had deceived