A Start in Life [48]
him,
that even after hearing the conversation at Saint-Brice he thought him
less an accomplice of Leger and the notary than their tool. On the
threshold of the inn, and while that conversation was still going on,
he thought of pardoning his steward after giving him a good reproof.
Strange to say, the dishonesty of his confidential agent occupied his
mind as a mere episode from the moment when Oscar revealed his
infirmities. Secrets so carefully guarded could only have been
revealed by Moreau, who had, no doubt, laughed over the hidden
troubles of his benefactor with either Madame de Serizy's former maid
or with the Aspasia of the Directory.
As he walked along the wood-path, this peer of France, this statesman,
wept as young men weep; he wept his last tears. All human feelings
were so cruelly hurt by one stroke that the usually calm man staggered
through his park like a wounded deer.
When Moreau arrived at the gamekeeper's lodge and asked for his horse,
the keeper's wife replied:--
"Monsieur le comte has just taken it."
"Monsieur le comte!" cried Moreau. "Whom do you mean?"
"Why, the Comte de Serizy, our master," she replied. "He is probably
at the chateau by this time," she added, anxious to be rid of the
steward, who, unable to understand the meaning of her words, turned
back towards the chateau.
But he presently turned again and came back to the lodge, intending to
question the woman more closely; for he began to see something serious
in this secret arrival, and the apparently strange method of his
master's return. But the wife of the gamekeeper, alarmed to find
herself caught in a vise between the count and his steward, had locked
herself into the house, resolved not to open to any but her husband.
Moreau, more and more uneasy, ran rapidly, in spite of his boots and
spurs, to the chateau, where he was told that the count was dressing.
"Seven persons invited to dinner!" cried Rosalie as soon as she saw
him.
Moreau then went through the offices to his own house. On his way he
met the poultry-girl, who was having an altercation with a handsome
young man.
"Monsieur le comte particularly told me a colonel, an aide-de-camp of
Mina," insisted the girl.
"I am not a colonel," replied Georges.
"But isn't your name Georges?"
"What's all this?" said the steward, intervening.
"Monsieur, my name is Georges Marest; I am the son of a rich wholesale
ironmonger in the rue Saint-Martin; I come on business to Monsieur le
Comte de Serizy from Maitre Crottat, a notary, whose second clerk I
am."
"And I," said the girl, "am telling him that monseigneur said to me:
'There'll come a colonel named Czerni-Georges, aide-de-camp to Mina;
he'll come by Pierrotin's coach; if he asks for me show him into the
waiting-room.'"
"Evidently," said the clerk, "the count is a traveller who came down
with us in Pierrotin's coucou; if it hadn't been for the politeness of
a young man he'd have come as a rabbit."
"A rabbit! in Pierrotin's coucou!" exclaimed Moreau and the poultry-
girl together.
"I am sure of it, from what this girl is now saying," said Georges.
"How so?" asked the steward.
"Ah! that's the point," cried the clerk. "To hoax the travellers and
have a bit of fun I told them a lot of stuff about Egypt and Greece
and Spain. As I happened to be wearing spurs I have myself out for a
colonel of cavalry: pure nonsense!"
"Tell me," said Moreau, "what did this traveller you take to be
Monsieur le comte look like?"
"Face like a brick," said Georges, "hair snow-white, and black
eyebrows."
"That is he!"
"Then I'm lost!" exclaimed Georges.
"Why?"
"Oh, I chaffed him about his decorations."
"Pooh! he's a good fellow; you probably amused him. Come at once to
the chateau. I'll go in and see his Excellency. Where did you say he
left the coach?"
"At the
that even after hearing the conversation at Saint-Brice he thought him
less an accomplice of Leger and the notary than their tool. On the
threshold of the inn, and while that conversation was still going on,
he thought of pardoning his steward after giving him a good reproof.
Strange to say, the dishonesty of his confidential agent occupied his
mind as a mere episode from the moment when Oscar revealed his
infirmities. Secrets so carefully guarded could only have been
revealed by Moreau, who had, no doubt, laughed over the hidden
troubles of his benefactor with either Madame de Serizy's former maid
or with the Aspasia of the Directory.
As he walked along the wood-path, this peer of France, this statesman,
wept as young men weep; he wept his last tears. All human feelings
were so cruelly hurt by one stroke that the usually calm man staggered
through his park like a wounded deer.
When Moreau arrived at the gamekeeper's lodge and asked for his horse,
the keeper's wife replied:--
"Monsieur le comte has just taken it."
"Monsieur le comte!" cried Moreau. "Whom do you mean?"
"Why, the Comte de Serizy, our master," she replied. "He is probably
at the chateau by this time," she added, anxious to be rid of the
steward, who, unable to understand the meaning of her words, turned
back towards the chateau.
But he presently turned again and came back to the lodge, intending to
question the woman more closely; for he began to see something serious
in this secret arrival, and the apparently strange method of his
master's return. But the wife of the gamekeeper, alarmed to find
herself caught in a vise between the count and his steward, had locked
herself into the house, resolved not to open to any but her husband.
Moreau, more and more uneasy, ran rapidly, in spite of his boots and
spurs, to the chateau, where he was told that the count was dressing.
"Seven persons invited to dinner!" cried Rosalie as soon as she saw
him.
Moreau then went through the offices to his own house. On his way he
met the poultry-girl, who was having an altercation with a handsome
young man.
"Monsieur le comte particularly told me a colonel, an aide-de-camp of
Mina," insisted the girl.
"I am not a colonel," replied Georges.
"But isn't your name Georges?"
"What's all this?" said the steward, intervening.
"Monsieur, my name is Georges Marest; I am the son of a rich wholesale
ironmonger in the rue Saint-Martin; I come on business to Monsieur le
Comte de Serizy from Maitre Crottat, a notary, whose second clerk I
am."
"And I," said the girl, "am telling him that monseigneur said to me:
'There'll come a colonel named Czerni-Georges, aide-de-camp to Mina;
he'll come by Pierrotin's coach; if he asks for me show him into the
waiting-room.'"
"Evidently," said the clerk, "the count is a traveller who came down
with us in Pierrotin's coucou; if it hadn't been for the politeness of
a young man he'd have come as a rabbit."
"A rabbit! in Pierrotin's coucou!" exclaimed Moreau and the poultry-
girl together.
"I am sure of it, from what this girl is now saying," said Georges.
"How so?" asked the steward.
"Ah! that's the point," cried the clerk. "To hoax the travellers and
have a bit of fun I told them a lot of stuff about Egypt and Greece
and Spain. As I happened to be wearing spurs I have myself out for a
colonel of cavalry: pure nonsense!"
"Tell me," said Moreau, "what did this traveller you take to be
Monsieur le comte look like?"
"Face like a brick," said Georges, "hair snow-white, and black
eyebrows."
"That is he!"
"Then I'm lost!" exclaimed Georges.
"Why?"
"Oh, I chaffed him about his decorations."
"Pooh! he's a good fellow; you probably amused him. Come at once to
the chateau. I'll go in and see his Excellency. Where did you say he
left the coach?"
"At the