The Deputy of Arcis

VIII

THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE TO MADAME OCTAVE DE CAMPS

April, 1839.

For the last two weeks we have heard nothing more of Monsieur Dorlange.  Not only has he not seen fit to renew the conversation so provokingly interrupted by Madame de la Bastie, but he has not even remembered that it was proper to leave his card at the house after a dinner.

While we were breakfasting yesterday morning, I happened to make this remark (though without any sharpness), and just then our Lucas, who, as an old servant, sometimes allows himself a little familiarity, had the door swung triumphantly open to admit him, bearing something, I knew not what, wrapped in tissue paper, which he deposited with great care on the table, giving a note to Monsieur de l’Estorade at the same time.

“What is that?” I said to Lucas, on whose face I detected the signs of a “surprise,” at the same time putting out my hand to uncover the mysterious article.

“Oh! madame must be careful!” cried Lucas; “it is fragile.”

During this time my husband had read the note, which he now passed to me, saying:—­

“Read it.  Monsieur Dorlange sends us an excuse.”

The note said:—­

Monsieur le Comte,—­I think I observed that Madame la comtesse granted me rather reluctantly her permission to profit by the audacious larceny I committed at her expense.  I have, therefore, taken upon myself to change the character of my statue, and, at the present moment, the two sisters no longer resemble each other.  Nevertheless, as I did not wish that all should be lost to the world, I modelled the head of Saint-Ursula before retouching it.  From that model I have now made a reduction, which I place upon the charming shoulders of a countess not yet canonized, thank God!  The mould was broken as soon as the one cast, which I have now the honor of sending you, was made.  This fact may, perhaps, give some little additional value to the bust in your eyes.

  Accept, Monsieur le comte, etc., etc.

While I was reading the note, my husband, Lucas, Rene, and Nais had eagerly extracted me from my swathings, and then, in truth, I appeared no longer a saint, but a woman of the world.  I really thought my husband and children would go out of their minds with admiration and pleasure.  The news of this masterpiece spread about the house, and all our servants, whom we rather spoil, came flocking, one after another, as if sent for, crying out, “Oh, it is madame’s own self!” I alone did not share in the general enthusiasm.  As for Monsieur de l’Estorade, after working for an hour to find a place in his study where the bust could be seen in its best light, he came in to say to me:—­

“On my way to the Treasury to-day I shall go and see Monsieur Dorlange, and if he is at liberty this evening I shall ask him to dine with us.  To-day is Armand’s half-holiday, and I would like him to see the boy.  The assembled family can then thank him for his gift.”

Monsieur Dorlange accepted the invitation.  At dinner Monsieur de l’Estorade inquired further about his candidacy, giving it however, no approval.  This led straight to politics.  Armand, whose mind is naturally grave and reflective and who reads the newspapers, mingled in the conversation.  Against the practice of youths of the present day, he thinks like his father; that is, he is very conservative; though perhaps less just and wise, as might well be expected in a lad of fifteen.  He was consequently led to contradict Monsieur Dorlange, whose inclination as I told you, is somewhat jacobin.  And I must say I thought the arguments of my little man neither bad nor ill-expressed.  Without ceasing to be polite, Monsieur Dorlange had an air of disdaining a discussion with the poor boy, so much so that I saw Armand on the point of losing patience and replying sharply.  However, as he has been well brought up, I had only to make him a sign and he controlled himself; but seeing him turn scarlet and shut himself up in gloomy silence, I felt that his pride had received a blow, and I thought it little generous in Monsieur Dorlange to crush a young lad in that way.

I know very well that children in these days make the mistake of wishing to be personages before their time, and that it often does them good to suppress such conceit.  But really, Armand has an intellectual development and a power of reasoning beyond his age.  Do you want a proof of it?  Until last year, I had never consented to part with him, and it was only as a day scholar that he followed his course of study at the College Henri IV.  Well, he himself, for the sake of his studies, which were hindered by going and coming to and fro, asked to be placed in the regular manner in the school; and he employed more entreaties and arguments with me to put him under that discipline than an ordinary boy would have used to escape it.  Therefore this manly air and manner, which in most schoolboys would, of course, be intolerably ridiculous, seems in him the result of his natural precocity; and this precocity ought to be forgiven him, inasmuch as it comes to him from God.

In consequence of his unfortunate birth Monsieur Dorlange is less fitted than most men to judge of children in their homes, and he therefore, necessarily, shows a want of indulgence.  But he had better take care; if he wishes to pay court to me merely as a friend he has chosen a very bad method of doing so.

Of course an evening in the midst of the family did not allow of his returning to the subject of his private history; but I thought he did not show any particular desire to do so.  In fact, he occupied himself much more with Nais than with me, cutting out silhouettes in black paper for her during nearly the whole evening.  I must also mention that Madame de Rastignac came in and I, on my side, was obliged to give my company to her.  While we were conversing near the fire, Monsieur Dorlange at the other end of the room was posing the two children Nais and Rene, who presently brought me their likenesses snipped out with scissors, Nais whispering triumphantly in my ear:—­

“You don’t know; but Monsieur Dorlange is going to make my bust in marble.”

Since this family dinner, civil war has been declared among my children.  Nais extols to the skies her “dear preserver,” as she calls him, and is supported in her opinion by Rene, who is delivered over to the sculptor body and soul in return for a superb lancer on horseback which Monsieur Dorlange cut out for him.  Armand, on the contrary, thinks him ugly, which is undeniable; he says he resembles the portraits of Danton which he has seen in the illustrated histories of the Revolution, in which remark there is some truth.  He says also that Monsieur Dorlange has given me in my bust the air of a grisette, which is not true at all.  Hence, disputes among my darlings which are endless.