Victor Cherbuliez

“ Moriaz’s doves had their nests. He did not need to look long at this roof to recognise it. He threw a burning kiss in the air—a kiss that was sent to the doves as well as to the dove-cote—to the house as well as to the woman—to the woman as well as the house. For the first time in his life, Samuel Brohl was in love; but Samuel Brohl’s love differed from Abel Larinski’s. When they adore a woman, be she as beautiful as a picture, the frame, if it is a rich one, pleases them as much as the painting; and they propose to possess their mistress with all her appendages and appurtenances. ”

“ Mlle. Moiseney sent forth a doleful cry. M. Moriaz handed her Mme. de Lorcy’s letter; after reading it, she remained in a state of deep dejection; a pitiless finger had burst the iris bubble that she had just blown, and that she saw resplendent at the end of her pipe.
“Do not give way to your despair,” said M. Moriaz; “take courage, follow the example I set you, imitate my resignation. But tell me, how do you think Antoinette will take the matter?”
“It will be a terrible blow to her,” replied Mlle. Moiseney; “she loves him so much!” ”

“ She said to herself: “It is an imprudent act; not only that, it cannot be;” but she also said: “Mlle. Antoinette can no more make a mistake than the Queen of England can; because she wishes it, she is right in wishing it.” Mlle. Moiseney ended by regaining her self-possession; her lips formed the most pleasant smile, as she exclaimed:
“He has no fortune, but he has a beautiful name. Mme. la Comtesse Larinski! it sounds well to the ear.”
“Like music; I grant, it is perfect,” rejoined M. Moriaz. “Unfortunately, music is not everything in the affairs of this world.” ”

“ You are perfectly reasonable. You ought to adore M. Larinski; you are under the greatest obligations to him. He has been the first to succeed in touching the heart of our dear, hitherto insensible girl; he has broken the charm. She was the Sleeping Beauty; he has awakened her, and, through the favour of Heaven, he cannot marry her. I can see her in Churwalden, a prey to the gloomiest ennui, weeping over her illusions, furious at having been deceived. Do you not divine all the advantage that can be derived from a woman’s anger? ”

“ M. Moriaz replied: “The fact is, you come, monsieur, in the words of the evangelist, ‘like a thief in the night’; but I have nothing to refuse you. You are not the son-in-law I frankly avow, whom I should have chosen. This matters not; my daughter belongs to herself, she is mistress of her own actions, and I have no reason to believe that she errs in her choice. You are a man of taste and of honour, and you know the worth of what she has given you. If you render Antoinette happy, you will find in me a warm friend. ”

“ An English poet has said that at times there is revealed to us a glimpse of paradise in a woman’s face, and it was such a rare blessing that was at this moment vouchsafed unto Count Larinski. He was not a romantic man, and yet he remained for some moments motionless, rooted to the spot in admiration. Was it a premonition of his destiny? The fact is that, in beholding for the first time Mlle. Antoinette Moriaz, for it was none other than she who thus riveted his attention, he experienced an inexplicable surprise, a thrilling of the heart, such as he never before had experienced. ”

“ Would you believe that I am beginning to be reconciled to Count Larinski? What shocked me in him is explained and excused by his long residence in America. He is a mixed breed of Yankee and Pole. Far from having prejudices against him, I now have them in his favour. Do you know, I am by no means sure that he cherishes in his heart any serious sentiment for your daughter? As a man of taste he admires her. I should like to know who would not admire her! I suspect Antoinette of allowing her imagination to become excited about nothing. ”

“ The princess rose hastily, remained standing before Mlle. Moriaz, and contemplated her in silence; finally she said, in tones of the most cutting sarcasm: “Ah! you do not believe me, my dear. Decidedly you do not believe me. You are right; you should not put faith in an old woman’s childish chatter. No, my darling, there is no Samuel Brohl: I dined yesterday at Maisons with the most authentic of Counts Larinski, and nothing remains for me to say but to present my best wishes for the certain happiness of the Countess Larinski, et cetera—of the Countess Larinski and company.” ”

“ How, then, had Mme. de Lorcy come to take it into her head that there was something of the appraiser about Samuel Brohl, and that his eyes took an inventory of her furniture? If he had forgotten himself at Maisons, he never forgot himself at Cormeilles. What cared he for the sordid affairs of the sublunary sphere? He floated in ether; heaven had opened to him its portals; the blessed are too absorbed in their ecstasy to pay heed to details or to take an inventory of paradise. ”

“ I have suspected you—you owe Antoinette a grudge. Your wounded vanity never has recovered from her refusal, and you are determined to be revenged. Perhaps you flatter yourself that she will end by loving you. She does not love you, and she never will love you. Who are you, to dare compare yourself with Count Larinski? Be silent! Do I believe in Samuel Brohl? I do not know Samuel Brohl. I venture my head that there is no such person as Samuel Brohl.”
“Not much of a venture, mademoiselle,” replied M. Moriaz, who had arrived in the meantime. ”

“ Count Abel heard a tinkling of bells, and, looking up, he saw approaching a post-chaise, making its way from Engadine to Bergun. It was a large, uncovered berlin, and in it sat a woman of about sixty years of age, accompanied by her attendants and her pug-dog. This woman had rather a bulky head, a long face, a snub-nose, high cheek-bones, a keen, bright eye, a large mouth, about which played a smile, at the same time spirituel, imperious, and contemptuous. Abel grew pale, and became at once convulsed with terror ”

“ To tell the truth, when Count Abel Larinski came to Saint Moritz he was far less occupied with Mlle. Moriaz than with a certain illustrious chemist. The air of the Engadine and the waters that tasted like ink had worked marvels: in a week M. Moriaz felt like a new man. There had come to him a most formidable appetite, and he could walk for hours at a time without becoming weary. He abused his growing strength by constantly strolling through the mountains without a guide, hammer in hand ”

“ The medallion contained the portrait of a woman with blond hair, blue eyes, a refined, lovely mouth, a fragile, delicate being with countenance at the same time sweet and sad, the face of an angel, but an angel who had lived and suffered.
“What an exquisite face!” cried Mlle. Moriaz.
Truly it was exquisite. Some one has asserted that a Polish woman is like punch made with holy-water. One may like neither the punch nor the holy-water, and yet be very fond of Polish women. They form one of the best chapters in the great book of the Creator. ”

“ M. Langis looked at him in amazement, as if to ask for an explanation. M. Moriaz continued: “Do yourself justice. You are the most honest fellow upon earth, I grant; you are a charming man, and an engineer of the highest merit. But, unfortunately, there is no mystery of blood and tears in your existence; you are perfectly unpretending, frank, unaffected, and as transparent as crystal; in short, you are not a stranger. ”

“ What! distrustful of a Pole? take precautions against an antique man?—I quote from Abbe Miollens—against a soul as noble as great? Think what you are doing! At the mere thought of his disinterestedness being called into question, M. Larinski would swoon away as he did in my salon. It is a little way he has, which is most excellent, since it proves successful. Do not think of such trifles as contracts; marry them with equal rights, and leave the consequences to Providence! Follies have neither beauty nor merit, unless they are complete. Ah, my good friend, Poland has its charm, has it? ”

“ Besides, what surety is there that in marrying it is, indeed, the woman he is in love with and not the dower? Who assures me that Count Abel Larinski?—I name no one, personalities are odious, and I own there are exceptions. Dieu, how rare they are! If I were Antoinette, I would love the poor, but in their own interest. I would not marry them. The interest of the whole human race is at stake. Beggars are inventive; let them have their own way to make, and they will be sure to invent some means of livelihood ”

“ I fell on the unlucky idea of calling Mme. de Lorcy to my aid, and she has spoiled everything by her boasted finesse. As soon as Antoinette had reason to suspect that her choice was condemned by us, and that we were plotting the enemy’s destruction, the sympathy, mingled with admiration, which she accorded to M. Larinski, became transformed into love; the fire smouldering beneath ashes leaped up into flames. We neglected to count on that passion which is innate in women, and which phrenologists call combativeness. ”

“ You will have to renounce your delightful dream, my dear Monsieur, and, believe me, no one can be more grieved than I. I fully comprehend with what joy you would have seen your charming daughter consecrate, I will not say her fortune, for you know as well as I how little Count Larinski would care for that, but consecrate, I say, her graces, her beauty, and all the qualities of her angelic character to the happiness of a man of rare merit who has been cruelly scourged by Providence. She loves him, she is loved by him ”