Dumay

“ And here you come among us and ask us to expire with grief at this commonplace affair."
"You call yourself a poet!" cried Dumay, "but don't you feel what you write?"
"Good heavens! if we endured the joys or the woes we sing we should be as worn out in three months as a pair of old boots," said the poet, smiling. "But stay, you shall not come from Havre to Paris to see Canalis without carrying something back with you. ”

“ These mute admonitions brought Dumay to his senses while the valet went to ask his master if he would receive a person who had come from Havre expressly to see him,—a stranger named Dumay.
"What sort of a man?" asked Canalis. ”

“ We sometimes wonder how it is possible for young girls to do wrong; but such as do so have no blind mother to send her plummet line of intuition to the depths of the subterranean fancies of a virgin heart. The Dumays slept when Modeste opened her window, as it were to watch for the passing of a man,—the man of her dreams, the expected knight who was to mount her behind him and ride away under the fire of Dumay's pistols. ”

“ And he put the bottle back into his knapsack.
"The Great Spirit also loves the Canadian," resumed Dumais after a pause; "he appeared to him last night in a dream."
"What did he say to my brother?" asked the Indians.
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"The Great Spirit told him to buy back the prisoner," answered Dumais.
"My brother lies like a Frenchman," replied Grand-Loutre. "He lies like all the pale faces. The red-skins do not lie to them."
"The French never lie when they speak of the Great Spirit," said the Canadian; and, opening his knapsack, he took a small sip of brandy. ”

“ Monsieur, perhaps, fancied himself brought back again to the happy times when the opening of a door gave him an emotion, in which every letter might contain a state secret,—in which every message was connected with a dark and complicated intrigue. Perhaps, likewise, that great name of M. le Prince expanded itself, beneath the roofs of Blois, to the proportions of a phantom.
Monsieur pushed away his plate.
“Shall I tell the envoy to wait?” asked M. de Saint-Remy.
A glance from Madame emboldened Gaston, who replied: “No, no! let him come in at once, on the contrary. A propos, who is he?” ”

“ The light-hearted gaiety of the father and the sardonic gravity of the son, offered a contrast too marked to be missed by the wits. Alexandre is Dumas fils, but you—you are not Dumas père—you never will be!" said "the Lady of the Camélias" to the great man. "He is a big child of mine, born when I was quite young," said the son. Each seemed to provoke wit in the other. The elder was one day dining with his son, who had taken a house where the trees in the garden quite blocked up the light. "Open your windows," said old Dumas, "and let your garden have a little fresh air!" ”

“ All this tale of triumph, checkered by enmities and diversified by duels, Dumas tells with the vigour and wit of his novels. He is his own hero, and loses nothing in the process; but the other characters—Taylor, Nodier, the Duc d’Orléans, the spiteful press-men, the crabbed old officials—all live like the best of the persons in his tales. They call Dumas vain: he had reason to be vain, and no candid or generous reader will be shocked by his pleasant, frank, and artless enjoyment of himself and of his adventures. ”

“ What do you expect? I can’t help it. I have a fine, strapping girl myself; she’s just twenty, and when a girl of that age comes here I think of her, and I don’t care if it’s a great lady or a vagabond, I can’t help feeling it a bit. But I am taking up your time, sir, with my tales, and it wasn’t to hear them you came here. I was told to show you Mlle. Gautier’s grave; here you have it. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Do you know M. Armand Duval’s address?” I asked.
“Yes; he lives at Rue de ——; at least, that’s where I always go to get my money for the flowers you see there.” ”

“ The young man obeyed, with no more thought of Courte-Joie and Trigaud than if they did not exist. To him, there was no one at this moment in the world but Mary.
"Rosine," he said, after he had gone a little way, longing to talk about Mary, "how did mademoiselle know I was arrested by the gendarmes?"
"Bless me! I should have to tell you what happened before that, Monsieur Michel."
"Tell me all you can, my dear, good Rosine; only, do speak up. I'm burning with impatience. Ah! how good it is to be free," cried the young man; "and to be going to Mary!" ”

“ He found the great man deserted—all the servants had gone a-holidaying—but the host hurried into the kitchen, and prepared with his own hands a feast for the gods, for this stranger. It is a pleasant picture that the poet sets before us—the penniless beggar eating, and making witty remarks on the dishes as he attacked them, and Dumas beaming with delight and roaring with laughter, as he heaped the strange guest's plate with good things. ”

“ Archie," replied Dumais, for he it was, "although you had slain my brother, although it should be necessary for me to cut down these two red rascals with my tomahawk, in an hour you shall be free. I shall try persuasion before resorting to violent measures. Now silence."
Dumais resumed his place with the Indians, and after a time he remarked:
"The prisoner thanks the red-skins for promising him the death of a man; he says that the song of the pale face will be that of a warrior."
"Houa!" said Grand-Loutre, "the Englishman will screech like an owl when he sees the fires of our wigwams." ”

“ Apropos of that trial—and although it leads us away from Mr Gutzkow, who makes but a brief reference to the orgies, revived from the days of the Regency, which the evidence given upon it disclosed—M. Dumas certainly burst upon us on that occasion in an entirely new character. We had already inferred from some of his books, from the knowing gusto with which he describes a duel, and from his intimacy with Grisier, the Parisian Angelo, to whom he often alludes, that he was cunning of fence and perilous with the pistol. ”

“ I begged M. Duval to sit down by the fire; he did so, and, taking his handkerchief from his pocket, hid his face in it for a moment.
“You must be at a loss to understand,” he went on, sighing sadly, “for what purpose an unknown visitor, at such an hour, in such a costume, and in tears, can have come to see you. I have simply come to ask of you a great service.”
“Speak on, sir, I am entirely at your disposal.”
“You were present at the sale of Marguerite Gautier?” ”

“ I do not belong to the Comte du Bouchage."
"Ah! and to whom do you belong?"
"To a more powerful lord."
"Take care; you are lying again."
"Why so?"
"There are not many people above the house of Joyeuse."
"Not that of France?"
"Oh! oh!"
"And see how they pay." said Aurilly, sliding into Remy's hand one of the rouleaux of gold.
Remy shuddered and took a step back, but controlling himself, said:
"You serve the king?"
"No, but his brother, the Duc d'Anjou."
"Oh! very well! I am the duke's most humble servant."
"That is excellent."
"But what does monseigneur want?" ”

“ The crowd kept running along the bank and watching with horrified interest the man whom nothing short of a miracle could save from a hideous death. Indeed, up to within about thirty feet of the island, Dumais was being carried farther and farther from his only hope of rescue, when an enormous ice cake, dashing down with furious speed, struck one corner of the piece on which he was sitting, and diverted it violently from its course. It wheeled upon the little island and came in contact with the ancient cedar, the only barrier between Dumais and the abyss. ”

“ Such was 'Monte Cristo,' which was now the talk of Paris."
Here Dumas's hospitality was princely, unlimited. "At his Abbotsford 'Monte Cristo,'" Mr Lang reminds us, "the gates were open to everybody but bailiffs. His dog asked other dogs to come and stay; twelve came, making thirteen in all. The old butler wanted to turn them adrift, and Dumas consented and repented.
"'Michel,' he said, 'there are some expenses which a man's social position and the character which he has had the ill-luck to receive from heaven force upon him. I don't believe these dogs ruin me. Let them bide. ”

“ The light burned dim, and only threw faint circles on the ceiling of carved oak.
"Alone, still!" murmured the king. "Mon Dieu! I am alone all my life, as I shall be after death."
"'Alone after death'; that is not certain," said a powerful voice near the bed.
The king started up and looked round him in terror. "I know that voice," cried he.
"Ah! that is lucky," replied the voice.
"It is like the voice of Chicot."
"You burn, Henri: you burn."
Then the king, getting half out of bed, saw a man sitting in the very chair which he had pointed out to D'Epernon. ”

“ This man was Monsieur de Mouy."
"De Mouy!" thought the queen; "well, I felt it was he. But this old man—ah! cospetto!—this old man is"—
She leaned toward the captain of the guard.
"Look, Monsieur de Nancey," said she, "but without attracting attention; look at Lasco who is speaking. Behind him—do you see the old man with the white beard, in the black velvet suit?"
"Yes, madame," replied the captain.
"Well, do not lose sight of him."
"The one to whom the King of Navarre made a sign just now?" ”

“ In 1822 Dumas might have settled at Geneva, and many circumstances led him to think seriously of doing so. An incident, however, which happened at that time, and which at first sight seemed in no way likely to influence a well-matured plan of life, induced him within a few days to change his mind. He made the acquaintance of a man, among whose varied gifts the fascinating sway he exercised over youthful minds was not the least. Let me try to give the story in the very words in which I heard it from Dumas's mouth. ”

“ The young and ambitious author always found a kind, genial, helpful friend in Dumas. One day a novice came to ask the great man a favour. Would he listen to a play in verse? Dumas, whose time was golden, nevertheless good-naturedly agreed. ”

“ He walked down the Rue Richelieu, meditating how he should carry off the queen in her turn, for to take her in a carriage bearing the arms of France was not to be thought of, when he perceived an equipage standing at the door of the hotel belonging to Madame de Guemenee.
He was struck by a sudden idea.
“Ah, pardieu!” he exclaimed; “that would be fair play.”
And approaching the carriage, he examined the arms on the panels and the livery of the coachman on his box. This scrutiny was so much the more easy, the coachman being sound asleep. ”

“ Dumais passed him the bottle. The Indian seized it with a trembling hand and gulped down a good half of the contents.
"Ah, but that's good," said he, handing back the bottle; and presently his piercing eyes grew glazed, and a vacant look began to creep into his face.
"Dumais does not offer any to his brother Grand-Loutre," said the Canadian; "he knows that he does not drink fire-water."
"The Great Spirit loves Grand-Loutre," said the latter, "and made him throw up the only mouthful of fire-water he ever drank. ”

“ Charles went up to the door.
"Monsieur Lallemand," he said, "there is a playfellow of mine here who comes from Villers-Cotterets and who says you must know his father."
"What is his name?"
"He is called Alexandre Dumas."
"Is he the son of General Alexandre Dumas?" asked one of the brothers Lallemand.
"Yes, General," I replied, and I entered.
"Is that you, my lad?" said the general.
"Yes, General, here I am."
[Pg 397]
"Come, my boy, come, ... it is always a pleasure for a soldier to see the son of a brave man, and your father was brave. Is he dead?"
"Yes, General; he died eight years ago." ”

“ The ladies now, according to etiquette, rose, and, bowing to the king, retired. The queen followed with her ladies of honor. The queen-mother remained: the king's gayety was a mystery that she wished to fathom.
"Cardinal," said the king, "what has become of your brother, Du Bouchage?"
"I do not know, sire."
"How! you do not know?"
"No; I never see him, now."
A grave, sad voice from the end of the room said, "Here I am, sire."
"Ah! it is he," cried Henri. "Approach, comte; approach."
The young man obeyed.
"Mon Dieu!" cried the king, "he is no longer a man, but a shade." ”

“ As I uttered these questions in Hungarian, he clapped his hands in gladness, and then, after a little meditation, he answered—
"My father is called the 'Silver King,' and his name is Mr. Dumany. Do you know him?"
"Oh!" said the Englishman, as he heard the name, "Mr. Kornel Dumany, the Silver King; I know him very well. He is an American, and very rich. He lives mostly in Paris. If it is more convenient for you to get rid of the child, I can take care of him and bring him to his father." ”

“ And De Mouy began by hiding the king's plate, napkin, and goblet, so that it might seem as though he had been alone at table.
"Come, sire, come," cried La Mole, seizing the king by the arm and dragging him towards the stairway.
"De Mouy, my brave De Mouy!" exclaimed Henry, holding out his hand to the young man.
De Mouy kissed the hand, pushed Henry from the room, and closed and bolted the door after him.
"Yes, I understand," said Henry, "he will be caught, while we escape; but who the devil can have betrayed us?"
"Come, sire, come. They are on the stairs." ”

“ A moment passed, and the King, leaving the little room, asked one of the gaolers for a pair of scissors.
[317]
“What for, citizen?”
“I wish the Citizen Cléry to cut off my hair; it is the only legacy I have to leave my family.”
“’Tis well,” said the gaoler.
And Cléry performed this ghastly office.
Cléry, turning to the commissaires, said, “And now, citizens, I beg that I may be allowed to accompany the Citizen Louis Capet”—he dared not call him King; to do so would have terminated his own life—“to the scaffold. ”