Duval

“ Then poor Adolphe little by little conceived a singular idea, which was to make me share, on my own behalf, the hopes he had indulged in for himself; to rouse in me the ambition to become, if not a Scribe, an Alexandre Duval, an Ancelot, a Jouy, an Arnault or a Casimir Delavigne, at least a Fulgence, a Mazère or a Vulpian. ”

“ 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?” ”

“ They came up to me, and having no credentials to show them, I invented a reply on the spur of the moment. "My name is Duval, born at l'Orient, deserter from the Cocarde frigate, now in the roadstead at St Malo." It is useless to say, that I had learnt all this during my stay at the Bagne, where we had daily accounts from all parts. "What!" cried the chief, "you must be Auguste—son of father Duval, who lives at l'Orient, on the terrace near the Boule d'or." I did not deny this, for it would have been worse to have been detected as a fugitive convict. "Parbleu!" ”

“ When within half a mile of the village, the interpreter addressed him again, in such a tremulous tone that Duval turned and looked him in the face. He was deadly pale, and once more urged the governor to return, as they would certainly be massacred if they proceeded.
Duval repeated his determination to go on, but advised the other to return, lest his pale face should betray fear to the Indians, and they might take advantage of it. The interpreter replied that he would rather die a thousand deaths than have it said he had deserted his leader when in peril. ”

“ DUVAL, ALEXANDRE VINCENT PINEUX (1767–1842) , French dramatist, was born at Rennes on the 6th of April 1767. He was in turn sailor, architect, actor, theatrical manager and dramatist. He is the characteristic dramatist of the Empire, but the least ambitious of his dramas have best stood the test of time. ”

“ His hatred of the white men appeared to be mixed with contempt: on the common people he looked down with infinite scorn. He seemed unwilling to acknowledge any superiority of rank or dignity in Governor Duval, claiming to associate with him on terms of equality, as two great chieftains. Though he had been prevailed upon to sign the treaty, his heart revolted at it. In one of his frank conversations with Governor Duval, he observed: "This country belongs to the red man; and if I had the number of warriors at my command that this nation once had I would not leave a white man on my lands. ”

“ Claude Duval, a French man of undeniable courage, handsome, and noted for his chivalrous devotion to women, had been honored, on his condemnation to the gallows, by the tears of many ladies who attended his trial, and by their sympathizing visits during his imprisonment. But the robber represented by the skeleton in Mr. White's museum (whom let us call X, since his true name has perished) added to the same heroic qualities a person far more superb. Still it was a dreadful drawback from his pretensions, if he had really practised as a murderer. ”

“ DUVAL, CLAUDE (1643–1670) , a famous highwayman, was born at Domfront, Normandy, in 1643. Having entered domestic service in Paris, he came to England at the time of the Restoration in attendance on the duke of Richmond, and soon became a highwayman notorious for the daring of his robberies no less than for his gallantry to ladies. Large rewards were offered for his capture, and he was at one time compelled to seek refuge in France. ”

“ For the art of telling a story clearly and dramatically, selon les procédés de M. Scribe, I had thoroughly learnt from old M. Duval, the author of a hundred and sixty plays, written in collaboration with more than a hundred of the best writers of his day, including the master himself, Gautier. I frequently met M. Duval at breakfast at a neighbouring café, and our conversation turned on l'exposition de la pièce, préparer la situation, nous aurons des larmes, etc. One day, as I sat waiting for him, I took up the Voltaire. It contained an article by M. Zola. ”

“ I do not know who you are, but I am sure you are not young Duval, for he has been dead these two years, at Saint Pierre, at Martinique. (I started.) Yes, he has been dead these two years, but no one knows it, so well are our colonial hospitals regulated. Now I can give you such statements about his family, that you may pass for him even with his parents, for he left home when he was very young. To make quite sure, you can feign a weakness of intellect, produced by sea toil and sickness. Besides, before Auguste Duval went to sea, he had a mark tatooed on his left arm, as most sailors have ”

“ what arguments, what persuasions, can I make use of, with any prospect of success, to such a woman as Madame Duval? Her character and the violence of her disposition, intimidate me from making the attempt: she is too ignorant for instruction, too obstinate for intreaty, and too weak for reason. ”

“ Bervick and the Chief ignored him. “I don’t want you calling me a bastard,” said Bervick. He enjoyed himself, fighting with Duval like this. Somehow Duval had begun to represent everything that he hated.
“I’ll call you anything I like when you sound off like that. You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you? Hanging around Evans all the time. You and he think you’re mighty superior to everybody else.”
“We sure in hell are to you.”
Duval flushed a dirty red. “Shut up, you thick squarehead.”
“Cajun!” Bervick snarled the word, made an oath of it.
Duval started toward him. Hodges stood up. ”

“ Madame Duval may be assured that she meets with the utmost attention and tenderness; that her education, however short of my wishes, almost exceeds my abilities; and I flatter myself, when the time arrives that she shall pay her duty to her grandmother, Madame Duval will find no reason to be dissatisfied with what has been done for her."
Your Ladyship will not, I am sure, be surprised at this answer. Madame Duval is by no means a proper companion or guardian for a young woman: she is at once uneducated and unprincipled ”

“ In one of the sunniest and sweetest countries in the world, the south of France, lived my heroes, two little peasant boys, named Auguste and Leon Duval. Their fathers were brothers, and vine growers on the estate [115] of the Count de Vallence. The little cousins were excellent friends, and almost always seen together, following their fathers through the beautiful vineyards, gathering up the branches which they had pruned away, or helping to pick grapes at vintage-time, or straying through the grand old woods of the chateau, searching after nuts and wild berries. ”

“ Pack up and come and stay with us at Passy. There are several charming people staying with us including Renée, the daughter of old Payot. You know whom I mean. Then there is Monsieur Marcel, a philosopher and poet, a cynic in a way, but a first-rate fellow notwithstanding, and lastly a most inquisitive and argumentative young lawyer—Monsieur Duval. With you, my dear colleague, the party will be complete, especially as you are an exponent and past master of agnosticism combined with a mind open to conviction, and possess an aptitude for strictly scientific investigation. ”

“ I really think he should be exposed. He is certainly a most undesirable man to have anything to do with. It seemed to me also that he has some sort of sinister spell over my daughter Renée, and I feel it must be put a stop to at once."
"Most certainly," replied Duval, delighted to think that the game was playing into his hands so nicely. "We must put our heads together and see how we can get Villebois to forbid him to come near his house again. It is very curious that you should mention this subject, because it is closely related with the object of my visit, my dear Payot. ”

“ His voice was even. “Don’t know that I wouldn’t have liked to.”
“It doesn’t make much difference one way or the other,” said Evans, quite sure now that Bervick had killed Duval. “It doesn’t make no difference at all. He was better off out of the way. Guys’ve been knocked off before. Nicer people than the Chief have been knocked off.” ”

“ At dinner, I must own, we all missed him; for though the flightiness of his behaviour to me, when we are by ourselves is very distressing; yet, in large companies, and general conversation, he is extremely entertaining and agreeable. As to the Captain, he has been so much chagrined at his departure, that he has scarce spoken a word since he went: but Madame Duval, who made her first public appearance since her accident, was quite in raptures that she escaped seeing him. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ Devienne, Mlle. Talma, of Mlle. Fleury, of Mlle. Duchesnois, of Mlle. Mézeray, of Mlle. Mars.
The authors of this period were: Legouvé, Lemercier, Arnault, Alexandre Duval, Picard, Chénier and Ducis. Of these seven men I knew four: Arnault, whose portrait I have attempted to draw; Lemercier and Alexandre Duval, whose splenetic likenesses I shall try to describe in due season; then came Picard, who was called the friend of youth, but who [Pg 403] detested young people. Legouvé, Chénier and Ducis were dead when I came to Paris.
Legouvé was very influential at the Théâtre-Français. ”

“ The two gendarmes awakened Duvall roughly, and after informing him that he was a prisoner, sat grimly down on either side of him. Dufrenne took the seat beside Grace. The train had again begun to move—she realized that they were once more flying toward Paris.
At first Duvall, in his stupor of sleep, did not realize what had happened, but in a few moments he had grasped the situation. He did not seem greatly concerned at his arrest, and Grace, her first paroxysm of weeping having passed, looked at him in surprise. How brave he is! she thought. ”

“ Duvall continued his walk about the decks for a few moments longer, then threw away his cigar, and descended to the saloon. A number of passengers were dozing on the sofas, or in chairs, and at a table several were playing cards. He paused for a moment to watch the game, his eyes searching the room for the man in the brown overcoat. After a time he located him, sprawled in an easy chair, his eyes closed, his satchel tossed carelessly upon the floor beside him. ”

“ He would alter his personal appearance, change his name—he thought of Duvall, which was his mother's name—and with Walling's aid he would get out of the country and into some other country where a man might live like a prince on four millions or the fractional part of it. ”

“ It was made in Philadelphia and is very elegant.”
“They can well afford to have fine clothes for Miss Lura,” commented Mrs. Duvall. “People who know them in Springfield say that Mr. De Cormis got a fortune from France, where his grandfather came from. He needn’t preach if he don’t want to, but he likes to live in the country, and wants only a small church, so has here what suits him.”
“It would interest you to go to the church on Tuesday evening and see them married, Mrs. Duvall?”
“It certainly would, and I’ll go. A cat can look at a queen, I reckon, whether the queen looks at her or not.” ”

“ Can you imagine anything more terrible?"
Duvall thought for moment of his own lovely child, now almost three years old, and shuddered. Bank burglaries, thefts of jewels, seemed relatively of small importance compared with such a situation as this. His feelings of chivalry rose. He felt a strong desire to help this young girl.
"Here is her picture," Mrs. Morton continued, taking a photograph from her handbag and extending it to Duvall.
The latter gazed at the charming features of the young actress, and nodded.
"She is lovely—exquisite," he murmured. "I don't wonder you feel as you do. ”

“ In such a life, time never hangs heavy—he was busy studying, planning, working, from morning to night, and his active mind soon convinced his capable overseer and the farm hands as well that, although Richard Duvall was by no means a professional farmer, he could still show them a thing or two when it came to the rotation of crops, the spraying of fruit trees, or the proper treatment of worn out soils. ”

“ Duvall replied. "You can see for yourself that even a tall man standing on the window sill below, would find not only his hands, but even his head, far below the sill of this window, nor could anyone so support themselves, without something to hold on to. But all that is beside the question. The people in the apartment below are friends of Mrs. Morton's, a middle-aged man and his wife, with two young children. They are eminently respectable people, and quite above suspicion." ”

“ Paul had taken upon himself the charge of the farm, thus relieving his mother of all care, and Ben Duvall, his efficient foreman and all-around helper, was living happily with his wife and children in their little home in the village, walking out to the Warfield farm in the morning and back in the evening, satisfied with the world and all it contained. ”

“ Tickels; how far this design has been successful, the intelligent and discerning reader is left to judge. In the Chevalier Duvall will be recognized one of those splendid villains, whose superb rascality is cloaked beneath the mantle of a fine person, elegant address, and the assumption of every quality likely to interest and please the credulous people whom he honors with his patronising friendship.
The Duchess hid her face in her hands, and sobbed violently, as if overcome with shame and affright ”