The Dowry.
Monsieur Faucheux's horses were serviceable animals, with thickset knees, and legs that had some difficulty in moving.
Like the carriage, they belonged to the earlier part of the century.They were not as fleet as the English horses of M.
Fouquet, and consequently took two hours to get to Saint-Mande.Their progress, it might be said, was majestic.
Majesty, however, precludes hurry.The marquise stopped the carriage at the door so well known to her, although she had seen it only once, under circumstances, it will be remembered, no less painful than those which brought her now to it again.She drew a key from her pocket, and inserted it in the lock, pushed open the door, which noiselessly yielded to her touch, and directed the clerk to carry the chest upstairs to the first floor.The weight of the chest was so great that the clerk was obliged to get the coachman to assist him with it.They placed it in a small cabinet, anteroom, or boudoir rather, adjoining the saloon where we once saw M.Fouquet at the marquise's feet.Madame de Belliere gave the coachman a louis, smiled gracefully at the clerk, and dismissed them both.She closed the door after them, and waited in the room, alone and barricaded.There was no servant to be seen about the rooms, but everything was prepared as though some invisible genius had divined the wishes and desires of an expected guest.The fire was laid, candles in the candelabra, refreshments upon the table, books scattered about, fresh-cut flowers in the vases.One might almost have imagined it an enchanted house.The marquise lighted the candles, inhaled the perfume of the flowers, sat down, and was soon plunged in profound thought.
Her deep musings, melancholy though they were, were not untinged with a certain vague joy.Spread out before her was a treasure, a million wrung from her fortune as a gleaner plucks the blue corn-flower from her crown of flowers.She conjured up the sweetest dreams.Her principal thought, and one that took precedence of all others, was to devise means of leaving this money for M.Fouquet without his possibly learning from whom the gift had come.This idea, naturally enough, was the first to present itself to her mind.But although, on reflection, it appeared difficult to carry out, she did not despair of success.She would then ring to summon M.Fouquet and make her escape, happier than if, instead of having given a million, she had herself found one.But, being there, and having seen the boudoir so coquettishly decorated that it might almost be said the least particle of dust had but the moment before been removed by the servants; having observed the drawing-room, so perfectly arranged that it might almost be said her presence there had driven away the fairies who were its occupants, she asked herself if the glance or gaze of those whom she had displaced -- whether spirits, fairies, elves, or human creatures -- had not already recognized her.To secure success, it was necessary that some steps should be seriously taken, and it was necessary also that the superintendent should comprehend the serious position in which he was placed, in order to yield compliance with the generous fancies of a woman; all the fascinations of an eloquent friendship would be required to persuade him, and, should this be insufficient, the maddening influence of a devoted passion, which, in its resolute determination to carry conviction, would not be turned aside.Was not the superintendent, indeed, known for his delicacy and dignity of feeling? Would he allow himself to accept from any woman that of which she had stripped herself? No! He would resist, and if any voice in the world could overcome his resistance, it would be the voice of the woman he loved.
Another doubt, and that a cruel one, suggested itself to Madame de Belliere with a sharp, acute pain, like a dagger thrust.Did he really love her? Would that volatile mind, that inconstant heart, be likely to be fixed for a moment, even were it to gaze upon an angel? Was it not the same with Fouquet, notwithstanding his genius and his uprightness of conduct, as with those conquerors on the field of battle who shed tears when they have gained a victory?" I must learn if it be so, and must judge of that for myself," said the marquise."Who can tell whether that heart, so coveted, is not common in its impulses, and full of alloy? Who can tell if that mind, when the touchstone is applied to it, will not be found of a mean and vulgar character? Come, come," she said, "this is doubting and hesitating too much -- to the proof." She looked at the timepiece."It is now seven o'clock," she said; "he must have arrived, it is the hour for signing his papers." With a feverish impatience she rose and walked towards the mirror, in which she smiled with a resolute smile of devotedness; she touched the spring and drew out the handle of the bell.Then, as if exhausted beforehand by the struggle she had just undergone, she threw herself on her knees, in utter abandonment, before a large couch, in which she buried her face in her trembling hands.