The Empress Eugenie's Boudoir

Front matter

TOE E1PRESS EUGENIE'S BOUDOIR. IJV GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS, AUTHOR OF THE FIRST AND SECOND SERIES OF "THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON," " THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LONDON," " MARY PRICJS," "JOSEPH WILMOT," "ROSA LAMBERT," "THE SOLDIER'S WIFE," " THE NECROMANCER," " POPE JOAN," " THE PIXY," " ROBERT MACAIRE," "KENNETH," "THE DAYS OF HOGARTH," " WAGNER THE WEHR-WOLF," " THE EYE HOUSE PLOT," "THE BRONZE STATUE," " THE LOVES OF THE HAREM," " OMAR," "LEILA," " THE SEAM- STRESS," " THE CORAL ISLAND," " JIARGARET ; OR, THE DISCARDED QUEEN," " MAY MIDDLEJTON," " FAUST," " PICKWICK ABROAD," " ELLEN PERCY," " AGNES ; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE," " CANONBURY HOUSE," BTC, ETC. BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED. LONDON : PUBLISHED, FOR THE PROPRIETOR BY JOHN DICKS, No. 7, WELLINGTON STBEET NORTH, STRAND. 1857.

Preface

. In the following pages will be found several scenes of clairvoyd'iice ; and from the manner in which they are described it may possibly be supposed by some of my readers that I am a believer in that alleged mystic faculty. I beg therefore to assure them of the contrary. I have merely avaUed myself of the novelist's or romancist's license to seize upon a particular material for the purposes of a tale of fiction, in the same way that I introduced demonolngical marvels in " Faust" and "Wagner," or spiritual ,-ipparitions in " Kenneth." The narrative which occupies the Fourteenth Chapter is not an original emanation from my pen : it is a translation (with much expurgation) of the beautiful novel of Sœur Anne by Paul de Kock. Having made this translation, several years ago, with great carefulness, I was unwUling that it should be lost, as it were, from amidst the assemblage of my literary productions ; and I therefore resolved upon introducing it, with proper explanations, into the present volume.

INDEX TO ENGRAVINGS. Page 1. The Empress Eugenie. gee plls/t3 9. The Boudoir ...«.., g 17. The Tent ........ 18 25. The Officers and the Lorettes ...... 26 29. Mika. 33. Marmande and Julie ....... 38 41. Julie Talmont. 49. The Countess hi: Mauleon. 57. The Carriage •■••..., 59 65. Father and Son ...... G7 69. The Condemned ....,., gg 73. Victor and Louise ....... 77 81. The (iin Shop . ........ 91 90. TheOrgie 94 97. L01 1-1 . 105. The Cadgers' Hall ....... 100 113. The Tragedy l07 121. Miss Terrywhi-t. 129. Louise a Suppliant •••«... 131 137. The Fearful Game ...... 144 14o. The Court Ladies ...... 147 1491 The Guardian Angel ...... 14s 153. Dubourg Asleep ..... pr 161. Madame Dernange. 169. Goton. 177. Punch and Judy. ...... j-g 185. The Portrait ...... 186 193. The Dumb Gii:i.. 201. Love-Making at Grenoble ..... .,„,. 209.

The Lady's Pony ...... 205 217. The Drawing-]!.. 1 iu, . „„„ 2l'.-j. Genoveva de Brabant . .... 936 233. Constance. 241. Frederic and Constance ...... 262 249. The Young Peasants . . . . . . ,267 257. Another Portrait of ConstANC b. 263. General de Valmont's Country-Seat. 273. The Subject of a Picture ...... 282 281. The Four Bridesmaids ...... <>34 289. The Scene at the Party ...... 297. Frederick's Return ...... 305. Pere la Chaise ...... ■■■.M 313. The Grand Fatigue . . . . . 322 321. The Guillotine g22 THE EMPRESS EUGENIE. passion of a nobleman old enough to be her grandfather, she had found herself after about four years of marriage released from so unsuit able an alliance by the death of her husband ; and as no children had resulted from the union, she had no cares to shackle the freedom of her widowhood.

Chapter I. The Countess De Mauleon

In one of the best streets of the Chaussee d'Antin, or most fashionable quarter of Paris, was situated the mansion of the Countess de Mauleon. This lady was about hve-aud-twenty years of age : she was a widow, and possessed a handsome income. Having been sacrificed, when a young creature of seventeen, to the Many of our English readers will naturally be inclined to ask how it was that the Countess de Mauleou did not marry again, and now that she was possessed of wealth, select a somewhat more suitable companion than the antiquated No. 1. stantaneously curtained by the dropping of the thickly fringed lids, leaving the mind be wildered as to whether it were a mere random look innocently meaningless, or whether it were one thrown out with purpose and with aim. Full well did she likewise know how the transient revelation of the bosom, by the throwing back of a scarf, or by stooping to pick up a flower or a kerchief seemingly dropped by accident, would be fraught with a far more seductive power than a longer and more deliberate exposure; and that the same argument also applied to the mere momentary display of the exquisitely shaped foot and well-turned ankle beneath the sweeping train-Uke skirt of the dress.

Without appearing to have the slightest thought upon the point, and far less to be making such a subject her study, the Countess was always so regu lating her demeanour and proceedings as to appeal to the imagination. This was the purpose and the zest of that artful decency itself which veiled the bosom and dropped the skirt over the ankle after a moment's exposure : it was at bottom the veriest coquetry : for full well she knew that the imagination to which she thus appealed would endow her with all the most glowing beauties while completing the picture of those charms of wliich a transient gUmpse only was permitted. Trie Countess de Mauleon, like all French women in fashionable life, was a very pleasant companion, willing to converse at all times, and able to skim the surface of all topics with a facility and gracefulness which actually made you forget that she was able to dive profoundly into none, — constantly disposed to be amusing, and easily amused in her turn.

She was vi vacious and full of animal spirits — but never noisy nor boisterous ; and even her most intimate friends and those who knew her best, could never say that they had found her insipid or duU. It was just as possible to catch her in an untidy dress or slovenly morning toilet, as to find her in a mood incapable of either entertaining or being entertained: and all these indeed were absolute impossibilities. But on the other hand, she was as deficient in soft sensibility of the soul as she was of true moral principle ; and it was only because she was so brilliant in her beauty, so fascinating in her manners, and had such an air of saying every thing with so winning a grace, that the dazzled and delighted eyes of those with whom she came in contact failed to detect the under current of frivolity and levity which assuredly belonged to her character.

Such was the Countess de Mauleon ; and I inasmuch as perhaps the reader may wish to have her portrait sketched somewhat more in detail, we will add that though only slightly above the medium stature, yet she possessed one of those striking and brilliant figures which add as it were to the height, especially as in every movement and gesture there was dignity I commingling with grace. Her hair, of a dark | chesnut, too light to be accurately denominated j brown, was luxuriant and glossy, and she wore it in a style which set off her well-shaped head to the utmost advantage. Her eyes were of the hazel hue ; aud they were capable of all noble on whom she had bestowed the beauty of her girlhood ? For she was now in the bloom of a splendid womanhood, and possessed all tbe advantages which personal attractions, ample fortune, elegant accomplishments, and brilliant position could possibly combine to gether to render her what in this country would be termed " a most excellent match."

But young widows in France seldom tempt the matrimonial lottery a second time. They are too fond of the liberty which they have re gained to be inclined to surrender it up very easily once more ; and if by their first mar riage they have obtained wealth, a patrician name, and a good position, they feel that they have acquired all the social advantages which matrimony can confer. As for love acting as a motive power towards a second marriage, this is scarcely to be thought of in the sphere of French fashionable society ; for it is looked upon as a penchant or a sentiment which can take its course very pleasantly without any marriage at all ; so that while on the one hand there is no necessity for a handsome young widow to lead the life of a nun within the walls of her own mansion, on the other hand there need be no loss of liberty involved in the j secret yielding to her tender inclinations.

From all that we have just said, therefore, the reader j may comprehend that it was not for want of eligible offers that the Countess de Mauleon declined to change her widowed position ; but that she now regarded the Uberty and license which she enjoyed as the well-merited re wards earned by that early self-sacrifice which, when a portionless girl, she had made to obtain rank, wealth, and social position. The Countess de Mauleon was the veritable type of French women moving in the fashionable sphere. Her conduct was outwardly marked by the strictest propriety ; so that she seemed to the uninitiated to be a woman whose very pride would prevent her from placing herself in the power of any human being ; — and yet if the veil were drawn aside, it might be seen that it would be somewhat inconvenient for her to quarrel with her con fidential maid.

Yet to a few of her most in timate friends, — ladies situated pretty well like herself, be it well understood, — she would just suffer a corner of the veil to be now and then lifted for a moment, so that a partial glimpse might be obtained of what was concealed be hind. She would not acknowledge it outright — neither would she deny it in set terms ; but she would leave it floating in the mind as a suspicion which there was not evidence enough to form into a substantial shape. In short, she did not choose to affect the prude or seem to arrogate the merit of being better than her acquaintances; while on the other hand she was careful that no positive and actual cognizance should be obtained of the little frailties and weaknesses into which she might be led. It was thus that she coquetted, so to speak, with her character as at times she coquetted with her charms.

And on this latter point be it observed that she knew full well the effect of a glance sent flashing forth — vibrating as if with all the eloquence of an avowal or with all the signiticancy of an overture — and then inthose varieties of expression which might be made successively to correspond with the kaleidoscope phases of her mind. Her features were regular: her lips had a half serious, half smiling expression ; aud her chin was softly, almost, sensuously rounded. Her bust was full ; her arms were superbly modelled ; and her complexion was fair, without being what may be termed delicate. As for her toilet, it was invariably of the most exquisite de scription ; and yet such was the well-bred ease with which the Countess de Mauleon wore the richest dresses or the costliest ornaments, that it would seem to even the most hypercritical observer as if she embellished her toUet rather than was embellished by it. close at hand ; and as she slowly raised her beautiful hazel eyes to the time-piece on the mantel and saw that it was near the hour of noon, she murmured to herself, "In a few minutes he will be here."

The silver bell of that clock began to strike —the door opened gently, almost noiselessly indeed— and a genteel, pretty-looking lady's maid glided into the apartment. At the very moment that the door began thus to move on its hinges, the Countess caught up the book, opened it as far as the middle, and appeared to be reading with the utmost attention. "Ah, Adele?" she ejaculated, as if she were utterly unconsciohs of the damsel's presence untU she had approached close up to the sofa on which she was seated : " how you startled me !" It was in consequence of her rank and for tune, her position as a star of fashionable society, her elegant manners, and her finished taste in all that related to the beau monde — as well as on account of belonging to a family which had ever shown itself devoted to the Bonapartist cause — that the Countess de Mau leon had been selected as one of the principal ladies to form the courtly retinue of the beau tiful Empress Eugenie.

The Countess had therefore her apartments at the Tuileries, as well as herown house in the fashionable quar ter of the Chausse'e d'Antin: but it was only when her fortnightly turn came to attend upon her imperial mistress that she occupied her suite of rooms at the palace. Our narrative opens in the first week of Oc tober, 1854, when the intelligence of the battle of the Alma was still electrifying all Europe. It was about noon ; and the Countess de Mau leon was seated in a handsomely furnished apartment at her own private mansion. She was still in her morning deshabilUe : but how elegant was that toilet ! The very air of neg ligence which belonged to it, constituted one of its charms, and was as totally distinct from untidiness as a gracious ease of manner from a vulgar familiarity. The muslin wrapper, fastened at the throat — undulating over the con tours of the bust, which it completely concealed — gathered in at the waist — and then flowing in an ample skirt down to the feet, which in their elegant shoes, and in no slipshod style, rested upon the ottoman, — deUneated all the flowing outlines of the form of the beautiful woman.

A book lay upon her lap : it was the first volume of a new novel ; but the Countess had not read more than to the middle of the second page. She was not reading now : she seemed to forget that the book was there. We have already said that in pubUc she was ever gay, ready to amuse and to court admiration for her vivacity as well as for her beauty : but in private, when unseen within four walls, she played no false part and wore no illusive mask. We therefore now find her pensive — but not actually melancholy: she was vexed and an noyed, but not nearly to the degree which may be termed grief or affliction. Her vanity had been somewhat wounded : but her heart scarcely felt the effect of the blow, — though it was nothing more nor less than the loss of a lover which she had to reflect upon, if not ac tuaUy to deplore.

The final explanation had not yet taken place ; hut she knew that it was "Indeed, madame!" responded the maid. "I am very sorry " "It is of no consequence," interrupted the Countess: "but this new novel is so very in teresting that I became quite absorbed in its contents. What has brought you hither ?" " Captain Marmande is waiting in the ante room, madame," rejoined Adele. " Ah, the Captain ? To be sure 1 quite forgot !" said the Countess, with a very slight degree of ejaculatory accent. " Show him in, Adele." Captain Marmande had not however waited for this permission to enter the sitting-room. Adele had left the door of communication ajar ; he had overheard what passed between the lady and her dependant ; and he bit his lip with mortified vanity as he somewhat abruptly threw the door open.

The discreet Adele at once glided forth from the apartment, closing the door behind her, and thus leaving her mistress and the Captain alone together. "It seems, madame," said the officer, who was a light-haired young man, about twenty eight years of age, good-looking, well-man nered, and of fine military appearance, — "it seems, madame, that either my billet must have miscarried, or else you must have forgot ten its purport." "Indeed, Faustin," responded the Countess, with the languid air of weU-bred indifference, "your note did not miscarry — it reached me exactly at half-past ten. I am enabled to be thus accurate, because the billet was brought in to me at the same time as this book ; — and it must have taken me at least an hour and a half," she added, glancing at the time-piece, "to have read three hundred pages."

Captain Marmande bit his lip with renewed vexation : and then, in order to appear as if he were quite unconcerned, he twirled his moustache. All this time he remained standing ; for a French gentleman would not take a seat, even in the presence of his mistress (at least when it was her own house) unless she invited him to do so. "Oh, pray sit down, Faustin," said the Countess de Mauleon, now extending her hand as if it were quite an after-thought to present him with that fair hand of her's. "See! I will shut up my book— although I confess that I long to see how the heroine gets out of her trouble, and whether the wicked was the officer's response. " But I will at once come to explanations, in order that I may accomplish all that an honourable man ought to do in certain circumstances, and that you may decide whether we may not henceforth be on terms of friendship, seeing that in all other respects we must exist as objects of indifference to each other." nobleman succeeds in conquering her virtue at last."

Captain Marmande had taken the beautiful hand of the Countess, and had touched it with his lips. It was more an act of deference and homage to the lady of the house, than a token oflove, or indeed than as an indication of any remnant of the good understanding which was wont to exist between himself and the Coun tess. She perceived the coolness, the indif ference, or the spite — whichever it were ; but she looked just for all the world as if she had not noticed it ; and she was immediately avenged when she made the observation about shutting up the book. For she caught up a note which lay apparently tossing idly upon the sofa ; she tore a piece off, and put it in as a marker for her page,— at the same time crumpUng up the remainder of the billet and tossing it with a negligent air into the fire.

Marmande was almost furious : it was a con tinuation of insults — or at least of supercilious evidences of consummate indifference, begun even before he had entered into her presence! He could restrain himself no longer ; and though he kept back an outburst of passion, he nevertheless spoke in a thick voice which showed how poignantly he really felt the con duct of the Countess. " Proceed," said the Countess : and then with another slightly mocking laugh, she added, " I can promise you my attention." " For some few weeks past, madame," resumed Faustin Marmande, " you have re proached me with what you have denominated a growing coldness ; and yesterday you charged me outright with no longer entertain ing the same sentiments towards you as here tofore. I therefore resolved to come to expla nations ; and I penned a billet in terms of the most respectful friendship, soliciting an inter view at this hour, — that billet which you have treated as if it were the vilest scrap of paper that any scavenger would scorn to pick up and put into his rag-basket !

But let that pass, madame — and let me proceed to assure you that I have not been indifferent to your kindness towards me in many respects. At the same time, I must deal candidly by de claring that I always felt I was the mere object of your fantasy — the toy of your sensual passion. Therefore, when my heart began to be inspired with the sentiment of a pure love for a young and innocent creature — ■ and when I had made up my mind to woo her upon honourable terms — I deemed it a mere act of duty towards herself, towards you, and towards myself Ukewise, to break off a con nexion " "Madame," he said, " perhaps you will con descend to explain the meaning of this scene in which you are bearing so singular a part ? You receive a note from me at half-past ten o'clock this morning, intimating that I shall be here at the hour of noon precisely.

As the clock strikes I am in your ante-room. Your maid enters — you seem to be totally oblivious of my intended visit — you are absorbed in the volume which you have been reading, or affected to he reading, from the very moment you received my bUlet " " I never affect anything, Faustin," inter jected the Countess, with a calmness that was the more provoking because it was accom panied with a smile that had all the sweetness of lady-like courtesy and yet all the signifi cancy of thorough indifference. " And now, madame," continued the Cap tain, as if not noticing this fresh slight on her part, " you tear np my letter before my eyes in a manner which in itself is an indignity, and after everything that has taken place be tween us " " Oh, I thank you !" exclaimed the Countess ironically. "This is indeed most considerate on your part I You have transferred your affections to another : or rather I should say," she added still more sarcastically, " you are tired of serving as the object of my sensual passion — and you are thus with a species of deliberate courtesy disposing of your mistress before you think of taking unto yourself a wife !"

" Though disliking the phraseology in which you have explained the point, madame," rejoined Marmande, " it is literally and sub stantially correct. And now will you be pleased to tell me where and in what my con duct merits so much malevolence — for I really can style it nothing else — on your part ?" " Indeed, Captain Marmande," replied the Countess, with another smile, the very sweetness of which was (saving the paradox) most provokingly bitter ; " I am incapable of malevolence. Indeed, the whole proceeding is too trivial and insignificant for any strong feeling whatsoever. But might I ask how long it is since you first entertained this pure and virtuous sentiment for the innocent young lady to whom you have alluded ?" "I wiU answer with candour," rejoined Faustin. " It may be about six weeks ago that on analyzing my own feelings and seriously interrogating myself, I began to be assured that my heart was experiencing sensations which it had never known before " "Ah," said the Countess with a slight mocking laugh ; " after everything that has taken place between us " "Yes, madame," interrupted Faustin, fixing his large blue eyes upon her: — and then, after some little degree of hesitation, as if he were fearful that he was about to utter an insult which a certain remnant of manly feeling made him pause ere consummating, he added, " For two years past I have been your lover and you have been my mistress."

" And was it to tell me this," inquired the Countess, with a smile of mingled contempt and surprise, " that you wrote me a formal billet this morning, announcing your intention to visit me at noon if I should be at liberty to receive you?" " No, madame — such was not my intention," "Enough, monsieur!" interrupted the Coun tess. "It is precisely for t'zis that I should blame you— if I thought it worth while to blame you for anything at all." " For this ?" exclaimed the Captain, with a real surprise. " What ? because, not being the master of my own feelings " "No — you mistake me," said the Countess ; "or else perhaps I failed to render myself sufficiently intelligible. I meant to intimate that I should blame you — if I blamed at all — for having continued to visit me on particular terms after your mind had been impressed with the conviction that you loved another.

It only seems to me, from the slight casual glance I have chosen to fling upon the matter, that you did not act a manly part — you have been deficient in moral courage nay, worse ! for six weeks past you have been perpetrating a continuous treachery towards me — having in your mind the settled purpose of severing our connexion, and yet overwhelming me with protestations of continued love every time I sought the reason of your apparent coolness." pray let this sparring and duelling and skir mishing between you and me cease ! Heaven knows that if I have given any offence and played the coxcomb in the way in which I sought to bring this explanation about, you. have sufficiently punished me within the last half-hour ! You said we might be friends : let us be so." " Yes— friends, I repeat, as the world goes," rejoined the Countess.

"You shall lift your hat to me when we pass in the streets — or you may come up to my carriage-window and chat with me for five minutes. When we meet at the palace you may hand me a chair But no !" exclaimed the Countess, suddenly check ing herself in the midst of her ironical enume ration of the cold every-day courtesies which thenceforth must subsist between them. "What do you mean?" inquired Faustin, with a sudden confusion in his looks. "I mean that in public," she replied, "you had better show me as little attention as pos sible ; because if the object of your affections has by any possibility heard a whisper — if the slightest breath of suspicion should happen to reach her ears — it might lead to jealousy." " Then have you fathomed my secret ?" asked the Captain, looking scrutinizingly upon the countenance of Madame de Mauleon.

" Well then, madame," exclaimed Faustin, "granting that I was deficient in moral courage — granting that I ought to have come to an explanation with you the very moment that I felt my affections were turning towards another, — is my sin unpardonable ?" " Oh ! as for being unpardonable," said the Countess, with a low laugh of pity — that pity which is worse than scorn and more galling even than contempt — "it really is not worth while to discuss such a point! But look you, monsieur ! I have a few more words to add. Is there nothing of self-sufficiency — nothing of selfarrogating importance in the way in which you write me a formal note, heralding your visit by one hour and ahalf, to prepare me as it were for the mighty calamity which you thought was to overtake me — and if not so prepared, to overwhelm me?

Now, confess, my friend — for friends we will remain, if you will — friends as the world goes — that is to say, speaking acquaintances, confess, then, I repeat, do you not think that you gave your self mighty airs when you made up your mind thus pompously to announce to me the fact that I am no longer to be your mistress? Did you not suppose that I should consider myself a cast-off " " What secret ?" she asked, with an air of the most perfect innocence. " The secret ? — why, I mean the young lady towards whom I feel myself so irresistibly at tracted." " Oh, no indeed 1" exclaimed the Countess. " How on earth could I have fathomed a secret whereof I have only just now received the sUghtest hint for the first time ? But of course I presume that the young lady moves in the best society : if so, I must necessarily meet her — perhaps indeed I already know her " " Yes — you know her," interjected Faustin; "and if I thought that you would not take any step to prejudice her against me " "I indeed ?" said the Countess, with a con temptuous curl of her beautiful lip.

" So com pletely is everything at an end between you and me, that I would not take half-a-dozen steps across this room either to help or to mar the progress of your matrimonial speculation." " However uncourteously you have worded the assurance," said Marmande, "I at least take it as a pledge of complete neutrality on your part. But do not for a moment think that I have played so insulting a part towards you as to make an avowal of my love to the young lady or to demand her hand before I had come to this explanation." "Ah, then," said the Countess, in a mere conversational strain, " the young lady is as yet ignorant of your favourable feelings to wards her ?" "Ah ! if you have taken it thus seriously," ejaculated Marmande, — "if you " "But I tell you, my good friend," inter rupted the Countess, with another of her pro vokingly sweet smiles, and with a look of the most compassionating pity, "your conceit and vanity blind you ! 1 have not taken it at aU seriously.