Abbé Constantin & A Marriage for Love

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Chapter I

An old priest was walking briskly and resolutely under a broiling sun. The Abb6 Constantin had been for more than thirty years Cur6 of the quiet little village of Souvigny, in the plain down yonder, skirted by a small stream called the Lizotte.

He had been walking for a quarter of an hour along the wall of the Chiteau de Longueval. As he reached the high iron entrance-gate, which was supported by two massive pillars of heavy stones, worn out by time, he stopped and gazed sadly on two immense blue bills that were stuck on the wall. These placards announced that on Wednesday, the i8th of May, 1881, at one o'clock in the afternoon, the unreserved sale by auction of Longueval estate, divided into four lots, was to take place at a special sitting of the Magistrate of Souvigny Civil Court :

First. ''The Chateau, with all its outhouses

A and appurtenances, beautiful sheets of water, vast stables, park of one hundred and fifty acres, inclosed by walls and traversed by the river Lizotte ; reserve price, six hundred thousand francs."

Second. **The farm of Blanche-Couronne, three hundred acres ; reserve price, five hundred thousand francs."

Third. ** The farm of the Roseraie, two hundred and fifty acres ; reserve price, four hundred thousand francs."

Fourth. "The forest of full-grown trees of the Mionne, extending over four hundred and fifty acres ; reserve price, five hundred and fifty thousand francs."

These amounts, added at the bottom of the placard, gave the high total of two millions and fifty thousand francs.

So it was to be divided, that splendid estate that for two centuries had escaped parcelling out, and had always been transmitted from generation to generation of the Longueval family. True, the placard announced that, after the preliminary and temporary sale by auction of the four lots, the highest bidder would have the privilege of bidding for the whole estate ; but it was an enormous sum, and, according to all appearances, no purchaser would present himself.

The Marquise de Longueval had been dead six months. In 1873 she had lost her only son, Robert de Longueval ; the three heirs were the Marquise's grandchildren — Pierre, H6lene, and Camille. It was necessary that the estate should be put up for sale; H6lene and Camille were both under age; and Pierre, a young man of twenty, having led an extravagant life and squandered half his money, was unable to maintain it.

Twelve o'clock was striking. In an hour the Chateau de Lx)ngueval would have a new proprietor. Who would he be ? What lady would occupy the Marquise's place in the large drawing-room, hung with ancient tapestry ? It was she who had undertaken to furnish and keep supplied the drug-store and the medicines which were constantly in requisition at the vicarage, and were under the care of Pauline, the Curb's old servant.

It was she who, twice a week, in her large landau full of children's little garments and woollen petticoats, used to come and take the Abb6 Constantin out driving, and accompany him in what she called, " La ckasse aux pauvres'^

While walking along, the old priest was also thinking — ^the greatest saints have their little weaknesses — of his cherished habits of thirty years past, now suddenly interrupted. Every Thursday and Sunday he had been in the habit of dining at the Chateau. How much they had made of him, how he had been petted, pampered ! Little Camille, who was then eight years old, would sit on his knees and prattle :

"You know, M. le Cur6, I mean to be married in your church, and granny will send plenty of flowers, enough to fill up the whole church — more than for the month of Mary. It will be like a big garden — all white, all white, all white ! "

The month of Mary ! It was now the month of Mary. Formerly the altar used to be covered with flowers brought from the hot-houses of the Chateau. This year there was nothing there except a few miserable bouquets of lily-of-the-valley and white lilac in gilded china vases. Formerly, every Sunday at high mass, and every evening during the month of Mary, Mile. Hubert, Mme. de Longueval's companion, used to preside over the small harmonium, which had been given by the Marquise. The now silent harmonium no longer accompanied the voices of the singers.

Mile. Marbeau, the postmistress, was a little musical, and very willingly would she have taken the place of Mile. Hubert ; but she dared not — she was afraid of being "shown up'' as a bigot by the Mayor, who was himself a free-thinker. It might have retarded her promotion.

The Abb6 had just passed the wall that surrounded the park, every comer of which was familiar to him. The road now followed the bank of the Lizotte, and on the other side of the river stretched the farm meadows, and beyond, the Mionne's forest of full-grown trees.

Parcelled out — ^the estate was to be parcelled out : this thought broke the poor priest's heart. For him, aU that was part and parcel was indivisible. He was rather inclined to consider himself joint-owner of that estate. More than once had he stopped complaisantly before some cornfield, plucked an ear and said to himself, ''That is right, the com is splendid, plump and full. We shall have a good harvest this year." And joyfully would he resume his walk across "his" fields, "his" plains, "his" meadows. In short, by everything in his life, by all his habits, all his remembrances, he belonged to that estate of which the end had come.

The Abb6 could see in the distance the farm of Blanche-Couronne ; its red-tiled roofs stood out against the green background of the forest

I

There again the Cur6 could feel at home. Ber- [

nard, the Marquise's farmer, was his friend, and

after the old priest had been going round among

his sick and poor, and the sun was nearing the

horizon, if he grew tired and felt hungry, he

would stop and have supper with Bernard, relish

a nice "fricot de lard et de pommes de terre," ^

and empty his tankard of cider. Then, after

supper, the farmer would harness his old black

mare and drive the Cur6 home.

All along the way they would chatter and argue. The Cur6 would reproach the farmer 'for •

not attending church, and the latter would answer: "The wife and girls attend the service i for me, you know, M. le Cur6 ; you know it is , so at home. Women have religion for men. They will get the doors of Paradise opened for us." Then slyly he would add, gently striking the black mare with his whip, "If there is one.

The Cur6 would start up in the old gig and exclaim : ** What ! If there is one ? Most certainly there is one."

"Then you will be there, sir ! You say it is

not sure ; but I say it is. I maintain you will be

there — standing at the door, watching for your

parishioners, and continuing to look after our liti tie affairs. And you will say to St. Peter — for it is St. Peter who keeps the keys of Paradise, is it not ?"

" Yes, it is."

"Well, you will say to St. Peter, if he tries to shut me out under pretext that I never attended mass, you will say to him, ' Bah, let him pass just the same. It is Bernard, the Marquise's farmer — a, good fellow. He was a town councillor, and he voted for retaining the nuns, whom some Radicals wanted to send away from the school.' That will touch St. Peter, who will answer, * Well, pass on^ Bernard, but it is only for your dear old Curb's sake.' For up there you will still be our Cur6 of Longueval. You would not enjoy Paradise if it prevented you from being Cur6 of Longueval."

C\xr6 of Longueval ! Yes ; all through his life he had been nothing else, had dreamed of nothing else, and never had wanted any preferment. On three or four occasions he had been offered very important livings, with good incomes, in a distant town. He had refused them. He liked his little church, his little vicarage. He was there by himself, managing all alone, going about in all weathers — sun, rain, wind, and hail. He had grown inured, but his soul had remained simple and child-like. He was living at the vicarage, a very rustic-looking house, only separated from the church by the cemetery. When the Cur6 mounted the ladder to train up his peartrees to the wall, there, over the top of the wall, he could see the graves over which he had said the last prayers, and into which he had thrown the first spadeful of earth. Then, while gardening, he would say a short prayer for those of the ^ dead for whom he felt anxious, and who might be retained in Purgatory. His was a simple and sincere faith.

Among those graves there was one which oftener than any other had his visits and his prayers. This was the grave of his old friend. Dr. Reynaud, who died in his arms in 1871 — and in what sad circumstances ! The doctor was like Bernard, he neither attended mass nor confession, but he was so kind, so charitable, so pitiful to the suffering.

This was the Curb's great anxiety and trouble. His friend Reynaud — ^where was he ? Then he would remember the country doctor's noble life, full of courage and self-sacrifice ; he would remember his death, above all his death, and would say to himself, "In Paradise ; he can be nowhere but in Paradise. God perhaps sent him a short time to Purgatory — ^just for form's sake — but certainly he rescued him after a few minutes:"

All this was passing through the old man's mind while he was walking on his way towards Souvigny. He was going to town in order to inquire who were the new proprietors of Longueval. He had a mile more to walk before reaching the first houses in Souvigny, and he was following the walls of Lavardens Park when he heard above his head a voice calling him, "M. le Cur6 ! M. le Cur6."

At this place, bordering the wall, a long avenue of lime-trees formed a terrace, and the Abb6, raising his head, saw Mme. de Lavardens and her son Paul.

" Where are you going, M. le Cur6 ? " asked the Comtesse.

"To the Court House at Souvigny, Comtesse, to inquire."

" Stay with us. M. de Samac is to come after the sale to tell us all about it."

The Abb6 Constantin went on to the terrace.

Gertrude de Lannilis, Comtesse de Lavardens, had been very unfortunate. When eighteen, she committed an act of madness, the only one in her life, but an irreparable one. She fell desperately in love with, and married M. de La-

II vardens, one of the most charming and fascinating men of his time. He was not in love with her, but married her only from necessity ; he had squandered his inheritance, and for two or three years had been able to hold his head above water only by resorting to expedients. Mile, de Lannilis knew all about that, and was under no illusion. ** But," she said to herself, ". I shall love him so much that he will end by loving me.

From that time dated all her sorrows. Her existence might have been bearable had she loved her husband less, but the excess of her tenderness only bored him. He returned to his former dissolute life. And so fifteen years passed in a long martyrdom, borne by Mme. de Lavardens with all outward and stoical resignation — resignation, however, that was not in her heart. Nothing succeeded in curing her of that love, which eventually broke her heart.

M. de Lavardens died in 1869. He left a son fourteen years old, who had inherited all the impetuous passions of his father. Although not entirely wasted, Mme. de Lavardens's fortune was not a little compromised and diminished. She sold her mansion in Paris, retired into the country, and lived carefully and economically, devoting herself entirely to the education of her son.

But there again sorrows and troubles were in store for her. Paul de Lavardens was a nice boy, amiable and intelligent, but quite uncontrollable. He was the despair of three or four private tutors, who struggled hard, but without success, to drum something serious into his head. He presented himself for admission to the military school of Saint Cyr, was plucked, and' began to squander in Paris, as recklessly as possible, two or three hundred thousand francs. . After that he enlisted in the first regiment of the Chasseurs d'A/rtgue, had the good luck, for his d6but, to join a body of troops setting out for the Sahara, behaved himself bravely, rapidly became quartermaster, and at the end of three years was about to be promoted sub-lieutenant, when he fell in love with a young girl who was acting in La Fille de Madame Angot in an Algerian theatre.

When his term of service was over he left the army and returned to Paris, bringing the young opera-singer with ' him. Then it was a dancer — then an actress — then a circus-rider. He was not particular in his choice. He led the brilliant and contemptible life of an idler. He remained only three or four months in Paris.

His mother allowed him an income of thirty thousand francs a year, but had plainly declared that, during her lifetime, he should not have a penny more. He knew how strict his mother was, and how seriously he must interpret her words. But as he was desirous of keeping up an appearance in Paris, and of leading a gay life there, he spent his thirty thousand francs between March and May, and then returned with docility to a quiet and invigorating country life, hunting, fishing, and riding with the officers of the artillery regiment that was garrisoned at Souvigny. The little coquettish work-girls took the place of the little singers and actresses of Paris, although they did not cause them to be forgotten.

B^ taking a little trouble one could find grir settes in any provincial town, and Paul was willing to take the trouble.

As soon as the Curd was in Mme. de Lavardens's presence — ** I can tell you," said she, addressing him, "without waiting for M. de Sarnac's arrival, who are the purchasers of Longueval. I feel perfectly easy about the matter, and don't doubt for a moment of the success of our plan. Not to quarrel without reason, we agreed, M. de Sarnac, M. Gallard, a wealthy, influential banker of Paris, and I. M. de Samac will have the Mionne, M. Gallard the Chiteau and Blanche- Couronne, and I the Roseraie. You are anxious about your poor, M. le Cur6, 1 know. But don't fret about them. These Gallards are very wealthy people, and you will see what a lot of money you will get for your charities."

At that moment a carriage appeared in the distance amid a cloud of dust. " Here is M. de Sarnac," exclaimed Paul. " I know his ponies."

All three hurriedly descended the terrace and returned to the Chiteau. They arrived at the same moment that the carriage stopped before the steps.

" Well ? " Mme. de Lavardens asked.

" Well ! " M. de Samac answered. " We own nothing ! Nothing ! "

" What do you mean ? " asked Mme. de Lavardens, growing pale.

" Nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing, either of us," and M. de Samac, alighting from his trap, told them what had just been going on at the Civil Court of Souvigny.

*' Everything," he said, " at first went on capitally. The Chateau was adjudicated to M. Gallard for six hundred thousand and fifty francs. It was not necessary to outbid by more than fifty francs. On the other hand, a little contest took place about Blanche-Couronne. The bidding rose from five hundred thousand francs, and M. Gallard again won the day. A fresh contest arose about the Roseraie ; it was at last adjudicated to you, madame, for four hundred and fifty thousand francs, and I took up the forest of the Mionne, without opposition, with ' an outbidding of one hundred francs. All seemed over ; everybody was standing up ready to take leave ; our solicitors were surrounded by people anxious to know who the purchasers were. However, M, Brazier, the magistrate, who had been superintending the sale, cried out, ' Order ! Silence 1 ' and the bailiff offered for sale the four lots together for two millions one hundred and fifty or sixty thousand francs — I don't remember exactly. An ironical murmur went round among the people assembled. From all sides one could hear, ' Nobody, there will be nobody.' But little Gilbert, the solicitor, who was seated in the first row, and who, up to then, had not stirred, rose and said quietly, * I have a purchaser for the four lots together for two millions two hundred thousand francs.'

** Every one was thunder-struck. There was a great clamour, soon followed by a great silence.

i6

The room was full of farmers and agriculturists residing in the neighbourhood. So much money for land ; that threw them into a sort of respectful stupor.

" However, M. Gallard bent towards M. Sandrier, the solicitor who had been bidding. The struggle began between Gilbert and Sandrier. The bids rose to two millions five hundred thousand francs. M. Gallard hesitated for one moment, then made up his mind and continued up to three millions. Then he stopped, and the estate was adjudicated to Gilbert. Every one rushed to him and crowded round him until he was nearly suffocated. *The name, the purchaser's name ? '

" * It is an American,' answered Gilbert ; 'Mme. Scott.'"

" Mme. Scott!" exclaimed Paul de Lavardens.

"You know her?" asked Mme. de Lavardens.

** Do I know her ? Do I ?— Not at all. But I was at a ball at her house six weeks ago."

" At a ball at her house — ^and you don't know her, you say. What sort of woman is she, then?" '

" Lovely, charming, bewitching — a wonder 1 "

"And she is married — M. Scott does really exist ? "

" Certainly — a tall, fair man. He was at his ball. He was pointed out to me. He was looking carelessly at everybody. He was not amusing himself, I can tell you. Gazing at random, he seemed to be saying to himself, * Who on earth are those people ? What business have they here?' We had come to see Mme, Scott and Miss Percival — Mme. Scott's sister — and it was well worth the while."

** These Scotts," said Mme. de Lavardens, addressing M. de Sarnac, " do you know them ? "

" Yes, madame, I know them. M. Scott is an immensely rich American, who came to settle in Paris last year. As soon as his name was pronounced, I knew we were out of the bidding. Gallard couldn't but be beaten. The Scotts first bought a private mansion, near the Park Monceau in Paris, which was worth two millions."

" Yes. Rue Murillo," said Paul. " I went to a ball at their house. I say it was "

" Let M. de Sarnac speak. You can give us the account of your ball at Mme. Scott's afterward."

"Then these Americans settled down in Paris," continued M. de Sarnac, " and the golden

i8 rain began. They were regular parvenus, and amused themselves by making ducks and drakes of their money. Their enormous fortune is quite new. It is said that ten years ago Mme, Scott was begging in the streets of New York."

" She has been begging ? "

"They say so, madame. Then she married this Scott, the son of a New York banker, and suddenly a lawsuit they gained put into their hands, not millions only, but heaps of millions. They have a silver mine somewhere in America, a genuine mine, in which there is silver. Oh, you will see some luxury soon at Longueval. We shall all the rest of us look like paupers. I have been told that they have a hundred thousand francs to spend a day."

" These are our neighbours," exclaimed Mme. de Lavardens. " An adventuress ! That is nothing. But a heretic 1 M. rAbb6 — 3, Protestant, a heretic, a Protestant ! ! ! " It was that, indeed, of which he had immediately thought on hearing the words, "an American — Mme. Scott."

The new chatelaine would not attend mass. What mattered to him her millions? She was not a Roman Catholic. He could not baptize the children bom at Longueval, and the chapel* of the Chateau, where he had so often said mass,

^9 would be transformed into a Protestant church, where chilling sermons from some Calvinist or Lutheran pastor would be heard.

The only one of the three, who was not disappointed and upset was Paul de Lavardens. He seemed delighted.

" A lovely heretic, at any rate," said he, " and even two lovely heretics, if you please. You should see them riding in the Bois accompanied by two Liliputian grooms no bigger than that."

"Come, now, Paul, let us hear about that ball you were talking of just now. How did you happen to go to the ball at those Americans • ? "

** By the greatest chance I It was Aunt Valentine's * at home ' that evening. I arrived about ten o'clock — and indeed Aunt Valentine's 'at homes' are not very entertaining. I had been there for twenty minutes, when I caught sight of Roger de Puymartin, who was taking French leave.

" ' Let us come in together,' said I.

" ' Oh, I am not going back.'

•* * Where are you going to, then ? '

" ' To a ball.'

•' ' At whose house ? '

" ' The Scotts'. Come with me/

•* • But I am not invited'

" • Nor I either/

** * What do you mean ? '

" * I mean to say that I do not know them, but I am going to meet a friend of mine who will take me there.*

" * And does your friend know the Scotts ? '

" ' Hardly ; but enough to introduce us both. Do come. You will see Mme. Scott.'

'' ' Oh ! I have seen her on horseback in the Bois/

'' ' But she is not cUcolUUe on horseback. You did not see her shoulders — ^and it is her shoulders that one ought to see. Upon my word, there is nothing better in Paris just now.'

" Well, I went to the ball, and I saw Mme. Scott's yellow hair and white shoulders, and I hope to see them again when there is a ball at Longueval."

" Paul I " interrupted Mme, de Lavardens in a reproachful tone, pointing to the Abb6.

" Oh, M. I'Abb^, I beg your pardon. Did I say anything foolish? No, I don't think I did."

The poor priest had not heard. Hfs thoughts were elsewhere. He was already picturing to himself the chaplain of the Chiteau calling at each house in the village, and slipping evangelistic tracts under the door.

Resuming his tale, Paul began an enthusiastic description of the mansion, which was a marvel of magnificence.

" What bad taste to show off so ! " said Mme. de Lavardens.

" Not at all, mother, not at all ! Nothing loud or showy. Most tasteful arrangements. An incomparable hot-house, resplendent with electric light, and the refreshment tables placed inside, under a trellis loaded with grapes — ^in April — and people could pick them !

**The accessories for the cotillon had, they said, cost forty thousand francs — all sorts of charming knick-knacks, which the guests were supposed to take away. Did not do so myself,

*

but many guests were not sparing with them. Puy martin that evening told me Mme. Scptt's story, only it was not quite the same as M. de Samac's. Roger told me that Mme Scott had been kidnapped, when still a baby, by mountebanks, and that she had been found again by her father, flying through paper hoops and performing all sorts of feats of leaping in an itinerant circus."

" A circus-rider ! " exclaimed Mme. de Lavardens, in despair. " I would rather have the beggar ! "

" And while Roger was telling me this wonderfully sensational story — a novel worthy of being published in the Petit Journal — I perceived the circus-rider at the bottom of the gallery. She was in a marvellous cloud of satin and lace, and I admired her shoulders, on which flashed a diamond necklace, with stones as large as pigeons' eggs. It was said that the Minister of Finance had secretly sold half of the Crown diamonds to Mme. Scott, and that was why he had fifteen millions surplus in the budget in the following month. Added to that, she had a very dignified appearance, and seemed quite at home in the midst of all her splendour."

Paul was going on at such a rate that his mother could not stop him. Before M. de Sarnac, who was very disappointed, he showed too plainly his delight at the prospect of having that wonderful American as a neighbour.

The Abb6 Constantin prepared to return to Longueval, but Paul, seeing him about to depart, exclaimed, " Oh ! no, no, M. TAbb^, you must not think of walking back. It is too far — and in such a heat, too ! Allow me to drive you. It grieves me very much to see you so depressed.

I wish I could cheer you up a little. Oh ! - although you are a saint, I make you laugh sometimes with my nonsense."

Half an hour later, the Cur6 and Paul were driving towards the village. Paul kept chattering away without ceasing. His mother was no longer there to calm down his excitement. He could not contain his joy.

** Indeed, M. rAbb6, you should not worry yourself about the matter. Look at my little mare, how well she goes ! How nicely she lifts up her legs ! You do not know her yet, do you ? Guess how much I paid for her. Four hundred francs. I discovered her a fortnight ago between the shafts of a market-gardener's cart. When once she is in the swing, she will go twelve miles an hour, and give me enough to do to hold her in all the time. Look ! Do look how she pulls ! Doesn't she ? Gently, gently 1 You are not in a hurry are you, M. le Gur6 ? Shall we drive through the woods ? It would do you good to get the fresh air. If you only knew, M. rAbb6, what affection I have for you, and what respect. I hope I did not chatter too much nonsense before you just now? I should be so sorry if I did ! "

" No, my boy, I heard nothing."

" Then we are going to play truant." After having taken a short turn to the left in the woods, Paul recurred to his first idea :

" I was saying, M. le Cur6, that you should not take these things so tragically. Do you want me to tell you what I think ? Well, it is very lucky indeed. I would rather have the Scotts than the Gallards at Longueval. Didn't you hear M, de Sarnac just now reproaching them for spending their money foolishly? It is not folly to spend one's money ; it is folly to keep it. Your poor — for it is of your poor that you chiefly think, I am sure — ^well, your poor have done well to-day. This is my opinion. Religion ? yes, religion. They will not attend mass ! That grieves you, of course, but they will give you heaps of money, and you will accept it, and you will be quite right there. You see you don't say you will not. Gold will flow all over the country, and that will bring life and pleasure, four-in-hands, postillions with powdered wigs, paper-chases^ hunting, balls, fireworks — ^and here in this wood, in this very avenue where we are driving, I shall perhaps find Paris again before long. I shall see the two Amazons and the two little grooms whom I was speaking about ! If you knew how lovely the sisters are when riding !

One morning in Paris I rode all round the Bois de Boulogne behind them. I can still picture them to myself. They wore gray hats i haute forme, with little black veils drawn tightly over their faces, and long riding-habits, not made in the ordinary fashion, but with one long seam following the line of the back, and women who venture to wear such habits as these must have splendid figures ! because you know, M. TAbb^, with habits without seams no deception is possible."