A struggle. A story in four parts

Front matter

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X :r

M /» I

Part I. Skirmish

{From Mademoiselle Pauline Delange to Madame de Montfriand.)

Chateau St.-Eloi, Vosges, July^ 1870.

Whenever I see you, dearest Clemence, you shall receive a thousand kisses. The packages came yesterday. What you have sent me is superb, and selected with that delicate appreciation of shade and color which only a Parisienne as you are has at her fingers’-ends. Now, quite naturally — for Madame la Comtesse de Montfriand cannot differ so much from my own Clemence du Parc — that little vein of curiosity must still exist, and the question will have arisen in her mind, “ What does that plain and quiet Pauline want with this accumulation of finery ? ” The texture of the drap dj'ete is fairy-like, and the nuance charming.

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The riding-habit is simply adorable^ and fits me divinely ; and the hat — oh, the dear hat ! Without my horse, for it rained in torrents yesterday, and it is too muddy for me to venture out to-day, yesterday I put on the whole costume, gathered up the trailing skirt, and, whip in hand, went galloping up and down one of our long corridors.

Now learn, madame, that we are to have no end of guests at the chateau. That is your answer. Notwithstanding all the clouds which disturb the political horizon, and those rumors of war, which papa thinks are so absurd, an unusual number of people have been invited. Papa’s oldest friend, and my godfather. General de Frail, we expect to-day. The general has been stationed in the neighboring department for the last three weeks. It is intimated that the general is coming to St.-Eloi on a special tour of inspection, for he has attached to him, as his military family, a whole itat-major — in fact, some dozen ofiicers at the very least. Of course, this Cavalcade will not live in the house, but will be quartered in the town. But these gentlemen will be sure to be at the chateau most of the time, as papa has given the general the library, and all the rooms in the wing adjoining it. Undoubtedly our poor chateau of St.-Eloi will be resplendent with epaulets, and spurs will be ringing on the stairs, and swords will be found littering the fauteuils. Papa is in

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grand spirits, as he has an immense contract for all kinds of iron from the government.

Madame de Yalhois, an old friend of my poor mother, who says she nursed me when I was born, when my poor mother died, arrived here a week ago. M. Raoul de Yalhois, her cherished son, accompanied her. M. de Yalhois you know about already, at least by hearsay. I may have spoken to you about him. M. de Yalhois has just returned from the East, where he was an attach^ to the Persian legation. The gentleman is not, however, the least bit Oriental. He assured me that in Ispahan he lived precisely as he would have done in Paris, and that he trained a Persian to become a perfect concierge. There could have been no difference, I suppose, for M. de Yalhois, save that he did not have his morning papers, his club, and his airing at the Bois. M. de Yalhois has brought with him a superb Persian hound. He is handsome and tyrannical (the dog, I mean), for this morning the big brute flew at Bobe, a little terrier of mine, and wanted to eat him up. But Bobe is bravery itself, and would rather have died than have run away.

I do not know whether I have spelled my funny little dog’s name rightly. I half suspect it should be Bobb. Whether this stands for an abbreviation of the English Robert, or is a common term for an animal with a very short tail, I do not know, for both explanations have been given me.

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Bobe, then, who is crouching at my feet, will serve to introduce somebody else, not exactly one of our guests, but rather a member of papa’s working family, for papa has some six hundred and odd men at the forge. This person is an invalid, and on the sick-list. You know how original papa is ; sOj when he insisted on bringing into the house one of his contre-maitres,^ of course I had nothing to say. You have heard how papa was once a poor graduate at the Ecole des Mines, and went to the United States in search of his fortune. Papa would have died there of fever had it not been for some American acquaintances, who nursed him, and sent him home to France. , When papa came to Alsace he started a modest foundery, which has grown and grown, until to-day behold me the daughter of the largest iron-manufacturer in the Vosges, and papa a deputy ! Well, there is a kind of lingering tenderness which papa indulges in toward Americans, who are not to me the most prepossessing people in the world. Do you remember that hateful Miss Smeef, of 'New York, who was at school with us ; how she lorded it over all the poor pensionnaires / how she browbeat our lady principal, and knew more about Paris at sixteen than we ever shall, I trust, in all our lives ?

The way this person came into papa’s favor was as follows. : About a year ago there was some huge piece of machinery to be moved from our * Foreman, or overseer.

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usim to a paper-mill some fifteen leagues distant, over a route wliich went directly across the railroad. This monstrous apparatus, weighing I do not know how much, was placed on one of the strongest wagons, pulled by twelve horses, when the wagon broke, and down fell the whole mass of iron, right across the railroad-track. Of course there was no danger to the coming train, for the railroad people could have telegraphed the mishap, only papa would have been forced to pay heavy damages for even an accidental obstruction of the road. Papa happened to see the break-down from one of the windows of his office, and he raged and stormed as only my dear papa can rage and storm. A host of men were called, who all pulled, and tugged, and strained, and the thing would not budge. You know, my dear Cffimence, how we French are given to expletives. Ya! If bad language could have moved that heavy mass of iron, it would have flown. I happened to be riding that way with my groom, and was attracted by the confusion. There was poor papa, in almost a fit of apoplexy, watch in hand, saying that the machine must be off the track in fifteen minutes, or it would be a loss of ten thousand francs to him, because the express-train to Paris would be due in twenty minutes. Papa ordered out more men, and the heaviest tackle. You see, Clemence, I know all about such things.

“ It can be done more quickly, and without so

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much trouble,” said a little man, in rather grammatical French, but with a decided English accent. “ If you will only keep quiet, and not all talk at once, I feel pretty certain that we can clear the rails of the obstruction in fifteen minutes. Give me, sir ” — this was addressed to papa — ‘‘ twenty-five men — silent ones, above all — and let every one of them have hammers and chisels, and as many levers ; ” and the little man took a cigar out, and lit it quite composedly.

“ How ? how ? ” shrieked papa.

By this time I was so excited myself that I had urged my horse quite into the middle of the crowd of workmen.

“ Do you not see that some of the heavy stays and bolts supporting the machine are all bent up, and twisted around the iron rails of the track, and that by the force of the fall they are completely imbedded ? You are trying to move not only the machine, but the railroad together, which is impossible. Here, loosen that rail — pull it up — and the cross-piece too, if necessary ; ” and, saying this, the man, having thrown away his cigar, set alone at work one-handed, for he has but a single arm.

‘‘What ! Is it possible?” cried papa. “You want to move the rails? This is an audacious idea, and the consequences would be dreadful ! I must have permission from the head engineer of the road before I can touch a single rail.”

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But, before papa could say anything more, the workmen seemed to have caught the little man’s ideas, for they had pulled up two rails, and the hammers and chisels rained down blows on the jagged and twisted bits of irons. Pretty soon all hinderances were cut loose, and, with a hearty push, by means of rollers, the whole mass of iron was moved off the track. Then, quick as lightning, our little man, for he is scarcely three inches taller than I am, was down on his knees, tugging at the rails, and showing the workmen how to lay them in place again.

By this time a host of railroad employes were on the spot, for it happened three miles above the depot ; and while they gaped in amazement over the sacrilege of those divine rights which railroads enjoy in France, down came thundering along the grande-vitesse train, and passed on just as smoothly as if nothing had happened. Of course, after the thing was all done and past, papa had to ask permission for form’s sake to remove the rails and replace them again, all of which concessions were kindly granted him. I feel sure our little American— for he was an American — came in for a good deal of praise. Anyhow, papa, who is quick to appreciate merit, and likes to have people in his employ who can bring in prominence those peculiar qualities which sudden emergencies call for, inquired what might be the profession of this person. Our little man proved to be an engineer.

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and papa engaged him as a superintendent of some of our minor departments. Now, papa has a very excited way of talking about the products of his forge. You might tell him that his pictures were poor copies, or his horses or his dogs had, or the lawn of St.-Eloi a shabby grass-plot, and he would only shrug his shoulders ; but find fault with a single scrap of his iron, and he becomes furious — ^because he is very conscientious about such things. Now, when the new contre-maitre was in position for a month only, papa got into a desperate rage with him. The contre-maitre had declared that a certain quality of iron our forge turned out was poor, and not as good as it should be for the price. But papa listened to the new man, and, according to his suggestions, some original appliances were made, and ever since then papa has done nothing else but boast about his iron. It seems that, by the adoption of certain American devices, we not only save fuel, but make tougher iron — an improvement in quality with a diminution of cost. You may not know, my dear Clemence, how this works both ways to our profit, or how the fraction of a centime in our favor makes the difference of a fortune to us when you consider the millions of pounds of iron the forges of St.-Eloi turn out. I would not be the fitting daughter of the largest iron-manufacturer in this part of France if I did not know all the secrets of the business, for papa treats me almost

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like a partner, and even consults me in regard to his plans.

There, that is enough about the contre-mattre. Oh, I forgot — he is an invalid ! It is not a veryserious matter. There is nothing heroic about him. He did not wade through molten iron to save anything or anybody. Ten days ago some new process was going on of his planning, which came suddenly' to a standstill, because a blowingmachine would not keep up its blast in the furnace. I don’t know what it was exactly, but something had been clogged up or had stuck fast, and the hands were swearing and suggesting and doing nothing, when the contre-mattre did something which set all the machinery going again with such a sudden jar and clatter, that an old piece of lumber was thrown down, which struck the superintendent on the head and stunned him for the moment. Such a precious hard head he must have, not to have been killed, and to have come off with only a scalp-wound ! Papa has had the contre-mattre at the chateau for a week, and he goes mooning around the grounds, with his head bound up, looking like a small edition of Pore’s Don Quixote ! Oh, how did Bobe come into my possession ? Bobe belonged to the contre-mattre^ and, when the dog left his master one day and came to me, I admired the little brute. Papa asked M. Percival to send to England for just such a dog for me. M. Percival (such an odd Christian-name

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as he has, Hoo ; it is spelled H-u-g-h — what an impossible language is English !) begged papa to keep the dog. Bobe only owes me half -allegiance : for he is constantly playing me false, and running off to his old master. Sometimes I have a mind to send him back. — There, I must cease now, for Madame de Valbois has come in. It is fortunate she has, otherwise I should be as interminable as Mees Clarissa Harlowe, who must have spent all her miserable life writing letters.

There, Madame de Valbois has gone. She asked me to whom I had been writing, and I replied, “ To Clemence de Montfriand.” She said, quite condescendingly : “ What, Clemence du Parc, who was married some six months ago ? A good acquaintance, my dear Pauline. If your friend Clemence has the beauty, the grace, the amiability, of her mother, you could have no better friend.” You see, then, Clemence ch'erie, Madame de Valbois patronizes you, and congratulates me on having such distinguished acquaintances ! Madame de Valbois told me that the general has just arrived, and she left me to meet him. I thought I heard a bustle in the court-yard. — Bless me ! I have been looking out of the window ! There is a sentinel at the entrance-door, and I see some dozen infantry-soldiers. As I supposed, St.- Eloi will be headquarters. I must go down and welcome my dear godfather — my second father, in

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fact. Who could think, Clemence, that such a sweet old gentleman, who looks for all the world — save his mustache — like our ancient Professor of Botany, was a redoubtable soldier, and that, in the Crimea, he was among the first to storm the Malakoff ? Huzza for the glories of France ! The general will kiss me, and will be sure to call me his “ pretty little Pauline,” as if I were a baby yet. Then he v/ill give me an elegant honbonnihre full of the choicest sugar-plums. Now I might be half inclined to laugh at my dear old general’s gift to a young woman of almost twenty-one, if I was not sure to find in the box a dainty ring or a bracelet. The general forgets that I am growing older, while he — ^why, really he remains ever the. same. I will give you a breathing-spell, Clemence, while I dress. Babette has come in to aid me in my toilet. I shall resume this interminable letter later.

Just as I told you, Clemence, the most charming of Boissiers boxes was mine, but in it was a ring, an antique — Greek or Phoenician, I don’t remember which. The general, who is a famous antiquarian, picked it up himself in some ruin, in Africa, I believe — I think near old Carthage — and he has had the stone mounted by Castellani. Dear old gentleman ! when I thanked him for it — for, much to Madame de Valbois’s horror, I had turned out all the sugar-plums to look for it — the general said to me : “ My dear child, some of these fine

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days, before very long, I hope to present you, above-board, and not in a tawdry box of comfits, such 2,parure as will tend to render my godchild more beautiful when she makes another man happy as his wife.” Of course, this remark of my godfather’s confused me, and the more so since I became certain that a look of intelligence had passed between Madame de Valbois and General de Frail. Had these two good people been talking about an intended parti for me? I hinted before this to you, Clemence, some suspicions of such a thing. In fact, it is getting to be such a serious matter that I ought not to treat it any longer en espiegle, M. de Valbois and I, save for the last four years, when he was absent in America and in the East, have known each other ever since we were children. It is only within the last few years that I have ceased calling him Raoul. I know papa owes a debt of gratitude to M. Raoul’s father, who in some way laid the foundation of our fortune. The De Valbois people are all very wealthy. As to M. Raoul, there is really very little to find fault with. He is highly educated, stands well in the Foreign Office, and will rise in position. At twenty-six he has some three decorations, which, with exceeding good taste, he never alludes to. He is a singularly handsome man, and, if but slightly is but very little fade. But — ^but why has he been away for the last four years ? What I feel is so difficult for me to ex-

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press about him is this : I am certain that Raoul de Yalbois thinks the matter of our espousals (I write you this as if I were the heroine-princess of a melodrama) is a foregone conclusion. I always imagine that there is a little lordly way about him which galls and irritates me. It is, I feel certain, Madame de Yalbois who is most at fault. I try not to resent madame’s manners by supposing that her son has any such ideas, but for the life of me I cannot help it. It is true the De Yalbois family can hold their heads high in point of birth, but what is that to me? Yet Madame de Yalbois is constantly bringing into prominence the attentions of Madame la Comtesse This and Madame la Baronne That, who all had superb daughters, with handsome dowers, which good mammas would only have been too glad to confide their darlings to the representative of the De Yalbois. I should not mind that so much, for it might be true, only she tells me, pretty much in these words, what she has replied to these eligible offers : “ Mesdames, your daughters are surpassingly lovely, and thenworldly conditions are no doubt assured, and your proposals generally and collectively do us honor, only we are engaged ; the matter is all cut and dried. We have only to put out our hand somewhere— hardly to ask, in fact — only to intimate it, and we can be supremely happy.” All these things passed through my mind then, as they do now, when the general spoke to me. Presently

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Madame de Valbois left us. I never saw my dear godfather in such high spirits. I have described him to you as looking like a quiet professor of sciences, only at times his eyes flash like lightning, and you can see that the man is made of iron and steel. W e had been talking some half-hour on indifferent topics, when the general referred incidentally to my geographical studies about France, for, you know, if I am slightly ignorant about the outside world, I am thoroughly at home in my own country. As to our department and the immediate neighborhood for ten leagues around, I do not think there is a road or a by-path I have not galloped over. The general put to me quite a series of singular questions as to the width of certain roads and the character of the bridges, and we had a dispute in regard to the number of arches which spanned a stream some four leagues from here. The general requested me to find for him a book on engineering devoted to the departmental improvements, in order to assure himself that I was right. I soon gave him the book, and he found that I was correct. There were some maps in the back of the volume, and he spread out one of the department on the table. As he did so a bit of tracing-paper dropped out and fell on the floor. The general picked it up, examined it, and then put the paper in his pocket. Then he went on questioning me, though his queries were put to me en badinage, as, ‘‘My little pupil, if it is two

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leagues from the cross-road where the beet-factory is to the village, and three more to the river, with a road only ten metres wide, when you cantered along it with a hunting-party, as you say you have done, pray can you tell me how many ladies and gentlemen rode abreast ? Do not forget that the road narrows for the last half-league between the hills. Now count it out on your pretty fingers.” Of course, my explanations were none of the clearest, so I referred him laughingly to his staff. Suddenly he asked me, “How far are we from Stultzheim on the Rhine ? ”

“It is said to be almost seventeen leagues. That is the distance marked in kilometres on the railroad.”

“Yes,” he replied ; “but I mean by the wagoners’ route. Now, suppose Pauline had her trunk full of elegant dresses at Stultzheim, and wanted the trunk carted to St.-Eloi, how long would it take the package to reach you ? ”

“How should I know precisely?” I replied. “ But we have, I think, some one here who could give you the exact information you require. Not papa, because these minor details escape him. I think this man can give you the distance, because some months ago several loads of machinery were sent to a cloth -factory within a half-mile of Stultzheim. M. Percival, our contre-mattre, must be able to tell you all about it. M. Percival directed the transportation.”

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I would like to see him,” said the general ; and he touched a hell, when one of his orderlies came. Looking out of the window, I saw M. Percival seated on a bench in the court-yard, reading a book. I indicated M. Percival to the soldier, and in a few moments the contre-mattre was in the library, looking rather surprised.

“ How long did it take you, sir,” inquired the general, in a quick, military tone, “to move some machinery from the factory to Stultzheim ? ”

“ Sixteen hours precisely, sir,” replied M. Percival, in an off-hand kind of way.

“ What ! and it is but fifteen leagues ? ” said the general.

“ The machinery was heavy, and the road was bad. If I had to do it again, I might accomplish it in, perhaps, an hour and a half less.”

“How?”

“ By repairing the road.”

“ What ! are the roads bad ? ”

“Ho worse than departmental roads are generally in this part of France, sir.”

“ Hot so good as German roads ? ”

“Ho, sir.”

“ How do you know that ? ”

“Because I have traveled over those roads which are on the other side of the Hhine, at least across the river from Stultzheim.”

“Here is this particular road,” said the general ; and he took up the book and spread out the

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map before him. “ Here is St.-Eloi, and here is the — ” But my godfather, not being familiar with the locality, halted here.

“Yes,” said M. Percival, “here are two streams which have to be crossed. The first bridge is excellent and sound, the second one I feel sure is defective. Here are two boggy places, which will get worse in two weeks’ time from now, when the streams rise. It rained heavily two days ago, and these summer storms on the Vosges swell the rivers rapidly. You would have — ” Here M. Percival looked inquisitively at the general for an instant, and then came to a full pause.

“ Is this plan yours ? ” said the general, taking out of his pocket the bit of flimsy tracing-paper and placing it over the engraved map.

“ I think it must be,” replied M. Percival.

“ I see that it differs slightly from the original,” said the general.

“ Only because, sir, as was suggested to M. Delange, some alterations on the road were to be made, and, having been in the library a day or so ago, I made the proposed changes.”

“You are the very man I want, then. Pray continue, sir.”

“ How — continue ? ”

“ You paused when you stated that I should have some difficulty about something. Pray explain yourself.”

“ You would have no end of trouble with ar-

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tillery there. Your guns, for a rapid movement, would be sure to be stuck.”

“Who spoke about artillery or guns? Are you an Englishman ? ”

“ No, sir ; I am not.”

“What made you think about moving cannon?”

“ It simply suggested itself to my mind, as I suppose it must have to yours.”

“ Ah, indeed ! You have seen service ? ”

“Yes.”

“ If not a liberty (for you wear an empty sleeve which I respect), did you lose your arm in action ? None but a very apt engineer with a military training could have made that very neat tracing.”

Here, dear Clemence, I would have given a good deal to stay, but the general dismissed me and retained M. Percival. I saw the general at dinner, and he sat beside me. Papa was at his best, and was the life of the table, but my godfather seemed absorbed. M. de Valbois was polite and courteous as usual, madame dignified and slightly incisive. M. Percival has his meals always served him in his room, and has not yet honored us with his company. When dinner was over WQ had coffee, as usual, in the small drawing-room overlooking the lawn. A dozen people had come ill;, ofiicials from the mairie^ some of our neighbors, there was a sprinkling of ofiicers. I went to the P>ano to play something, prepava-

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tory to whist, for the general and papa have an interminable game which has lasted for twentyyears. The servants had arranged the card-tables, when an officer came in and presented a dispatch to the general. My godfather was at the table, and was in the act of cutting for a partner — I could see that, for M. de Valbois was turning over for me the leaves of a nocturne^ as he is an excellent musician — when the general rose, excused himself, came to me, and begged M. de Valbois to take his place at the table. But Madame de Valbois had already occupied the position. I fancied I knew the reason why. It was because she wanted Raoul to be -with me. The general read the dispatch — a brief one, apparently — by the candles at my piano. Of course, my nocturne came to a full stop. M. de Valbois left me in a minute, and went out of the drawing-room as if annoyed. I think I made a happy escape, for, somehow or other, I fancied the grande affaire was coming. I went on playing again, when my godfather gently put one of his hands on mine and said :

^‘My little Pauline, I have a service to ask you. What about this M. Percival ? Who is he?”

“ I assure you I do not know, save that he is papa’s head-man, and that he places all confidence in him,” I replied.

An American ? ”

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Yes ; though I have never exchanged a dozen words with him.” I was surprised at the interest the general had taken in our contre-maitre,

“ Pauline, I want more information from the man. He has what we call a topographical head, and a knowledge of this country and of that across the river would he of great use to me, especially at this moment. Is he still-mouthed ? Does he know how to hold his tongue ? ”

“ Hold his tongue ? Certainly he does, since he has never opened his mouth to me. But papa says he is a tomb of secrets. I assure you, though, I never had any confidences to impart to him,” I added, with a laugh.

Where is he now ? ”

‘‘ How should I know, general ? Usually he smokes a cigar after his dinner, in the hilliardroom, especially when nobody is there, as is probably the case just now. M. Percival is rather a misanthropic kind of person, perhaps unaccustomed to general society.”

“ Pauline, if I sent for him it might be noticed. You and I will saunter Mit, and you will take me to the billiard-room.” So, unobserved, the general and I left the drawing-room, walked across the court-yard, a mere step to the billiard-room, and, sure enough, there was M. Percival, but M. de Valbois was there too.