JEAN TETEROL'S IDEA
23
"After all," he reflected, "this insolent rus-
tic is my creditor; he is enormously rich, and
his vanity is equal to his wealth. If I say ' no,'
he will show me no mercy. If I say 'yes,'
perhaps I shall obtain from him all that I de-
sire. It is better to act calmly, to examine the
matter, to try and look upon the best side, and
to reconcile honor with expediency, if possi-
ble. "
The baron remembered a remark which one
of his friends had let fall on one occasion.
"This poor world is so made, my dear fel-
low, that it is very difficult to find a glass of
wine in which there is not a mote. But when
the wine is good and the mote not too large, it
is best to drink it without demur."
It is true that in this case the mote was
enormous, as large as a Teterol; but still the
baron had concluded not to refuse his glass of
wine. He had always been in the habit of
establishing a great difference between points
upon whicli it is permissible to yield and points
upon which even hesitation is dishonorable.
For instance, in his opinion, a man in case of
necessity might marry his daughter to a corsair
in order to obtain more favorable conditions
without ceasing to be a gentleman. What
makes a gentleman is first the firmness, and
after that the orthodoxy of his opinions. M.
de Saligneux's opinions were irreproachable.
In capitulating, he pretended that he was in-
fluenced by tho interests of his daughter and
by his paternal solicitude. He actually per-
suaded himself that a good father would not
refuse so eligible a parti for his daughter. The
private fortune of Mlle, de Saligneux was very
small; and, under her father's management, it
had dwindled down to almost nothing. He
could not but look forward with considerable
anxiety to the time when he should be calleel
upon for an explanation ; be feared that his ac-
counts might not appear as orthodox as his
opinions. As for the property she would in-
herit from the Marquis de Vivevieille, who had
always publicly avowed his intention of leav-
ing his entire fortune to his grand-niece, that
was but a meagre hope. Mlle, de Saligneux
had seen for herself that the household of her
great uncle was on the most simple footing. He
rarely received company, he had no carriage,
and when they rode, their saddle-horses were
hired. The baron, too, had always appealed in
vain to the liberality of his relative; he had,
when he departed, after applying to the mar-
quis, taken with him nothing more substantial
than eloquent sermons upon economy, temper-
ance, and tie habit of moderating one's desires,
which last would stand in lieu of riches. From
all these things, M. de Saligneux had concluded
that it would be a wonder if his daughter in-
herited from her uncle an income of fifteen, or,
at most, twenty thousand francs. And what is
an income of twenty thousand francs? In his
opinion, the chief requisite of happiness for
women was a luxurious existence. He was
convinced that luxury was a necessity for his
daughter also ; and he thought she was too sen-
sible not to understand that, situated as she
was, she could hope to secure this only by a
mesalliance. Perhaps she would regard M.
Teterol's gold as a sovereign balm for her
wounded pride and self-love.
The simplest and most satisfactory plan
would have been to ask her; but this interro-
gation was a delicate matter, and the baron
postponed the evil hour as long as possible.
Living from day to day in the hope that M.
Teterol would allow him a respite; divided be-
tween plans that quieted his remorse, and re-
morse that deranged his plans, the weeks went
by. Alas! his creditor, instead of granting
him a respite, had become more and more
pressing in his demands, and had forced him
to promise that by the middle of September, at
the latest, the young people should be present-
ed to each other. The middle of September
had come, and the baron found himself driven
to the edge of the precipice; he must leap it.
The explanation that he would be obliged to
make to his daughter was so intensely dis-
agreeable that he would have given a great deal
to place the matter in the hands of an inter-
mediary, but there was no one near whom he
could call upon to perform the unpleasant duty.
Most assuredly he could not solicit the services
of his eldest sister, the Countess de Juines; she
was the last person in the world to whom he
would have dared to broach the subject. Tall,
thin, and dried up, but nevertheless imposing
in manner, Mme. de Juines was a devotee and
never trifled with principles. M. Teterol, who
had seen her but once, and who had been by no
means dazzled with the spectacle, called her an
old harridan ; she was, however, a very respect-
able person, although she had one sin upon her
conscience. She was still Mlle, de Saligneux,
when, on hearing the news of the July revolu-
tion, she took a solemn vow not to leave her
room until the usurper had restored the crown to
the legitimate king. For six years she kept her
vow; for six summers and six winters she lived
the secluded life of a Carmelite; but one morn-
ing, yielding to the persuasions of her relatives,
she emerged from her solitude to marry M. de
Juines. She would have done better had she
remained in her room that day also. M. de
Juines was a spendthrift, who brought her
nothing but sorrow. Fortunately, she saw him
only eight or ten times a year, and still more
fortunately for her, he died in the prime of life
from an attack of indigestion.
Her matrimonial misfortunes had not dimin-
ished her arrogance.    The fame of her ances-
tors filled her heart and was ever upon her lips;
she wreathed her brow with the former glories
of Saligneux as with a diadem;  and if she
scarcely moved her head in speaking, it was be-
cause she feared that her coronal of hereditary
virtues might be displaced.    When she was
seated, her back never touched the back of the
chair; when she traveled by rail, she never set-
tled herself in an easy position,  so  that she
might sleep; and the next morning she left the
carriage precisely as she had entered it, not a
fold of her black silk dress rumpled, not a lock
of her hair disarranged.   Mme. de Juines never
deviated from her majestic deportment:  out
from the depths of the past all the crusaders
were watching her; and feeling that she was
watched, she deported herself accordingly.    In
her, principles and   Us  convenances  assumed
human form.    She was also a rigorous critic of
her brother's conduct.    She reproached   him
sharply for the follies of his youth, and yet she
did not know the tenth part of them.    It must
be admitted, however, that she was as severe
upon herself as upon others.    She spent long
hours in gloomy meditation over the past; and
at such times she blamed herself severely for
the sin she had committed.   She was persuaded
that her wrong-doing had been  attended  by
the graveat consequences; and that incendiary
fires,  hail,  inundations,   and  earthquakes—in
fact, all the disorders of Nature and  all  the
catastrophes of history, were a just vengeance
drawn down  from  Heaven by the sinfulness
of a  Saligneux  in  breaking the most sacred
of vows.    Why hael she emerged from seclu-
sion until the king had re-ascended the throne?
When the Prussians besieged Paris, the count-
ess had sadly flattered herself that it was her
crime that had caused  this  dire  misfortune;
and if M. Teterol  existed,   that  also  was  a
punishment for her fault.    She regarded  this
Teterol as a minister of celestial wrath, as an
Attila, as the scourge of God.    But although
she had a vivid imagination, she had no sus-
picion  of  the  strange scheme that this mon-
ster was plotting,    if  she  had  suspected   it,
she would have raised  a hubbub that would
have  been heard for ten leagues around.    So
M. de Saligneux had preserved a prudent si-
lence.    It wras  all   the  more  easy to deceive
Mme. de Juines,  because   she  seldom  asked
questions.    Having  an   extraordinarily   good
opinion of her own powers of penetration, she
believed that she knew everything without in-
terrogating any one.    She was also very deaf;
hence one could talk on any subject before her
without much danger of compromising one's
self; as, in order to tell her a secret, it was
necessary to almost shout it in her ears.
The baron always made the best of a bad
game. Much as he hated the task of acquaint-
ing his daughter with the condition of affairs, he
was entertaining, even charming, at dinner, on
the day of Claire's theft of the water-lily. He
drank a trifle more than usual, he laughed and
jested and related some stories of a rather ques-
tionable character, which Mme. de Juines
would not deign to ask him to repeat.
Mlle, de Saligneux however, listened with
great interest, She knew enough of the world to
be amused by them ; too little to be scandalized.
One of her father's jokes made her shriek with
laughter, and Mme. de Juines, startled from her
reverie, inquired:
" What is the matter?   What is it?   At what
are you laughing?"
" At nothing, aunt."
" Can a young lady who has any self respect
allow herself to stretch her mouth in such a
manner when she laughs?   Does any sensible
young girl laugh at nothing?   Your daughter  baron modestly replied
is really a savage, Patrice: her education should
be begun over again."
"I was about to reprimand her severely fol
her conduct," responded M. de Saligneux.
With frowning brow, and grave, almost
tragic air, the baron related a second story,
even more amusing than the first. Claire could
not restrain her laughter, and drew down upon
herself another remonstrance from her aunt,
who did not spare either of the offenders.
There was nothing in the world that irritated
the countess so much as her niece's gayety:
and her niece was always gay, especially when
in the society of her father. She thought him
such a gentleman—these were her words. She
was, however, by no means ignorant of his fol-
lies. The Marquis de Vivevieille often said to
her:
" My poor child, your father is a' thriftless
fellow : your father is a spendthrift, and lie will
bring you to poverty."
She always replied :
"It is quite likely: but do not speak ill of
him—he is such a perfect gentleman !"
She thought it very probable that he would
reduce her to poverty; still, she knew that he
would not do it intentionally, that it would
be the result of thoughtlessness and bad man-
agement. It was impossible for her to feel
much respect for him; but she was very toler-
ant and very indulgent. She regarded him as
an irresponsible being, governed entirely by
fancy and caprice, and condemned to commit
acts of folly as surely and as innocently as
an apple-tree produces apples. That which
amused her most, was the solemn manner lie
assumed when he felt it incumbent upon him
to recall her to a sense of duty. She was sure,
whenever he preached to her, either that he had
some heavy sin upon his conscience or that he
had one in contemplation. On such occasions,
she had a way of looking at him that quite up-
set his gravity.
After dinner they repaired to the long, hand-
some drawing-room, where (as the evenings
were already a little cool) a large fire was burn-
ing cheerily. Mme. de Juines seated herself in a
low arm-chair and began to embroider an altar-
cloth, dividing her attention between her needle
and her conscience. The baron and his daugh-
ter drew their chairs near the fire, in the shadow
of the tall, sculptured mantel.
Each time that Claire returned to Saligneux,
she made a complete inventory of everything
out of doors as well as within doors. She al-
ways feared that she would discover the loss of
something; she had experienced so many dis-
agreeable surprises of that kind. Half reclin-
ing in a low arm-chair, she permitted her eyes
to roam over every nook and corner of the im-
mense room, over the stuccoed walls, over the
family portraits, over the ancient furniture and
rare tapestry, over the marqueterie tables and
ebony cabinets, but on glancing up at the
mantel, she suddenly remembered that a superb
clock ornamented with antique cameos, had
formerly held the post of honor there, and this,
she noticed, had been replaced by a modern
clock; while one of the exquisite vases of
Sevres biscuit had disappeared.
When he went to Paris, in the vain hope of
negotiating a loan, M. de Saligneux had taken
the clock and the vase with him on the plea
that they needed repairing; he did not bring
them back. Very possibly they had found
their way to the pawnbrokers or to the auction
room.
"What has become of your clock?" inquired
Mlle, de Saligneux.
"Ah! do not speak of it, my dear," replied
the baron. " Clocks have their maladies as
well as men."
Claire pointed to the Sevres vase and said :
" Where is the other?"
"Alas! we are all mortal!" sighed her
parent.
She did not push her inquiries any farther;
she knew enough already. Placing her feet
on the andirons, she fell into a silent reverie.
She did not favor her companion with her
thoughts, preferring to keep them to herself.
After a long silence:
" What a pretty foot you have, my dear," re-
marked the baron.
" Do you think so?"
" I have never seen one that was smaller or
more beautifully formed."
" And Heaven knows you have had experi-
ence enough in such matters!"
Oh!   not so much  as you imagine,"  the