Les beaux messieurs de Bois-Doré Vol. 2 (of 2)

Since the Moorish woman had taught Adamas divers Eastern secrets for the composition of cosmetic mixtures, the marquis's complexion, his beard and his eyebrows had really improved. They were proof against wind, rain and Mario's frantic caresses; moreover, their perfume was sweeter, and they were more promptly prepared.

At first the old Celadon submitted to the beautifying process in profound secrecy, at the time when the child left his room for his first play. But, as Mario asked no embarrassing or impertinent questions, the old man gradually relaxed his great precautions, and proceeded to his daily rejuvenation with most ingenuous explanations.

The cosmetics were christened cooling perfumes, and the brilliant coloring was called keeping the skin in condition.

Mario seemed not to know what malice was. But children see everything; and he was not duped by Adamas, only he saw no cause for ridicule. His dear father could do nothing ridiculous. He fancied that these artifices were a part of the toilet of all persons of quality.

So it happened that, as he was more or less coquettish himself, he conceived a strong inclination to have his own face made up like a gentleman's. He made that request; and, as he was simply told in reply that at his age such devices were not necessary, he did not look upon it as a positive refusal. So that, one evening, happening to be alone for a moment in his adoptive father's room, and seeing the phials scattered over the table, it occurred to him to perfume himself in white and pink as he had seen Adamas perfume the marquis. That done, he thought that he ought to enlarge and darken his eyebrows, and, finding that that gave him a martial mien which delighted him hugely, he could not resist the temptation to draw two pretty little black hooks above his lips and a lovely royale underneath.

As he had no light except a single candle which had been accidentally left on the table, he used the colors too freely, and could not draw the outlines very sharply.

The supper-bell rang; he hurried to the table, well pleased with his bad-boy aspect, and maintaining his seriousness admirably.

The marquis paid no heed at first; but, Lauriane having uttered a hearty peal of laughter, he raised his eyes and saw that sweet little face so strangely transformed that he could not refrain from laughing with her.

But in the depths of his heart the good marquis was vexed and grieved. Mario certainly had had no idea of making sport of him; but the broad, loud way in which he had daubed himself betrayed a little too frankly, before Lauriane, the existence and use of that palette of beauty which he believed that he had kept so carefully concealed in the drawers of his dressing-table and on his face. He did not even dare ask the child where he had obtained the materials for that coloring; he dreaded a too ingenuous reply. So he contented himself with saying to him that he had disfigured himself, and that he must go and wash his face.

Lauriane realized her old friend's embarrassment and uneasiness, and restrained her merriment; but Mario's whim seemed to her all the more amusing, and throughout the supper she suffered from that mad, girlish longing to laugh which constraint transforms to nervous excitement.

The effect on Mario was magical, until at last the marquis mildly said to them:

"Come, children, laugh your fill, since you have such a longing to laugh!"

But he did not laugh himself, and at night he reproved Mario, who was penitent, and promised never to do it again.

This antic afforded much amusement to Monsieur Clindor, who broke a beautiful piece of porcelain in his uproarious mirth. Being rebuked by the marquis, he lost his head and trod on Fleurial's paw. Adamas could not resist Mario's droll aspect, and he, too, laughed! Bellinde was the only one who kept a serious countenance, and the marquis was grateful to her for it.

"That child is very mischievous," he said that night to Adamas, "and everything that he does indicates a playful and most entertaining wit. But we must not spoil him too much, Adamas!"

The next day there was more trouble: one of the phials of carmine on the dressing-table was found to be broken, and the beautiful lace table-cover was stained. It was laid at Fleurial's door at first, but similar spots were discovered on Mario's white jacket. He was surprised, and stoutly denied having approached the dressing-table.

"I believe you, my son," said the marquis, with a sigh. "If I deemed you capable of lying, I should be too deeply grieved."

But on the next day the cosmetics were found to be mixed; the red with the black and the black with the white.

"Zounds!" ejaculated the marquis, "this devil's work continues! Will it be the same way with it as with the noses of my poor statues?"

He scrutinized Mario without speaking; there were black stains on the ruffles at his wrists. It might have been ink; but the marquis had a horror of spots, and begged him to go and change his linen.

"Adamas," he said to his confidant, "the child is mischievous, that is all right; but if he is a liar and abuses my confidence in his word, it will break my heart, my friend! I believed that he was made of a superior substance, but God does not choose that I shall be too proud of him. He allows the devil to make of him a child like other children."

Adamas took sides with Mario, who had just entered the boudoir adjoining the bedroom.

At that moment they heard Bellinde engaged in a warm dispute with the child. He was pulling her by the skirt, and she resisted by saying that he took liberties above his age.

The marquis rose indignantly.

"Libertine!" he cried in despair; "already a libertine?"

Poor Mario ran forward, weeping bitterly.

"Father," he cried, throwing himself into his arms, "she is a wicked girl. I was trying to bring her to you to show you what she has on her hands. She touched my ruff, saying that it was stained, and it is she who puts the stains on it; she wants to make you feel grieved and prevent you from loving me. She takes advantage of the foolish things I do to put other wicked things on my back. Father, she isn't a good woman; she makes you think I am a liar, and, if you believe her----"

"No, no, my son, I do not believe her!" cried the marquis.--"Adamas!"

But Adamas was no longer there; he had run after Bellinde; he seized her on the staircase, tried to drag her back by force, and received for his pains a hearty cuff which made him relax his grasp.

At the sound of this scuffle, the marquis darted out into the hall. Adamas had received a violent blow; he was dazed and was pressing his cheek.

"That hussy must have used her claws!" he exclaimed, "my face is all--Why, no, monsieur," he cried suddenly, overjoyed, "it isn't blood! Look! it's the beautiful rouge from your phials! It's conclusive evidence! Ah! upon my word! this business is clear enough at last. Now I hope that you will have no further doubt of that red-headed girl's malice!"

"Monsieur le comte," said the marquis to Mario with admirable gravity, "I confess that I have doubted your word on two occasions. If I were not your best friend, you would be entitled to demand satisfaction; but I hope that you will deign to accept your father's apologies."

Mario leaped on his neck, and that same evening Bellinde, being paid and discharged without a word of explanation, left the oasis of Briantes and her fine shepherdess's name, to return to the realities of life under her true name of Guillette Carcat, pending the time when she should assume a more sonorous and mythological one, as we shall see in the sequel.

While these tragical events gradually faded from the memory of our characters, Monsieur Poulain did not fall asleep in his zeal.

It was on the 18th or 19th of December, when the abbé, cold as to the nose and feet, but with his brain warmed by the hope of a triumph at which he had long been aiming, arrived at Saint-Amand, a pretty town of Berry, situated in a verdant valley, between two streams, and overlooked by the gigantic and wonderful castle of Montrond, the residence of the Prince de Condé.

The abbé dismounted at the Capuchin convent, whose vast enclosure, shaped like a cross, lay under the protection of the princely abode. He avoided seeing the prior, whose attentions and good offices he dreaded; he preferred to do his work himself and to travel alone. He simply accepted a frugal repast from one of the monks, his kinsman, shook off the snow with which he was covered, and presented himself at one of the wickets of the castle, where he exhibited a passport in proper form.

"Thanks to the works undertaken by Sully, and especially to the improvements made by Monsieur le Prince," who had purchased that domain from the fallen minister, "the castle of Montrond, which assumed more importance at a later date, in the wars of the Fronde, had become a most luxurious abode as well as an impregnable fortress. It was more than a league in circumference; it comprised numerous buildings, an enormous and magnificent château of three floors, a huge tower or donjon a hundred and twenty feet high, the walls of which were crenellated, and which was surmounted by a platform whereon was a statue of Mercury."[1]

"As for the fortifications, they were so abundant, arranged in the shape of an amphitheatre and in tiers, that even one who had scrutinized and studied them for a long time could hardly understand them."[2]

In that labyrinth of stone, that powerful vassal's lair, that significant mystery, dwelt Henri de Bourbon, second of the name, Prince de Condé, who, after three years of captivity for rebellion against the crown, had become reconciled with the court and resumed his post as governor of Berry.

In addition to that office he held those of lieutenant-general, bailiff of the province, and captain of the great tower of Bourges: that is to say he monopolized the political, civil and military power of the whole centre of France, since he enjoyed the same privileges and held the same offices in the province of the Bourbonnais.