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Page 10
Monsieur de Malouet rose from the table as he was concluding the story of
Rostain's epic. After coffee, I followed the smokers into the garden. The
evening was magnificent. The marquis led me away along the main avenue,
the fine sand of which sparkled in the moonlight between the dense shadows
of the tall chestnuts. While talking with apparent carelessness, he
submitted me to a sort of examination upon a variety of subjects, as if to
make sure that I was worthy of the interest he had so gratuitously
manifested toward me up to this time. We were far from agreeing on all
points; but, gifted both with sincerity and good-nature, we found almost
as much pleasure in arguing as we did in agreeing. That epicurean is a
thinker; his thought, always generously inclined, has assumed, in the
solitude where it has developed itself, a peculiar and paradoxical turn. I
wish I could give you an idea of it.
As we were returning to the chateau, we heard a great noise of voices and
laughter, and we saw at the foot of the stoop some ten or twelve young men
who were jumping and bounding, as if trying to reach, without the help of
the steps, the platform that crowns the double staircase. We were enabled
to understand the explanation of these passionate gymnastics as soon as
the light of the moon enabled us to distinguish a white dress on the
platform. It was evidently a tournament of which the white dress was to
crown the victor. The young lady (had she not been young, they would not
have jumped so high) was leaning over the balustrade, exposing boldly to
the dew of an autumn night, and to the kisses of Diana, her
flower-wreathed head and her bare shoulders; she was slightly stooping
down, and held out to the competitors an object somewhat difficult to
discern at a distance; it was a slender cigarette, the delicate handiwork
of her white fingers and her rosy nails. Although there was nothing in the
sight that was not charming, Monsieur de Malouet probably found in it
something he did not like, for his tone of cheerful good-humor became
suddenly shaded with a perceptible tint of annoyance, when he murmured:
"There it is again! I was sure of it! It is the Little Countess!"
It is hardly necessary for me to add that I had recognized, in the Little
Countess, my Amazon with the blue plume, who, with or without plume, seems
to have always the same disposition. She recognized me perfectly also, on
her side, as you'll see directly. At the moment when we were reaching,
Monsieur Malouet and myself, the top of the stoop, leaving the rival
pretenders to vie and struggle with increasing ardor, the little countess,
intimidated perhaps by the presence of the marquis, resolved to put an end
to the scene, and thrust abruptly her cigarette into my hand, saying:
"Here! it's for you! After all, you jump better than any of them."
And she disappeared after this parting shaft, which possessed the double
advantage of hitting at once both the victor and the vanquished.
This was, so far as I am concerned, the last noticeable episode of the
evening. After a game or two of whist, I pretended a little fatigue, and
Monsieur de Malouet had the kindness to escort me in person to a pretty
little room, hung with chintz and contiguous to the library. I was
disturbed during part of the night by the monotonous sound of the piano
and the rumbling noise of the carriages, indications of civilization which
made me regret more bitterly than ever my poor Thebais.
CHAPTER V.
A DENUNCIATION OVERHEARD.
_28th September._
I had the satisfaction of discovering in the library of the marquis the
historical documents I needed. They form, indeed, a part of the ancient
archives of the abbey, and have a special interest for the family of
Malouet. It was one William Malouet, a very noble man and a knight, who,
about the middle of the twelfth century, with the consent of messieurs his
sons, Hughes, Foulgues, John, and Thomas, restored the church and founded
the abbey in favor of the order of the Benedictine monks, and for the
salvation of his soul and of the souls of his ancestors, granting unto the
congregation, among other dues and privileges, the fee-simple of the
lands of the abbey, the tithe of all its revenues, half the wool of its
flocks, three loads of wax to be received every year at Mount
Saint-Michel-on-the-sea; then the river, the moors, the woods, and the
mill, _et molendinum in eodem situ_. I took pleasure in following through
the wretched latin of the time the description of this familiar landscape.
It has not changed.
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