V 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 /or 
 
 .
 
 THE BATTLES OF LIFE, 
 
 THE IRONMASTER. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 THE BATTLES OF LIFE. 
 
 THE IRONMASTER. 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH OF 
 
 GEORGES OHNET, 
 
 AUTHOR 07 
 'LA COMTESSE SARAfe," " LISE FLEUBON," ETC. ETC. 
 
 BY LADY G. O. 
 
 AUTH011IZED TRANSLATION. 
 
 IN THKEE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 WYMAN & SONS, 74-76, GREAT QUEEN ST. 
 
 LINCOLN'S-INN FIELDS. 
 
 1884. 
 
 [All rijltt retereed.']
 
 WTMAX AND SO.VS, PBI.VTBRS, 
 
 (.BE IT QUEE1T STREET, LIXCOLX's-IHIT FIELDS, 
 MJfDOX, W.C.
 
 , I 
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 TN all that I have written I have 
 sought carefully to adhere to the 
 idiom and language of the highly- 
 talented Author. 
 
 G. 0. 
 
 June, 1884. 
 
 552748 
 
 RESERVE
 
 THE IRONMASTER 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 /\N a bright and sunny day in the month 
 of October, 1880, a young man, in a 
 becoming shooting costume, was seated at 
 the edge of one of those beautiful oak 
 woods which cover with their cool shade 
 the first foot-hills of the Jura. A large 
 dark brown spaniel was lying in the 
 heather at a few paces from his master, 
 gazing at him with wistful eyes, seeming 
 to ask if they were not soon to set out 
 again. 
 
 The sportsman did not appear disposed 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 The Ironmaster. 
 
 to resume his walk. His gun was resting 
 against the trunk of a tree, his empty 
 game-bag thrown to the other side of the 
 ditch, und, with his back turned to the 
 sun, his chin supported in his hand, he 
 allowed his eyes to wander over the beau- 
 tiful panorama spread out before him. 
 
 At the other side of the road, on the 
 border of which he had halted, were some 
 trees of large growth, with branches 
 usually lopped once in two years, whose 
 trunks, sparsely scattered, grew like islets 
 of verdure in the midst of the red-brown 
 ferns and tall yellow grasses. The ground, 
 densely wooded, sloped gently to the 
 valley, beyond which could be seen in the 
 meadows the market town of Pont-Avesnes, 
 and rising above the red roofs of its 
 houses the slated belfry, pointed in the 
 form of an extinguisher, of the old 
 church. To the right, the Chateau, sur-
 
 The Ironmaster. 3 
 
 rounded by wide moats, drained and 
 planted with fruit trees. The Avesnes, a 
 thin thread of water, that the inhabitants 
 ambitiously called " the river," wound, 
 sparkling like a silver ribbon between the 
 stunted willows with quivering foliage, 
 which fringed its banks. 
 
 Farther on, the Foundry, the tall 
 chimneys of the smelting furnaces spout- 
 ing out a red smoke swept away by the 
 wind, extended its black walls to the foot 
 of the hill, whose layers of rock were 
 pierced by large holes in order to ex- 
 tract the ore. Above these excavations 
 flourished the vines from which is pro- 
 duced a thin white wine, having a flavour 
 of gun-flint, that is sold readily under the 
 name of Moselle. A deep peace lay over 
 this smiling landscape. And the air was 
 so pure that across the intervening space 
 the dull sound of the hammers at the iron- 
 B 2
 
 4 The Ironmaster. 
 
 works ascended from the valley to the 
 forest. 
 
 Lulled by the calm that surrounded 
 him, the young sportsman remained im- 
 movable. By degrees the country ceased 
 to attract his attention. A feeling of 
 profound well-being had stolen over him, 
 his ideas lost themselves in a delicious 
 languor. And he smilingly followed his 
 thoughts, which were wandering back 
 into the realms of the past. The sun 
 revolving in his course gilded the redden- 
 ing tops of the lofty trees, a heavy heat 
 rose from .the ferns, and the silence of the 
 woods became more unbroken. 
 
 He was abruptly aroused from his 
 meditation. A cold damp nose was 
 quietly placed in his hand, while two 
 eyes, with an expression more than human, 
 addressed to him a dumb prayer. 
 
 " Ah ! Ah ! " said the young man,
 
 The Ironmaster. 5 
 
 " tliou art weary, my good old dog ? 
 Now, do not be impatient; we will set 
 out again." 
 
 And rising, with a sigh, he threw over 
 his shoulders the strap of his game-bag, 
 passed his gun under his arm, then, 
 crossing the road, sprang over a narrow 
 ditch and entered among the lopped trees. 
 
 The spaniel was already hunting in the 
 long grass. Suddenly he stopped near a 
 blackberry-bush ; his paw raised, his neck 
 outstretched, motionless as if he had 
 been changed into stone, his tail gently 
 moving, and with his eyes seeming to 
 call his master, who advanced rapidly. At 
 the same moment a large hare bounded 
 from his form, showing his yellow croup 
 and spinning along like a cannon-ball. 
 The young man shouldered his gun and 
 fired hastily. When the smoke had 
 cleared off, he saw, without astonishment,
 
 G Tin' Ironmaster. 
 
 but with chagrin, his hare vanishing in 
 the great wood. 
 
 "Another miss ! " murmured he. And, 
 turning to the spaniel who was waiting 
 for him with a disappointed air, " What 
 a misfortune, eh ? Thou didst find it so 
 well I " 
 
 As he spoke, a shot was fired a hundred 
 yards from the young sportsman. Then, 
 after a minute of silence, a sound of steps 
 was heard under the long branches of the 
 trees ; they were thrust aside, and a man 
 of a vigorous figure, clad in a blouse of 
 blue linen, shod with thick boots, wearing 
 upon his head a hat that had seen service, 
 appeared at the edge of the wood. In 
 one hand he held his gun, with the other 
 he carried by its hind legs the hare that 
 had just left its form. 
 
 " It seems that you have been more 
 fortunate than myself," said the young
 
 The Ironmaster. 7 
 
 sportsman, smiling, and walking towards 
 the new-comer. 
 
 " Ah ! it is you who fired, Monsieur ? " 
 said the man in the blouse. 
 
 "Yes, and very awkwardly; for that 
 hare sprang up under my feet, and I fired 
 at him at twenty paces." 
 
 " Truly, it was not brilliant ! " replied 
 the man in the blouse with irony. " But 
 how does it happen, Monsieur, that you 
 are shooting in this part of the forest ? " 
 
 " I shoot here," said the young man 
 with some little astonishment, " because I 
 have the right . . . ' 
 
 " I doubt it. These woods belong to 
 M. Derblay, who does not allow any one 
 to set foot in them." 
 
 " Ah ! Ah ! the Ironmaster of Pont- 
 Avesnes," answered the young man, with 
 a little hauteur. " If I am on his ground, 
 it is without knowing it, and I am alto-
 
 8 The Ironmaster. 
 
 gether vexed. I must have lost myself. 
 You are, probably, the gamekeeper of 
 M. Derblay?" 
 
 " And you, who are you ? " said the 
 man in the blouse, without answering the 
 question that had been put to him. 
 
 " I am the Marquis de Beaulieu ; and I 
 beg you to believe that I am not in the 
 habit of poaching." 
 
 At these words the man in the blouse 
 reddened, and bowed with deference : 
 
 " Will you excuse me, M. le Marquis ; 
 if I had known to whom I was speaking, 
 I should not have permitted myself to 
 accost you, nor to ask of you these ex- 
 planations. Continue your sport, I beg, it 
 is I who will retire." 
 
 While his interlocutor was speaking, the 
 young Marquis observed him more atten- 
 tively. Under his rustic attire he had a 
 commanding presence. His face, framed
 
 The Ironmaster. 9 
 
 by a black beard, was handsome and in- 
 telligent. His hands were delicate and 
 well cared for. Above all, he carried, 
 suspended from his shoulder, a gun of 
 costly simplicity, like those that the 
 English gunsmiths know how to make. 
 
 "I thank you," replied the Marquis 
 coldly; "but I have not the honour of 
 being acquainted with M. Derblay. I 
 only know that he is a troublesome neigh- 
 bour, with whom we are not on good 
 terms. I shall not fire another shot upon 
 his ground. I have only been at Beau- 
 lieu since yesterday. I am not well ac- 
 quainted with the country, and my love of 
 sport led me beyond our boundaries ; but 
 I shall not trespass here again." 
 
 " As you please, M. le Marquis," gently 
 answered the man in the blouse. " M. 
 Derblay would, however, have been very 
 happy, I can assure you, to prove to you,
 
 10 The Ironmaster. 
 
 * 
 
 on this occasion, that if he is a trouble- 
 some neighbour, it is in spite of himself . . . 
 He has encroached upon the domain of 
 Beaulieu in order to construct a railway for 
 mining purposes . . . You may be certain 
 that he regrets it, and that he is ready to 
 indemnify you suitably. The boundaries 
 between neighbours are sometimes un- 
 certain," added he, smiling ..." you have 
 discovered that yourself . . . Do not, there- 
 fore, judge M. Derblay without knowing- 
 him . . . Later you would undoubtedly 
 repent of your severity." 
 
 "You are a friend of the Ironmaster? 
 ..." said the Marquis, looking at the 
 man in the blouse. " One of his clerks, 
 perhaps, for you defend him warmly." 
 
 " Believe me, it is quite natural, M. le 
 Marquis." 
 
 And abruptly changing the conver- 
 sation :
 
 The Ironmaster. 11 
 
 " But you do not appear to have been 
 very successful, either at Beaulieu or at 
 Pont-Avesnes. M. Derblay is an ardent 
 sportsman, and he would be mortified if 
 it could be said that you had left his 
 grounds without taking game with you. 
 Will you have this hare, that you so 
 obligingly beat up, and -add to it these 
 four partridges ? " 
 
 " I cannot accept them," replied quickly 
 the Marquis. "Keep them, I beg you; 
 you will disoblige me by insisting . . . ' 
 
 " At the risk of displeasing you, I still 
 insist," answered the man in the blouse, 
 " I shall deposit this game on the other 
 side of the ditch. You are at liberty to 
 leave it there. It will be so much gain to 
 the fox ... I have the honour to salute 
 you, M. le Marquis." 
 
 And with a single stride he entered the 
 great wood, quickening his pace as he went.
 
 12 The Ironmaster. 
 
 " Monsieur ! Monsieur ! " cried the 
 Marquis. 
 
 But the sportsman was already out 
 of sight. 
 
 " Here is a strange adventure," mur- 
 mured the young man ; " what shall I do?" 
 
 An unexpected intervention put an end 
 to his hesitation. The spaniel ran towards 
 the ditch, and, taking with precaution a 
 partridge in his mouth, carried it care- 
 fully, and laid it at the feet of his master. 
 The Marquis began to laugh, and patting 
 the dog : 
 
 " Thou wilt not that we return empty- 
 handed, it appears ! " 
 
 And introducing into his game-bag the 
 hare and the four partridges, with a step 
 a little heavier from this unusual burden, 
 the young man regained the road to his 
 dwelling. 
 
 The Chateau of Beaulieu, a building of
 
 The Ironmaster. 13 
 
 the style of Louis XIII. , consists of the 
 body of the edifice and two wings. It is 
 of white stone, picked out with red bricks. 
 The pointed roofs of the wings are sur- 
 mounted by tall, sculptured chimneys of a 
 grand character. A wide terrace, of up- 
 wards of five hundred yards in length, 
 bordered by a parapet of reddish stone, 
 stretches in front of the Chateau, and is 
 laid out in flower-beds. It is reached by 
 a flight of eight stone steps. Beneath 
 this perron is a grotto. Climbing plants 
 have entwined and flung their tendrils and 
 flowers over the balustrade of wrought 
 iron, offering to the hand a perfumed 
 support. 
 
 This terrace, looking to the south, is, in 
 the autumn, a delicious promenade. The 
 view from thence is charming. The 
 Chateau, standing upon the slope of the 
 hill, which faces the vineyards and quarries
 
 14 The Ironmaster. 
 
 of Pont-Avesnes, is surrounded by a park 
 of seventy or eighty acres, which descends 
 by a gentle declivity to the valley. The 
 foundry of M. Derblay has a little spoiled 
 the beauty of the landscape, and troubled 
 the calm of the country. But, such as it 
 is, the residence is still one of the most 
 desirable. 
 
 For many long years it had been de- 
 serted. The Marquis de Beaulieu, the 
 father of the young sportsman, towards 
 1845, finding himself at the age of twenty 
 the master of a superb fortune, began to 
 lead in Paris a life of extravagance. He 
 came, however, every year in the shooting 
 season, to pass three months at Beaulieu. 
 It was a fete then for the aristocracy 
 of the whole neighbourhood, and the 
 ostentatious prodigality of the chatelain 
 enriched the country throughout the 
 winter months.
 
 The Ironmaster. 15 
 
 When the Revolution of 1848 burst 
 out, the vine-dressers of Pont-Avesnes, 
 electrified by the socialistic tirades of a 
 few of the ringleaders, took it into their 
 heads to reward the generous assistance 
 that the Marquis had given to them, by 
 pillaging his Chateau. 
 
 Under the folds of the red flag, armed 
 with guns, with scythes, and with pitch- 
 forks, they inarched to Beaulieu, singing 
 loudly the Marseillaise. They drove in 
 the iron gates that the concierge obsti- 
 nately refused to open, and, spreading 
 over the Chateau, set themselves to 
 plunder, breaking all that they could not 
 carry away. The most enterprising of 
 the band, having found the entrance to 
 the cellars, from robbery they passed to 
 feasting. The wines of the Marquis were 
 of the best quality. The vine-dressers 
 appreciated them, being connoisseurs.
 
 16 The Ironmaster. 
 
 Drunkenness led to renewed violence. 
 Rushing into the greenhouses, which were 
 kept up with marvellous care, these brutes 
 tore down and trampled upon the plants 
 and flowers, shattering the marble vases. 
 
 A beautiful Flora, by Pradier, was 
 standing in a mass of verdure upon a 
 low pedestal, at the foot of which gurgled 
 a stream of clear water, falling later into 
 a round basin of stone. A madman was 
 threatening to disfigure her lovely face 
 with a scythe, when another of the band, 
 seized by a sudden access of sensibility, 
 placed himself before the master-piece, 
 declaring that he was a friend to the arts, 
 and that he would thrust his pitchfork 
 into the body of the first who should 
 touch the statue. The Flora was saved. 
 
 Then, to compensate themselves, the 
 Pont-Avesnois thought of setting up a 
 Tree of Liberty. A young poplar was
 
 The Ironmaster. 17 
 
 quickly torn up from the park, and, after 
 decorating it with red shreds, they pro- 
 ceeded, with howlings of joy, to plant it 
 in the centre of the terrace. 
 
 Then they descended upon the town 
 and continued their revolutionary orgies, 
 shouting with all their might till nightfall. 
 The following morning a brigade of gen- 
 darmerie arrived ab Pont-Avesnes, and 
 order was restored without difficulty. 
 
 On hearing of this rash enterprise, the 
 Marquis began by laughing at it. Having 
 showered his benefits upon the Pont- 
 Avesnois, it appeared to him quite natural 
 that they should try to injure him. But 
 the act of planting the Tree of Liberty 
 upon his terrace filled him with indig- 
 nation. 
 
 This time the pleasantry appeared to 
 him to have passed beyond all bounds. 
 He gave orders to his gardener to up-root 
 
 VOL. i. c
 
 18 The 
 
 the young poplar, to saw it into pieces of 
 regular size, and to forward it to Paris 
 for his own especial fuel. He sent five 
 hundred francs to the Bacchanalian friend 
 of master-pieces, and caused it to be 
 declared to the Pont-Avesnois that, to 
 punish them for their little Revolutionary 
 farce, he would never again set foot in 
 Beaulieu. 
 
 The Borough, to which this being put 
 into quarantine was equivalent to a loss of 
 twenty thousand francs a year, caused 
 attempts at reconciliation to be made 
 through the Mayor, tried a petition signed 
 by the Municipal Council-board. Nothing 
 was of use. The Marquis would not 
 pardon the Tree of Liberty, and the 
 Chateau of Beaulieu remained dull and 
 empty. 
 
 It is true that the seductions of Pari- 
 sian life were of some weight in the reso-
 
 The Ironmaster. 19 
 
 lution taken by the Marquis. His club, 
 the theatres, sport and gallantry withdrew 
 him more surely from Beaulieu than his 
 rancour against his Peasants. However, 
 at the end of a few years of this life of 
 emotion and of pleasure, the Marquis be- 
 came weary of his follies, and, profiting 
 by an hour of wisdom, he married. 
 
 His young wife, a daughter of the Due 
 de Bligny, had a tender soul, and an 
 equable mind. She adored the Marquis 
 and knew how to close her eyes to his 
 weaknesses. He was one of those charm- 
 ing prodigals to whom pleasure is the 
 sole essence of life, and who has the hand 
 and the heart always open ; not knowing 
 how to resist a single wish of his wife, 
 but capable of letting her die of chagrin, 
 quieting his conscience by bitterly weep- 
 ing her loss. When the Marquise scolded 
 him maternally the day after a too great 
 c 2
 
 20 The Ironmaster. 
 
 folly, lie kissed her hands with tears in 
 his eyes, saying : " Thou art a saint !" 
 And the following day he would recom- 
 mence his indiscretions. 
 
 The honeymoon of the young married 
 people had lasted three years. This was 
 very surprising on the part of such a man 
 as the Marquis. From this union had 
 sprung two children. A son and a 
 daughter. Octave and Claire grew up 
 with, and were educated by their mother. 
 The heir solidly, and so as to become a 
 useful man. The daughter delicately, so 
 that she should one day become a charm- 
 ing wife and the delight of the man whom 
 she might love. By a caprice of nature, 
 the son was the living image of his 
 mother, gentle, affectionate, and of a 
 happy temperament ; the daughter had 
 the impetuous and ardent character of her 
 father. Education may soften nature, but
 
 The Ironmaster. 21 
 
 cannot change it. As they advanced in 
 age, Octave became the amiable young 
 fellow that he promised to be. Claire the 
 proud and haughty girl that her childhood 
 had predicted. 
 
 However, a companion soon arrived to 
 them, brought by misfortune and death. 
 The Due de Bligny, early left a widower, 
 with a young child, died miserably upon 
 the green turf of a racecourse, his back 
 broken by a fall from his horse. This 
 descendant of a noble race, who died like 
 a jockey, had squandered all but a small 
 fortune. His son Gaston, on leaving the 
 funeral ceremony, was led clad in his 
 mourning garb to the home of his aunt, 
 the Marquise, where he remained. 
 
 Treated as a third child of the house, 
 he grew up with Octave and Claire. 
 Older than they were, he already bore the 
 charm and the elegance of a refined race.
 
 22 Thf Ironmaster. 
 
 He had been neglected by his father, 
 whose life of dissipation had totally un- 
 fitted him for the care of watching over 
 his son. Sometimes given up to the ser- 
 vants, who initiated him into their intrigues 
 of the lower story, sometimes taken 
 by the Duke to his fast parties, and his 
 digestion impaired by the seasoned dishes 
 at the restaurants, the innocence of the 
 boy, between the profligacies of the lackeys 
 on one side, and the gallantries of his 
 father on the other, had stood some rude 
 shocks. 
 
 When he was brought to the Hotel de 
 Beaulieu, he was of a sickly constitution, 
 low-spirited, and slightly doubtful as to 
 his morals. In the pure atmosphere of 
 family life, he regained all the grace, all 
 the freshness of youth. At the age of 
 nineteen, his studies ended, he pro- 
 mised to become a charming cavalier,
 
 The Ironmaster. 23 
 
 and an accomplished gentleman. It was 
 at this period that he perceived that his 
 cousin Claire, younger than himself by 
 four years, was no longer a little girl. 
 
 A sudden transformation had been 
 worked in her. Like a lovely butterfly 
 bursting from its chrysalis, Claire had 
 bloomed forth in all the splendour of her 
 fair and radiant beauty. Her dark eyes 
 sparkled with a gentle brilliancy, and her 
 figure admirably developed, was of un- 
 paralleled elegance. Gaston adored her 
 madly. It came upon him like a thunder- 
 bolt. For two years he had carefully 
 concealed his secret in his own bosom. 
 
 A great misfortune caused him to speak. 
 In grief, confessions come more readily 
 from the heart. The Marquis de Beaulieu 
 died suddenly. This joyous liver dis- 
 appeared discreetly from life, a I'Anglaise. 
 He was not ill, but he ceased to live.
 
 24 The Ironmaster. 
 
 They found him lying on the floor of his 
 study. He had wished to peruse the docu- 
 ments relating to a law-suit that he was 
 engaged in against his collateral relations 
 in England. This unusual work had not 
 succeeded with him. 
 
 The doctors who wish to determine 
 everything with precision, and will not per- 
 mit any one to act without their opinion, 
 even to die, declared that the Marquis had 
 succumbed to the rupture of an aneurism. 
 His club friends shook their heads, and 
 said that poor Beaulieu had ended like 
 Moray, used up, worn out by his fast life. 
 It is certain that one cannot lead with 
 impunity the existence that the Marquis 
 had led for twenty-five years. 
 
 The most intimate of his friends thought 
 that the revelation made by his agent to 
 this superb spendthrift, that his capital 
 was devoured to the last sou, had killed
 
 The Ironmaster. 25 
 
 him as surely as if a ball had been lodged 
 in his heart. 
 
 The relatives of the Marquis did not 
 occupy themselves in seeking the cause of 
 his sudden death ; they only thought of 
 weeping for him. M. de Beaulieu was as 
 much loved and respected as if he had 
 been a model husband and father. The 
 Marquise, silently absorbed in her grief, 
 clothed her whole household in mourning, 
 and gave to him whom she had adored, 
 notwithstanding his faults, and whom she 
 bitterly regretted, princely obsequies. 
 Octave, henceforth Marquis de Beaulieu, 
 and the Due de Bligny, his brother by 
 adoption, led the funeral cortege, sup- 
 ported by the oldest Nobility of France. 
 In the evening when they re-entered the 
 Hotel gloomy and silent, they found the 
 Marquise and Claire clad in sombre black, 
 awaiting them in order to console and
 
 26 The Ironmaster. 
 
 thank them for the sad and painful task 
 that they had fulfilled. The Marquise 
 then shut herself up in her room with her 
 son to talk with him of the future. 
 And Gaston went with Claire into the 
 garden. 
 
 The lofty trees cast a dark shadow. It 
 was a beautiful summer evening, the air 
 heavy with the perfume of flowers. The 
 two young people walked slowly and with- 
 out speaking, around the greensward. 
 They were thoughtful and sad. AYith one 
 accord they paused and seated themselves 
 on a stone bench. A jet of water was 
 trickling into the marble basin at their 
 feet, and its monotonous murmur lulled 
 their reverie. Gaston suddenly broke the 
 silence, and, speaking fast, like one who 
 has too long restrained himself, expressed 
 to Claire, with deep feeling, his grief at 
 having lost the kind friend who had been
 
 The Ironmaster. 27 
 
 to him as a father. He was in a state of 
 agitation that it was impossible to control. 
 His nerves had been too cruelly shaken 
 throughout the day. The weakness of 
 his entire being abandoned him to the 
 poignant emotion of the present hour. 
 And, in spite of Ms efforts, he could 
 not refrain from tears, and began to 
 sob. 
 
 Then resting his head, heavy with grief, 
 in the burning hands of Claire, he cried : 
 
 " I shall never forget what thy family 
 has been to me. Whatever may befall me 
 in this life, thou. wilt always find me near 
 thee, I love thee so well ! " 
 
 And he repeated between his sobs : " I 
 love thee ! I love thee ! " 
 
 Claire gently raised the head of Gaston, 
 who was crimson, and almost ashamed of 
 his outburst, and, regarding him affec- 
 tionately, with a sweet smile :
 
 28 The Ironmaster. 
 
 " I, also, I love thee ! " said she. 
 
 " Claire ! " cried Gaston passionately. 
 
 The young girl placed her hand over 
 his mouth, and, with the solemnity of a 
 betrothal, lightly brushed his forehead 
 with her lips. Then slowly they rose, 
 and, leaning upon each other, resumed in 
 silence their walk around the grass-plot. 
 They thought no more of speaking. They 
 were listening to their hearts. 
 
 The following day, Octave de Beaulieu 
 began to read for the Bar, and Gaston 
 entered the office of the Minister for 
 Foreign Affairs. The Republican Govern- 
 ment sought at that time to attach to 
 itself the great names of the Aristocracy, 
 in order to reassure Europe, who saw 
 with unquiet eyes the Democracy tri- 
 umphant. 
 
 Launched into society, he produced a 
 great sensation by the elegance of his
 
 The Ironmaster. 29 
 
 figure, the beauty of his face, and the 
 charm of his conversation. He was much 
 sought by the mothers of marriageable 
 daughters, but remained indifferent to 
 their advances. His eyes were blind to 
 all but Claire ; and his happiest evenings 
 were those passed in the little salon of his 
 aunt, gazing at his cousin working, her 
 head bent over her embroidery. The 
 light shone on the careless ringlets which 
 fell over the nape of her white neck. 
 Gaston sat silent and absorbed, devour- 
 ing with his glance that golden .hair, that 
 he was longing to press passionately with 
 his lips. At ten o'clock he took leave of 
 the Marquise, clasped affectionately the 
 hand of Claire, and went out into the 
 world to dance till morning. 
 
 In the summer, the whole family flew 
 away to Normandy, to an estate of the 
 Marquise ; for, faithful to the rancour of
 
 30 The Ironmaster. 
 
 her husband, she had not yet returned 
 to Beaulieu. There Gaston was com- 
 pletely happy; he rode through the 
 woods with Octave and Claire, intoxi- 
 cated by the pure air, whilst the Marquise 
 ransacked the family archives to find 
 other documents relating to the law-suit 
 in England. 
 
 It was a question of a considerable sum 
 bequeathed to M. de Beaulieu by will. 
 The English kinsmen had contested the 
 legacy, and the solicitors of the two par- 
 ties entered into the cause as rats into 
 a cheese, enriching themselves by prolong- 
 ing the hostilities. The law-suit that the 
 Marquis had begun from self-love his 
 widow had continued from interest, for 
 the fortune of M. de Beaulieu was gravely 
 compromised by his follies ; and the heri- 
 tage in England represented the greater 
 part of the patrimony of her children.
 
 TJie Ironmaster. 31 
 
 The personal fortune of the Marquise was 
 handsome, but it only sufficed for the 
 heavy expenses of their ordinary life. 
 Madame de Beaulieu had thus become 
 a litigious woman, although she had a 
 horror of chicanery, in order to defend 
 the interests of Claire and of Octave ; and, 
 plunged in old dusty papers, in continual 
 correspondence with lawyers, she had 
 become strong on the subject of legal 
 procedure. 
 
 She had absolute confidence in the re- 
 sult of the law- suit. Her family believed 
 in her security, and Claire was considered 
 as being able to take two millions to him 
 who would be so happy as to please her. 
 She had already been asked in marriage, 
 and by aspirants of high birth and of large 
 fortune. She refused them. The Marquise, 
 disquieted, questioned her daughter; and 
 Claire, without hesitation, informed her
 
 32 The Ironmaster. 
 
 mother that she was affianced to the Due 
 de Bligny. 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu was but moderately 
 satisfied with this betrothal. Moreover, 
 she had very decided ideas upon the mar- 
 riage of cousins, and read Gaston with 
 singular penetration. She saw him vola- 
 tile, passionate, and inconstant, very ca- 
 pable of loving ardently, quite incapable 
 of loving faithfully. She did not wish, 
 however, to seek to influence her daughter, 
 being acquainted with the strangely firm 
 character of Claire, and knowing that 
 nothing would induce her to break an 
 engagement freely contracted. Besides, 
 at the bottom of her heart the Marquise 
 was flattered by an alliance which would 
 again bring into the family the name of 
 Bligny, that had been given up by herself 
 at her marriage. Therefore she received 
 her nephew kindly ; and, not being able
 
 The Ironmaster. 33 
 
 to treat him better than she had done up 
 to that time, continued to regard him as 
 a veritable son. 
 
 Meanwhile the Duke was named Secre- 
 tary to the Embassy at St. Petersburg ; 
 and, by mutual consent, it was resolved 
 that the marriage should take place during 
 the first leave of absence that the young 
 diplomatist might obtain. That leave was 
 given at the end of six months, Gaston 
 went to Paris, but for eight days only. 
 He was charged with a confidential mis- 
 sion, which the Ambassador had not been 
 willing to risk transmitting by a despatch 
 in cipher. 
 
 Eight days ! Could one in conscience 
 get married in eight days? There was 
 not even time to have the banns regularly 
 published. The young Duke was very 
 fond of Claire, but with a shade of care- 
 lessness that formed a strong contrast 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 The Ironmaster. 
 
 to his devoted tenderness of former 
 times. 
 
 After leaving Paris, Gaston had been 
 much in Kussian society, the most corrupt 
 in the world, and he returned with very 
 peculiar ideas upon love. The expression 
 of his face had altered in the same way 
 as the sentiments of his heart. His fea- 
 tures had grown marked and hard ; there 
 was a trace of profligacy upon his forehead, 
 formerly so clear. Claire did not or would 
 not see these changes. She had vowed 
 to the Duke an unalterable love ; and then 
 she had confidence in his honour as a 
 nobleman, and waited. Gaston' s letters, 
 at first frequent, grew more rare. They 
 were always filled with passionate 
 protestations. He professed to suffer 
 cruelly on hearing of the delays which 
 retarded his happiness ; but spoke 
 no more of returning. And two
 
 The Ironmaster. 35 
 
 years had glided away since his de- 
 parture. 
 
 At the request of her daughter, Madame 
 de Beaulieu closed her salons during the 
 two winters which had passed. The 
 bride-elect desired to live in retreat, 
 so as to avoid the solicitations of the 
 aspirants who would not be discou- 
 raged. Octave continued his studies for 
 the Bar, and the Marquise buried her- 
 self more and more in the dusty and 
 ancient papers of her interminable law- 
 suit. 
 
 At the return of spring, by one of those 
 caprices familiar to her, Claire wished to 
 visit the estate of Beaulieu, that her father, 
 during his life, had placed under an inter- 
 dict. The Marquise, incapable of resisting 
 the desire of her daughter, and thinking 
 it prudent to divert her mind, consented 
 to this removal. 
 
 D 2
 
 36 The Ironmaster. 
 
 And it is in this way that, one lovely 
 day in the month of October, the young 
 Marquis, quite recently received as a 
 licentiate, was met, with his gun upon 
 his shoulder, accompanied by his dark- 
 brown spaniel, in the woods of M. 
 Derblay.
 
 The Ironmaster. 37 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A T the hour when the young Marquis 
 was returning heavily laden to the 
 Chateau, Madame de Beaulieu and Claire 
 were sitting in the grand salon, enjoying 
 to the last the beautiful day. Through the 
 large glass door opening upon the perron 
 the sunlight entered in floods, causing 
 to glitter in its rays the embrowned gold 
 of the picture-frames, between the heavy 
 borders of which their ancestors were 
 depicted smiling or grave in their costumes 
 of ceremony. The furniture, of the date 
 of Louis XVI., in carved wood, painted 
 white, and relieved by mouldings of sea- 
 green, was covered with finely-worked 
 tapestry, representing the Metamorphoses
 
 38 The Ironmaster. 
 
 of Ovid. A large, low screen, hung with 
 Genoa velvet, surrounded the deep and 
 cushioned easy-chair in which the Marquise 
 had installed herself, knitting with great 
 attention hoods of wool for the little 
 children of the village. 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu had at this time 
 passed her fortieth year. Her face, grave 
 and sweet, was crowned with hair already 
 almost white, giving to her a grand air of 
 nobility. Her black eyes, full of melan- 
 choly, seemed yet humid from the secret 
 tears that they had shed. Frail and 
 slender, the Marquise had delicate health, 
 and took all kinds of precautions. On 
 this warm day, a large shawl was spread 
 over her knees, protecting from the 
 slightest air her small feet, that by a 
 persistent coquetry she shod in black 
 satin slippers. 
 
 Buried in a large arm-chair, her head
 
 The Ironmaster. 39 
 
 resting upon its tapestry-covered back, 
 her hands hanging listless and inert, 
 Claire, her eyes lost in the distance, gazed 
 at, without seeing, the beautiful landscape 
 displayed before her. She had been there 
 an hour, silent, motionless, bathed by the 
 sunshine, which made her golden hair 
 glitter like the aureole of a saint. 
 
 For some instants the Marquise regar- 
 ded her daughter with uneasiness. A sad 
 smile played around her lips, and, to 
 attract the attention of Claire, she pur- 
 posely moved the basket that contained 
 her balls of wool, accompanying this 
 action by a little significant : " hem ! 
 hem ! " But the young girl, insensible 
 to these indirect appeals, remained im- 
 movable, pursuing her thoughts with 
 inexorable tenacity. The Marquise thwar- 
 ted, laid her work upon the table, and, 
 raising herself in her easy-chair, said,
 
 40 The Ironmaster. 
 
 with a slight accent of remonstrance : 
 "Claire! . . . Claire! ..." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu closed her 
 eyes for a moment as if to say adieu 
 to her dream, and without changing the 
 position of her head, merely raising to 
 the arms of her chair her beautiful white 
 hands : 
 
 " My mother ! " answered she. 
 
 " Of what art thou thinking ? " 
 
 Claire was for an instant silent. The 
 shadow of a frown passed over her fore- 
 head. Then making an effort, and with a 
 calm air : 
 
 "I was thinking of nothing, mother," 
 she replied ; " this warm air has made me 
 drowsy . . . "Why did you call me ? " 
 
 " That thou mightst speak to me," said 
 the Marquise, with a shade of affectionate 
 reproach, " that thou shouldst not thus 
 remain dumb and absorbed."
 
 The Ironmaster. 41 
 
 There was a short silence. Claire had 
 resumed her pensive attitude. The 
 Marquise leaned forward, having thrown 
 aside her shawl without thinking of the 
 fresh air. Mademoiselle de Beaulieu 
 turned slowly towards her mother her 
 lovely sad face, and, as if continuing 
 aloud the thoughts that had before 
 silently occupied her : 
 
 " How long is it," said she, " since we 
 received letters from St. Petersburg ? " 
 
 The Marquise shook her head, seeming 
 to say : I knew what was troubling her. 
 And, in a voice that she tried to render 
 calm : " About two months." 
 
 " Two months ! yes ! " repeated Claire 
 with a sorrowful sigh. 
 
 This time the Marquise altogether lost 
 her patience ; rising abruptly, she went to 
 seat herself near the window, opposite her 
 daughter, and taking her hand, said :
 
 42 The Ironmaster. 
 
 " Let us see, why dost tliou incessantly 
 think of that, only to torture in this way 
 thy mind ? " 
 
 " Of what should I think," said Claire 
 with bitterness, " if not of my betrothed ? 
 And how is it possible that I should not 
 torture my mind, as you say, to find 
 motives for his silence ? " 
 
 " I own," replied the Marquise, " that 
 it is difficult to explain it. The Due de 
 Bligny, my nephew, after having passed 
 eight days with us last year, left, promising 
 to return to Paris in the winter. He at 
 first wrote that political complications 
 would detain him at his post. Then he 
 pretended that the winter being over he 
 would wait till the summer to return to- 
 France. Summer has come, but the Duke 
 does not come. Here is the autumn, and 
 Gaston makes no more excuses. He does 
 not even take the trouble to write to us.
 
 The Ironmaster. 43 
 
 Let us admit that there has been on 
 his part only negligence. It is already 
 far too much ! My daughter, every- 
 thing degenerates : the men of our 
 world no longer know how to be 
 polite." 
 
 And the Marquise proudly raised her 
 white head, which gave her an air of 
 resemblance to the family portraits of the 
 great ladies with powdered hair, who were 
 smiling all around the salon from their 
 gilded frames. 
 
 "But if he should be ill?" hazarded 
 Claire, drawn to defend him whom she 
 loved. " If it were impossible for him 
 to give us news? " 
 
 " It is inadmissible," replied the 
 Marquise pitilessly ; " they would have 
 informed us from the Embassy. Be sure 
 that he is in perfect health ; that he is 
 happy and joyous ; and that throughout the
 
 44 The Ironmaster. 
 
 winter he has led the cotillon in the first 
 circles of St. Petersburg." 
 
 A nervous frown contracted the face of 
 Claire. She turned pale, as if all the 
 blood in her veins had flowed back to her 
 heart. Then, forcing herself to smile : 
 
 " He had so often promised to spend 
 the winter in Paris ; and it would have 
 been to me a, fete to have found myself in 
 our world with him ! I should have 
 triumphed in his success. He would, 
 perhaps, have seen mine. You must own, 
 my mother, that he is not jealous. Never- 
 theless, he has had reason to be so. 
 Wherever we have gone, I have been 
 much surrounded. Here, even in this 
 desert of Beaulieu, it has not ceased, 
 and our neighbour, the Ironmaster, has 
 begun to " 
 
 "M. Derblay?" 
 
 " M. Derblay ; yes, my mother. Last
 
 The Ironmaster. 45 
 
 Sunday at mass, you did not re- 
 mark it, you are too pious, I was 
 reading my prayers at your side, but, 
 without knowing why, I felt myself 
 troubled. A power stronger than my 
 will drew my attention. In spite of 
 myself I turned, I raised my eyes, and 
 in the shadow of a chapel I saw 
 M. Derblay bending." 
 
 " He was praying." 
 
 " No, my mother, he was looking at 
 me. Our eyes met, and in his I read a 
 mute prayer. I lowered my head and 
 forced myself to turn no more to that 
 side. On leaving I saw him in the porch 
 waiting. He did not dare to offer me the 
 holy water. He bowed profoundly, we 
 passed, and I felt his eyes following me. 
 It appears that it is the first time this 
 year that he has been seen at mass." 
 
 The Marquise rose, and returning to
 
 46 The Iron/master. 
 
 her easy -chair on which she gently 
 sank : 
 
 "Well! that will count towards the 
 salvation of his soul. Instead of making 
 soft eyes at thee, he would do well to 
 indemnify us for the encroachment that he 
 has made upon our boundaries. I find his 
 dumb invocations a bad pleasantry. And 
 thou must have much leisure to occupy 
 thyself with the sighs of this beater of 
 iron, who one of these mornings will 
 deafen us with his hammers." 
 
 "My mother, the attentions of M. 
 Derblay are respectful, and I have no rea- 
 son to complain of them. I only speak to 
 you of the Ironmaster because he is one 
 amongst others. In short, the heart of 
 woman is changeable, they say . . . The 
 Duke is not here to defend his own . . . 
 And, for myself, the role of Penelope, 
 awaiting perpetually the return of him
 
 The Ironmaster. 47 
 
 who does not come, may end by wearying 
 me. Gaston ought to think of all that . . . 
 But he does not. And I remain quite 
 alone, patient, faithful . . . ' 
 
 "And thou art wrong!" cried the 
 Marquise with vivacity. "If I were in 
 thy place " 
 
 "No, my mother," interrupted Made- 
 moiselle de Beaulieu, with grave firmness, 
 " I am not wrong, and I can claim no 
 merit for acting as I do, for I love the 
 Due de Bligny." 
 
 " Thou dost love him ! " exclaimed the 
 Marquise, not being able to dissimulate 
 her irritation. "How thou dost always 
 exaggerate ! To make of the friendship 
 of childhood a profound love ; of the ties 
 of relationship an indestructible chain ! 
 Gaston and thou grew up together. Thou 
 hast fancied that this community of 
 existence ought to be perpetual, and that
 
 48 The Ironmaster. 
 
 \ 
 
 thou couldst not be happy without the 
 Duke . . . Follies, all follies, my child ! " 
 
 " My mother ! " cried Claire. 
 
 But the Marquise was launched, and the 
 opportunity that had been offered to her 
 to relieve her mind was too good for her 
 to allow it to escape. 
 
 " Thou hast great illusions with regard 
 to the Duke. He is fickle, frivolous. He 
 has, thou knowest it, habits of indepen- 
 dence that he will not be able to correct. 
 And I foresee many awakenings for thee 
 in the future. Stay ! Wilt thou have the 
 whole of my thoughts ? I should not see 
 without inquietude this marriage take 
 place ! " 
 
 Claire sat upright. A bright colour 
 flamed in her cheeks. The two women 
 looked at each other a moment without 
 speaking. It seemed that the first word 
 pronounced between them would be of
 
 The Ironmaster. 49 
 
 exceptional gravity. Claire could not re- 
 strain herself, and, with a trembling voice : 
 
 " My mother, this is the first time that 
 you have spoken to me thus. It appears 
 that you wish to prepare me to hear bad 
 tidings. The absence of the Duke, can it 
 be caused by serious reasons that you are 
 hiding from me ? Have you learned ? ' ' 
 
 The Marquise was alarmed at seeing the 
 violent agitation of her daughter. She 
 understood better than ever how deep was 
 the attachment of Claire. She saw that 
 she had gone too far, and making a 
 prompt retreat : 
 
 " No, my child, I know nothing," 
 replied she. " They have told me nothing. 
 I even find that they have not said enough. 
 And a silence so prolonged on the part of 
 my nephew astonishes me . . . Truly it 
 appears to me that Gaston indeed pushes 
 a little far his diplomacy ! " 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 50 The Ironmaster. 
 
 Claire was re-assured. She attributed 
 the outbreak of her mother to a discon- 
 tent that she herself could hardly sup- 
 press. And forcing herself to resume her 
 serenity : 
 
 "Now, my mother, let us still have a 
 little patience . . . The Duke thinks of us, 
 I am sure of it. And he intends to sur- 
 prise us by arriving unexpectedly from 
 St. Petersburg." 
 
 " I wish it, my daughter, as thou 
 desires t it. In any case, my nephew de 
 Prefont and his wife will arrive here to- 
 day. They are coming from Paris. Per- 
 haps they will be better informed as to 
 his movements than we are." 
 
 " See, here is Octave returning by the 
 terrace with Maitre Bachelin ..." said 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu quickly, rising 
 with precipitation, desirous to escape from 
 this painful conversation.
 
 The Ironmaster. 51 
 
 The young girl left the salon and. 
 advanced into the bright light. She was 
 at this time twenty-two years of age and 
 in the full splendour of her beauty. Her 
 tall, erect figure was admirably propor- 
 tioned. 
 
 She had superb shoulders, white and 
 graceful arms, with the hands of a queen. 
 Her golden hair, knotted upon the top of 
 her head, exposed to view the creamy and 
 rounded nape of her neck. Carelessly 
 leaning, her hands resting upon the iron 
 balustrade of the perron, playing absently 
 with the blossoms of the climbing plants 
 which had entwined themselves around it, 
 she appeared the living embodiment of 
 youth in its grace and vigour. 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu looked at her for 
 
 a moment, admiringly. Then shook her 
 head and sighed. 
 
 The steps of the arrivals were heard on 
 E 2
 
 52 The Ironmaster. 
 
 the gravel of the terrace, and their voices 
 confusedly reached the salon. 
 
 Maitre Bachelin was a little man of 
 about sixty, rounded by the inactivity of 
 his office life. His face very red under 
 his white hair, scrupulously shaven, dressed 
 in black, with a suspicion of white cuffs 
 falling over his hands, he was the exact 
 type of the notary of the Ancien Regime. 
 Deeply attached to his noble clients, 
 saying : " Madame la Marquise " with 
 devout unction, he upheld the interests of 
 the de Beaulieu family by hereditary 
 right. The Bachelins were, from 
 birth, the notaries of the Lords of 
 the country. And the last of these 
 respectable public officers was the proud 
 possessor of a charter from the time of 
 Louis XL, upon which was paraded the 
 rude signature of the feudal Lord, the 
 Marquis Honord Onfroy, Jacques, Octave,
 
 The Ironmaster. 53 
 
 with the sign-manual ornamented by love- 
 knots of Maitre Joseph Antoine Bachelin, 
 Notary to the King. 
 
 The return of the masters of Beaulieu 
 to their Chateau had caused great joy to 
 the worthy man. For him it was a re- 
 entrance into grace. He had groaned 
 over the absence of his noble clients. And 
 having them again in this beautiful 
 country, he hoped to see them resume 
 their former habit of spending every 
 summer on the estate. Jealous of making 
 his knowledge appreciated, he had placed 
 himself at the disposition of Madame de 
 Beaulieu, in order to disentangle the con- 
 fused threads of the law-suit in England. 
 And for six weeks he had kept up with 
 the solicitor an active correspondence 
 which had set a match to the affair. In 
 one month and a half, Maitre Bachelin 
 had done more work than all the counsels
 
 54 The Ironmaster. 
 
 of the Beaulieu family had achieved in ten 
 years. And, notwithstanding the pre- 
 dictions of evil made by the clever man 
 with regard to the result of the contest 
 engaged in, the Marquise was enchanted 
 with his assistance and amazed at his 
 ardour. She discovered in him one of 
 those devoted servants worthy of being 
 elevated to the rank of friends. Con- 
 sequently, she treated him as a friend. 
 
 Maitre Bachelin, on his way to the 
 Chateau, met the young Marquis at the 
 iron gate of the park, and, seeing him 
 heavily laden, forcibly took from him his 
 gun, which he carried under his left arm, 
 holding tightly under his right a bulky 
 portfolio of black leather, stuffed with 
 papers. 
 
 " Oh ! how encumbered you are, my 
 poor M. Bachelin ! " said Claire gaily to 
 the Notary, who was hurriedly ascending
 
 The Ironmaster. 55 
 
 the steps of the perron, attempting to raise 
 his hat, and to make ceremonious bows. 
 
 "Will you accept my very humble 
 respects, Mademoiselle ? As you see, I 
 am at this moment uniting the attributes 
 of justice and of arms . . . The Code under 
 one arm, the gun under the other . . . But 
 the gun is under the left arm . . . Cedant 
 arma togce ! A thousand pardons ! with- 
 out doubt you do not understand Latin, 
 and I am only a pedant." 
 
 " My sister, at least, understands so 
 much Latin," said the Marquis, laughing 
 . . . "And you are the best man in the 
 world . . . Now give me back my gun . . . 
 Thanks ! . . . " 
 
 And taking it from the Notary, Octave 
 followed him up the perron. 
 
 " Thou hast had good sport, it seems to 
 me," said Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, stop- 
 ping her brother upon the threshold of
 
 56 The Ironmaster. 
 
 the salon, and raising the game-bag which 
 weighed upon his shoulders. 
 
 " I shall be modest, and not adorn 
 myself with the plumes of the peacock . . . 
 This game was not killed by myself." 
 
 " And by whom, then ? " 
 
 " I do not know. Truly! ..." added the 
 Marquis, seeing his sister make a gesture 
 of astonishment. " Picture to thyself that 
 I was lost in the woods of Pont-Avesnes, 
 when I met another sportsman, who made 
 some observations to me, and asked who 
 I was, with a commanding manner and in 
 a peremptory tone. But as soon as he 
 knew my name he became not only con- 
 ciliating but even amiable, making me 
 take, almost by force, the game that is in 
 my bag." 
 
 " How singular ! " said Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu. "Did this man wish to 
 mock thee?"
 
 The Ironmaster. 57 
 
 " Ma foij no ! I do not think it. He 
 seemed, on the contrary, anxious to be 
 agreeable to me . . . And, his offering 
 made, he escaped as fast as his legs could 
 carry him, to prevent my refusing it." 
 
 " Will Monsieur le Marquis permit me 
 to ask him a question ? " said Maitre 
 Bachelin, who had listened to the narra- 
 tive with great attention. 
 
 "Ask it, I beg you, my dear Maitre." 
 
 " Well ! what kind of man was the 
 sportsman in question ? " 
 
 " A tall, active fellow, very dark, wear- 
 ing an old grey felt hat and a blouse." 
 
 "Ah! ah! It is indeed he!" said the 
 Notary, in a low voice. " It is in my 
 power, M. le Marquis, to give you the 
 name of your mysterious donor. It is 
 simply M. Derblay." 
 
 "Monsieur Derblay!" cried the Mar- 
 quis, " muffled up in a blouse like a
 
 58 The Ironmaster. 
 
 peasant, and wearing a battered hat like 
 a smuggler ? Impossible ! " 
 
 " Do not forget, M. le Marquis," replied 
 Maitre Bachelin with a smile, " that here 
 we are rustic sportsmen. I, who have the 
 pretension of showing myself decently 
 dressed in ordinary life, if you were to 
 meet me out shooting, in a corner of a 
 wood, you would be afraid of me. It is 
 M. Derblay, you may be sure of it. If I 
 did not recognise him by the portrait that 
 you have just sketched which is striking, 
 the amiable offer that he made you 
 would be sufficient to dissipate my doubts. 
 It is certainly he." 
 
 " Then I have been polite ! I told him, in 
 speaking of himself, that he was a trouble- 
 some neighbour . . . and many other dis- 
 obliging things. I must really go to make 
 him my apologies." 
 
 " You will not have to take that trouble,
 
 The Ironmaster. 59 
 
 M. le Marquis, and if you will announce 
 iny visit to Madame your mother, I will, 
 in her presence, make you acquainted with 
 certain facts, which will modify, I am quite 
 certain, the opinion you have formed of 
 M. Derblay." 
 
 "Ma foil I ask no better," said Octave, 
 disencumbering himself of his game-bag 
 and gun. " The Ironmaster has the air 
 of a good fellow." 
 
 While speaking, the Marquis entered 
 the salon, approached Madame de Beau- 
 lieu, and, having respectfully kissed her 
 hand: 
 
 "Maitre Bachelin is here, my mother, 
 and wishes to see you." 
 
 "Why does he not enter?" said the 
 Marquise with vivacity. " Here are ten 
 minutes that I have heard you babbling 
 upon the perron. Good day, my dear 
 Bachelin . . "
 
 60 The Ironmaster. 
 
 And as the Notary bent as low as his 
 plump figure would permit : 
 
 " Do you bring me good news ? " added 
 the Marquise. 
 
 The face of Bachelin changed its ex- 
 pression. From smiling it became over- 
 cast, and, evading the question put to him 
 by his noble client, the Notary replied in 
 a grave tone : 
 
 " I bring you news, yes, Madame la 
 Marquise . . . ' 
 
 And, as if in haste to pass to another 
 subject : 
 
 " I went this morning to Pont-Avesnes, 
 and I have seen M. Derblay. All the 
 difficulties which have arisen between you 
 and himself, on the subject of your 
 boundaries in common, are removed. My 
 honourable friend accepts all the conditions 
 that you may please to dictate. He is 
 happy to place himself at your discretion."
 
 The Ironmaster. 61 
 
 " But, if it be thus," said Madame de 
 Beaulieu, with slight embarrassment, " we 
 have no conditions to dictate. When 
 there is no conflict, there is neither 
 vanquisher nor vanquished. The affair 
 will be submitted to your arbitration, my 
 dear Bachelin, and all that you do will be 
 well done." 
 
 " This is a resolution that enchants me, 
 and I am happy to see peace re-estab- 
 lished between the Foundry and the 
 Chateau. There is, then, only to sign the 
 preliminaries. With this aim, M. Derblay 
 intends to present himself at Beaulieu 
 with his sister, Mademoiselle Suzanne, 
 to pay his respects to you, Madame la 
 Marquise ; if, however, you deign to 
 authorize it . . . ' 
 
 " Certainly ! Let him come ! I shall 
 be very pleased to see him, this Cyclops 
 who blackens the whole valley . . . Ah ! but
 
 62 The Ironmaster. 
 
 I suppose it is not only this treaty of peace 
 which is thus swelling your portfolio," said 
 Madame de Beaulieu, pointing to the 
 case of the Notary. " You are, doubtless, 
 bringing me some fresh documents re- 
 lating to our law-suit in England ? " 
 
 " Yes, Madame la Marquise, yes," an- 
 swered Bachelin, with a more marked 
 agitation. " If you are willing, we will 
 speak of business . . . ' 
 
 And with a supplicating look at the 
 Marquise, the Notary glanced at her son 
 and her daughter. 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu understood. A 
 vague inquietude stirred her heart. What 
 was there of so grave a nature that her 
 confidential adviser should warn her that 
 closed doors were necessary? But the 
 Marquise was a woman of resolution. 
 Her hesitation was of short duration, and 
 turning to her son :
 
 The Ironmaster. 63 
 
 " Octave," said she, " wilt thou see if 
 orders have been given to go to the 
 station to meet our cousins who will 
 arrive at five o'clock ? " 
 
 At these words, Claire raised her head. 
 Her brother gave a start. The intention 
 of the Marquise was evident. She sought 
 a pretext to send away her son. There 
 was between these three beings who loved 
 each other so tenderly a mysterious pre- 
 occupation that they mutually tried to 
 conceal. Claire and the Marquis, without 
 asking questions, smiled at their mother, 
 and retired each in an opposite direction. 
 
 Mademoiselle de .Beaulieu descended 
 slowly to the terrace. The idea that 
 Bachelin had brought news of the Due 
 de Bligny had suddenly come to her, and, 
 profoundly moved, feeling her thoughts 
 whirling rapidly in her brain without 
 being able to seize one of them, she
 
 64 The Ironmaster. 
 
 walked under the tall trees, losing all 
 sense of time, and plunged in a deep and 
 anxious reverie. 
 
 In the salon, the Marquise and Bachelin 
 were alone. The Notary made no more 
 efforts to give a smiling expression to his 
 face. He was grave and pre-occupied. 
 Madame de Beaulieu kept silence for a 
 moment, as if wishing to enjoy to the last 
 minute the tranquillity that she still pos- 
 sessed. Then, taking a resolution : 
 
 " Well ! my dear Bachelin, what have 
 you to tell me ? " 
 
 The Notary sorrowfully shook his head. 
 
 " Nothing good, Madame la Marquise," 
 replied he. " And it is to me, an old 
 retainer of your family, a subject of great 
 affliction. The result of the suit, begun 
 in his life by the late Marquis de Beaulieu, 
 your husband, against his collaterals in 
 England, is gravely compromised."
 
 The Ironmaster. 65 
 
 "You are nob telling me the entire 
 truth, Bachelin," interrupted the Mar- 
 quise. " If there were yet a shade of 
 hope, you would not be so dejected. 
 Speak, I am strong, I can hear all. Have 
 the English Tribunals decided? Is the 
 law-suit lost ? . . . ' 
 
 The Notary had not the courage to 
 answer. He made a gesture that was 
 equivalent to the most desolating avowal. 
 The Marquise bit her lips, a tear glistened 
 on her eye-lashes, soon dried by the flush 
 that mounted to her face. Bachelin, in 
 consternation, began to walk hurriedly up 
 and down the salon. He had forgotten all 
 respect. He remembered no* more the 
 venerated place in which he was, and, 
 carried away by his emotion, gesticulating 
 as when studying a case in his office, he 
 said : 
 
 " The cause was badly managed ! The 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 The Ironmaster. 
 
 solicitors are asses ! and covetous ! They 
 write you a letter, it is so much . . . You 
 answer their letter, they read the answer, 
 it is so much ... If the Marquis had asked 
 my advice earlier ! But he was in Paris ; 
 and his lawyer directed it badly . . . They 
 too are asses, these lawyers of Paris! 
 Fellows who only know how to drive a 
 pen over stamped paper ! " 
 
 He stopped abruptly, and striking his 
 hands together : " Here is a terrible blow 
 for the House of Beaulieu ! " 
 
 " Terrible, indeed," said the Marquise, 
 " and it causes the ruin of my son and 
 of my daughter. At least ten years of 
 economy will be necessary so that out of 
 my fortune I may be able to retrieve our 
 position . . . ' 
 
 Bachelin ceased to perambulate the 
 salon. His calmness returned, and now 
 he listened to Madame de Beaulieu with
 
 The Ironmaster. 67 
 
 pitying respect. He knew that the loss 
 of the law- suit was irremediable, having 
 just received the judgment. And no re- 
 source, no appeal was possible. The dis- 
 dainful negligence of the Marquis had 
 permitted his adversaries to gain serious 
 advantages, and afterwards the struggle 
 was indefensible. 
 
 " Misfortune rarely comes singly," con- 
 tinued the Marquise. " You must have 
 other bad news for me Bachelin. While 
 I am here, tell me everything," added 
 Madame de Beaulieu with a resigned smile. 
 " I do not think it possible to be more 
 deeply wounded than I am." 
 
 " I wish I could share that confidence, 
 Madame la Marquise. The intelligence I 
 have yet to give you does not appear to 
 me so painful. But I am acquainted 
 with the tenderness of your heart and 
 I fear that of these two misfortunes 
 P 2
 
 68 The Ironmaster. 
 
 the loss of money will seem to you the 
 least ..." 
 
 The Marquise turned pale, and an ex- 
 treme agitation overcame her. She had a 
 presentiment of that which her confiden- 
 tial adviser was about to tell, and, in- 
 capable of restraining herself: 
 
 " You have tidings of the Due de 
 Bligny ? " exclaimed she. 
 
 " I was charged by you, Madame, to 
 inquire into the life and actions of 
 Monsieur your nephew," said the Notary, 
 with a shade of disdain very charac- 
 teristic in this fervent worshipper of 
 the aristocracy. " I followed exactly 
 your instructions, and this is the infor- 
 mation transmitted to me. M. le Due de 
 Bligny has been in Paris six weeks." 
 
 " Six weeks ! " repeated the Marquise 
 with stupefaction. " And we ignorant of 
 it!"
 
 The Ironmaster. 69 
 
 " Monsieur your nephew was careful 
 to conceal it from you . . . ' 
 
 " And he has not come ! He is not 
 coming, though acquainted with the re- 
 verse that has befallen us ! For he knows 
 it ; is it not true ! " 
 
 " He has known it, Madame la Mar- 
 quise, from the first ! " 
 
 " Ah ! you were right, Bachelin ; this 
 wounds me more cruelly than the loss of 
 money. The Duke forsakes us. He has 
 not come, and he will not come, I had a 
 presentiment of it. What he wanted 
 from us was a fortime. The fortune has 
 disappeared, the lover abandons us. 
 Money is the pass-word of this epoch, 
 mercenary and avaricious. Beauty, 
 virtue, intelligence, none of these 
 count ! They do not say : ' Place to 
 the most worthy ! ' they cry : ' Place 
 to the most rich ! ' Now we are
 
 70 The Ironmaster. 
 
 almost poor, they will know us no 
 
 more." 
 
 Baclielin heard with tranquillity the 
 violent apostrophe of the afflicted mother. 
 In spite of himself, the Notary could not 
 dissimulate a secret satisfaction. He 
 again became very red, and mechanically 
 rubbed his hands behind his back. 
 
 " Madame la Marquise," said he, " I 
 believe that you are calumniating our 
 epoch. Certainly, positive ideas dominate 
 it, and the natural cupidity of the human 
 race has made notable progress. But you 
 must not condemn in,a lump all our con- 
 temporaries. There are still some dis- 
 interested men to whom beauty, virtue, 
 and intelligence are qualities which make a 
 woman enviable amongst all others. I do 
 not say that I am acquainted with many 
 of these men, but I know at least one, 
 and of that kind one only suffices."
 
 The Ironmaster. 71 
 
 " What do you wish to say ? " asked the 
 Marquise wonderingly. 
 
 " Simply this," pursued the Notary ; 
 " that an upright man, one of my friends, 
 has not been able to see Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu without becoming passionately 
 enamoured. Believing her to be affianced 
 to the Duke, he would not dare to make 
 known his sentiments. But let her be 
 free, and he will speak, if you deign to 
 authorize it." 
 
 The Marquise fixedly regarded Bachelin: 
 
 " It is of M. Philippe Derblay that you 
 are speaking, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes, Madame la Marquise, of himself," 
 replied the Notary, intrepidly. 
 
 " I am not ignorant of the sentiments 
 that my daughter has inspired in the 
 ironmaster," resumed the Marquise. " He 
 does not sufficiently conceal them." 
 
 " Ah ! it is that he loves Mademoiselle
 
 72 The Ironmaster. 
 
 Claire, and sincerely," said the Notary, 
 with spirit . . . "But you are not acquainted 
 with M. Derblay, Madame la Marquise, 
 and cannot judge of his worth." 
 
 " I am aware that he is highly esteemed 
 in the country . . . But you, my dear Bache- 
 lin, you are intimate with his family ? " 
 
 " I have known M. Philippe and his 
 sister, Mademoiselle Suzanne, from their in- 
 fancy. Their father called me his friend . . . 
 This explains to you, Madame la Marquise, 
 the boldness with which I have named to 
 you the sentiments of M. Derblay. I hope 
 that you will pardon me for it. In my 
 eyes, my client has but one defect, his 
 name, which is written in one singte 
 word without the prefix. But, in seeking 
 well, who knows ? The family is very old. 
 In the Revolution, honest people shrank 
 from each other : letters may easily have 
 done the same."
 
 The Ironmaster. 73 
 
 " Let him keep his name as it is," said 
 the Marquise, sadly. " He bears it as a 
 man of honour, and, in the days in which 
 we live, that is sufficient. Look at the 
 Due de Bligny, who forsakes Claire when 
 she is impoverished, then see M. Derblay, 
 who seeks a girl without fortune, and tell 
 me, which is the gentleman, the Noble or 
 the Commoner ? " 
 
 "M. Derblay would be very happy, 
 Madame,if he heard you." 
 
 " Repeat nothing to him that I have 
 said to you," interrupted gravely the 
 Marquise; "Mademoiselle de Beaulieu 
 cannot receive favours from any one. And 
 with her disposition, it is probable that 
 she will die unmarried. Please Grod, my 
 friend, that the double blow about to 
 strike her may find her strong and re- 
 signed." 
 
 The Notary remained for an instant
 
 74 The Ironmaster. 
 
 speechless ; then, his voice trembling with 
 emotion : 
 
 "Whatever may happen, Madame la 
 Marquise, remember that M. Derblay will 
 be the most fortunate of men if he is ever 
 permitted to hope. He will wait, for he 
 is not one of those whose heart changes. 
 I anticipate in these events many chagrins 
 for us all, for you will permit me, an old 
 retainer of your family, to count myself 
 amongst those destined to suffer with you 
 in your troubles. Now, if I may be 
 allowed to advise, I would persuade you 
 to say nothing to Mademoiselle de Beau- 
 lieu. The Due de Bligny will, perhaps, 
 return to his allegiance ; and, if not, it 
 will then be time enough for Mademoiselle 
 Claire to suffer. 
 
 "You are right. As for my son, I 
 ought to tell him of the misfortune that 
 has struck us."
 
 The Ironmaster. 75 
 
 And walking to the perron, the Mar- 
 quise, with a gesture, called the young man, 
 who, seated upon the terrace, was patiently 
 awaiting the end of the conference. 
 
 " Well ! " said he with gaiety, " is the 
 sitting over ? or have you called me that I 
 may sit with you ? " 
 
 " I wish," gently replied the Marquise, 
 " to make thee acquainted with some 
 grave intelligence, which causes me keen 
 
 sorrow." 
 
 The Marquis became serious in a mo- 
 ment, and, turning to his mother : 
 
 "What is it, then?" 
 
 " My son, Maitre Bachelin has received 
 a definite communication from our legal 
 representative in England." 
 
 " On the subject of the law-suit ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Octave drew near the Marquise, and, 
 affectionately taking her hand :
 
 76 The Ironmaster. 
 
 " Well," said he, " is it lost ? " 
 
 The Marquise, amazed at seeing with 
 what coolness her son received these dis- 
 astrous tidings, gazed at Bachelin, as if 
 asking for an explanation. But, seeing the 
 Notary stand impassive, she glanced back 
 at her son. 
 
 " But thou didst know it, then ? " ex- 
 claimed she, breathing more freely, as if 
 relieved by the calm resignation of the 
 Marquis. 
 
 " I did not absolutely know it," answered 
 the young man; "but I suspected it. I 
 did not wish to tell you, having too much 
 respect for your illusions ; but I was per- 
 fectly convinced that this law-suit could 
 not be defended. Also, for some time, I 
 have been prepared for its loss. I only 
 feared it for my sister, whose dowry was 
 at stake. But there is a very simple way 
 of arranging that. You will give her the
 
 The Ironmaster. 77 
 
 share in your fortune that you are reserv- 
 ing for me. And, as for myself, do not be 
 troubled. I shall do very well." 
 
 At these generous words the Marquise 
 reddened with pride. And turning to the 
 Notary : 
 
 " Of what can I complain," said she, 
 " having such a son ? " and, extending 
 her arms to the Marquis, who was affec- 
 tionately smiling : 
 
 " Thou art a good child ! Come, that I 
 may embrace thee ! " 
 
 " I deserve no praise, said the Marquis, 
 with emotion. " I love my sister, and I 
 will do all that is possible to make her 
 happy. And now that we are speaking of 
 these sad subjects, is it not your opinion 
 that the silence of our Cousin de Bligny is 
 connected with this lost law-suit ? " 
 
 " Thou art mistaken, my child," quickly 
 said the Marquise, making a movement
 
 78 The Ironmaster. 
 
 as if to restrain her son ..." And the 
 Duke? ..." 
 
 " Oh, fear nothing, my mother ! " inter- 
 rupted Octave, with scornful pride. " If 
 Gastoii hesitates to keep his engagement, 
 now that Mademoiselle de Beaulieu can no 
 longer present herself to him with a million 
 in each hand, we are not the kind of people, 
 I think, to take him by the collar and force 
 him to respect his word. And, as things 
 now are, I consider that, if the Due de 
 Bligny does not marry my sister, it will be 
 so much the worse for him and so much 
 the better for her." 
 
 " Well said, my son," cried the Marquise. 
 
 " Well said, M. le Marquis," added 
 Bachelin. " And, if Mademoiselle de Beau- 
 lieu is no longer rich enough to tempt a 
 hunter of dowries, she will always be 
 perfect enough to captivate a man of 
 heart."
 
 The Ironmaster. 79 
 
 With a glance, the Marquise imposed 
 silence on Bachelin; and he, happy at 
 seeing a crisis that had seemed to him 
 about to become terrible end so favour- 
 ably, having taken leave of his noble 
 clients, started with all the swiftness of 
 his legs, already stiffening with years, 
 on the road to Pont-Avesnes.
 
 80 The Ironmaster. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 TT was indeed M. Derblay, as Bachelin 
 affirmed, that the Marquis had en- 
 countered dressed like a poacher, in the 
 woods of Pont-Avesnes. Leaving Octave 
 to call after him, he rushed across the 
 wood, in a straight line, not heeding the 
 whip-like blows of the branches nor the 
 clutches of the brambles. He was laugh- 
 ing nervously, murmuring words inter- 
 rupted by exclamations, profoundly joyous 
 at the chance that had drawn him nearer 
 to her whom he adored as one adores a 
 young queen, from a distance and as a 
 dream. 
 
 He descended the hill that led to the 
 valley, devouring the ground with his long
 
 The Ironmaster. 81 
 
 legs, unconscious of the rapidity of his 
 walk which brought drops of moisture to 
 his forehead. He was following his 
 thoughts that flew swiftly as with wings. 
 When the Marquis should know with 
 whom he had conversed, for he would 
 certainly end by knowing it, he would feel 
 gratified by the courtesy his " troublesome 
 neighbour " had shown him. And who 
 knows ? There might perhaps follow a 
 reconciliation. And he would see in her 
 own home that adorable Claire, whose 
 sweet face smiled perpetually in his 
 memory. He might speak to her. It 
 seemed to him that his words would be 
 stifled in his throat, and that he would be 
 dumb before her, overwhelmed by his 
 emotion. Then, taking refuge in some 
 dark corner of the salon, from whence he 
 could regard her at pleasure, in gazing at 
 her he would forget himself and be happy. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 The Ironmaster. 
 
 Happy ! And how ? To what could this 
 mad passion lead him ? To assist as a 
 friend at the marriage of her whom he 
 airdently desired. For he was certain that 
 the .Due de Bligny would return to her. 
 
 How could a man loved by such a 
 woman, how could he be mad enough to 
 neglect her ? And if it were not the Duke, 
 another aspirant would present himself, a 
 brilliant nobleman, having only to appear 
 and to give his name to be welcomed with 
 open arms. While he, the commoner, 
 would be repulsed with scornful coldness. 
 
 A profound sadness stole over him at 
 that thought. His pace slackened and 
 languished. He no longer hastened to- 
 wards Pont-Avesnes, fleeing like a wild 
 animal through the lofty trees. But 
 walked with slow steps, mechanically 
 plucking leaves from the lower branches, 
 and crushing them between his fingers.
 
 The Ironmaster. 83 
 
 What a misfortune was his not to be able 
 to aspire to the possession of that idolised 
 creature ! And, pensive, he stopped at 
 the foot of an oak. His back leaning 
 against the trunk of the tree, without 
 thinking of seating himself, he stood 
 dreaming, his face grave and pale, his 
 eyes moistened by the cruel anguish of 
 his heart. 
 
 He recalled to memory all that he 
 had done in his life, and asked himself if 
 the tasks accomplished had not rendered 
 him worthy of every happiness. After 
 a brilliant course of study at the Ecole 
 Poly technique, he left as head pupil and 
 chose the profession of mining. At the 
 moment that he was about to be appointed 
 engineer, the war broke out. He was at 
 that time twenty-two years of age. With- 
 out hesitation, he enrolled himself as a 
 Volunteer and departed in one of the 
 G 2
 
 84 The Ironmaster. 
 
 regiments of the Army of the Rhine. He 
 assisted at the sanguinary reverse of 
 Frceschwiller, and returned to the camp 
 at Chalons with the remnant of the first 
 Army corps. Then, participating in the 
 disastrous march upon Sedan, the evening 
 of the battle saw him a prisoner of war, 
 guarded by Prussian Uhlans. But he was 
 not of a character to allow himself to be 
 taken thus, and, stealing away in the 
 darkness, he profited by the obscurity of 
 the night to cross the German lines. 
 Entering Belgium, he only took time to 
 arrive at Lille, and there joined one of 
 the regiments then forming. 
 
 The war continued. Slowly and surely, 
 he had seen the invasion spread over the 
 country like a gangrene. Distinguished 
 by General Faidherbe, he made, with him, 
 the campaign of the North. Wounded by 
 a gun-shot at Saint-Quentin, he lay six
 
 The Ironmaster. 85 
 
 weeks in the hospital, between life and 
 death, and was awakened from his long 
 torpor to shudder on hearing that Paris 
 was in the hands of the Commune. 
 
 His convalescence spared him the 
 terrible obligation of firing upon his 
 fellow countrymen. And he returned to 
 his paternal home, still suffering from his 
 wounds, but wearing upon his breast the 
 ribbon of the Legion of Honour, which 
 had been brought to him while lying upon 
 his bed at the hospital, by his General 
 himself. 
 
 A keener pain than all that he had 
 undergone in so short a time, awaited 
 him at home. He found the household 
 in mourning. His mother had died in 
 his absence, leaving, deprived of her loving 
 care, the little Suzanne, aged only seven 
 years. Her father, M. Derblay, compelled 
 to quit Pont-Avesnes on account of the
 
 86 The Ironmaster. 
 
 immense business which claimed his 
 presence, had left the child under the 
 guardianship of servants. The arrival of 
 Philippe redoubled her grief and tears. 
 Little Suzanne clung to her brother with 
 the convulsive tenderness of a child 
 abandoned to the terrors of loneliness. 
 She clasped her arms around him, like a 
 poor little weak being begging for pro- 
 tection and help. Philippe, simple and 
 tender-hearted, adored this young sister 
 who so much needed affection and who 
 had lately found herself between a father 
 entirely absorbed by his affairs, and 
 servants faithful and devoted to her, but 
 incapable of those delicate tendernesses, 
 which are more necessary even than 
 material attentions to the lives of women 
 and of children. 
 
 He must, however, leave her and again 
 get into harness. This departure was a
 
 The Ironmaster. 87 
 
 heart-rending grief to Suzanne; and the 
 farewells that she said to Philippe renewed 
 the despair that had overwhelmed her at 
 the death of her mother. 
 
 But destiny decided that the separation 
 should not be for long. Six months later, 
 M. Derblay, struck down by excess of 
 work, in his turn died, leaving Philippe 
 and Suzanne alone in the world. 
 
 New duties were immediately imposed 
 on the young man. The liquidation of 
 the paternal enterprises was very compli- 
 cated and fertile in painful surprises. 
 M. Derblay, a man of remarkable intelli- 
 gence, had a grave defect : he undertook 
 more than he could possibly complete. 
 He wasted his energies in diiferent affairs, 
 without being able to succeed in carrying 
 them all out with equal success. The loss 
 of one absorbed the gain of the other. 
 He was incessantly invaded by a flood of
 
 88 The Ironmaster. 
 
 ever-increasing difficulties that he sur- 
 mounted momentarily by dint of skill and 
 vigour, but which would assuredly swallow 
 him sooner or later. He quitted the 
 world before the catastrophe, leaving a 
 most perplexing and entangled inherit- 
 ance. 
 
 Philippe had before him a splendid 
 career fully traced out. He might have 
 abandoned the enterprises of his father, 
 paid off his debts as far as possible, and 
 then have followed his own path. But 
 that would have been ruin. All the 
 paternal resources must pass away to save 
 the name, and his sister would remain 
 without a fortune. The young man did 
 not hesitate. He renounced his future, 
 sent in his resignation, and, loading his 
 shoulders with the heavy burden under 
 which his father had succumbed, became 
 an Ironmaster.
 
 The Ironmaster. 89 
 
 The task had been rude. There was a 
 little of everything in the inheritance of 
 M. Derblay : glass-works at Courtalin, a 
 foundry in the Nivernais, slate-quarries 
 in the Var, and the iron- works of Pont- 
 Avesnes. Philippe threw himself headlong 
 into the gulf, striving to collect the 
 scattered wrecks. He was an intrepid 
 worker, and, during six years, gave his 
 days and the greater part of his 
 nights to the labour so valiantly under- 
 taken. All the ready money that was 
 found, he employed in putting his affairs 
 into order. Then, in proportion as im- 
 pulse was at first restored to them and 
 prosperity afterwards, he yielded them 
 up, keeping only the iron-works, of whicli 
 he understood the great value. 
 
 In seven years, he had cleared the 
 paternal heritage, and now had no more 
 than the Foundry of the Nivernais, that
 
 90 The Ironmaster. 
 
 he worked equally with the iron- works of 
 Pont-Avesnes, making use of the iron 
 from the one to maintain the produce of 
 the other. Being now out of danger and 
 master of his affairs, he felt himself 
 capable of extending them considerably. 
 Adored in the country, he might become 
 a Candidate and be nominated a Deputy. 
 Who could know ? That elevation is of 
 a nature to please a woman. And then 
 industry also is a power in this money- 
 loving age. 
 
 Little by little hope again sprang up in 
 his heart, and continuing his walk, he 
 soon emerged from the woods. The 
 grassy meadows of the valley were spread 
 out upon the right. To the left, lay the 
 first beds of brown rock forming the 
 foundation of the hill. In these layers 
 the passages to the mine were bored. A 
 small railway, used for conveying the
 
 The Ironmaster. 91 
 
 ore in a direct line to the iron -works, 
 ascended by a gentle slope to the galleries. 
 
 Philippe, abruptly torn from his medi- 
 tations, resolved to cast a glance over the 
 workings, and, turning aside, took the 
 road to the mine. Upon a small round 
 hillock stood the hut of the foreman 
 charged with registering the loaded trucks. 
 Philippe was going thither. As he drew 
 near he thought he heard screams. At 
 the entrance of the galleries there was 
 an unusual agitation. The Ironmaster, 
 quickening his steps, in a few minutes 
 was on the spot, and able to ascertain the 
 cause of the unprecedented uproar. 
 
 A fall of earth, caused by infiltrations 
 of water, had just taken place on the 
 siding of the railway. Some trucks were 
 overturned, and, at the foot of the slope, 
 a heap of gravel and of fallen beams had 
 overwhelmed the conductor, a boy of
 
 92 The Ironmaster. 
 
 fifteen. A few workmen, and many 
 women, who had hurried up from the 
 village, formed an animated group, in the 
 midst of which wept and gesticulated a 
 distracted woman. 
 
 Philippe, thrusting aside the bystanders, 
 quickly entered the circle. 
 
 "What has happened?" cried he with 
 uneasiness. 
 
 "Ah! M. Derblay!" exclaimed the 
 woman, increasing her violence, and re- 
 doubling her lamentations at the sight of 
 the Ironmaster. "It is my poor lad, my 
 little Jacques, who has been buried under 
 that earth, with his truck, for three- 
 quarters of an hour ! " 
 
 " And what has been done to rescue 
 him ? " interrupted Philippe, turning 
 hastily to the miners. 
 
 " "We have cleared away as much as we 
 could, Patron, said an overlooker, point-
 
 The Ironmaster. 93 
 
 ing to a large excavation ; " but they 
 dare no longer touch the supports. A 
 hasty movement might bring them all 
 down, and the boy would surely be 
 crushed . . . ' 
 
 "It is ten minutes since he last spoke 
 to us," cried the mother in despair; " now 
 we hear him no more. He is certainly 
 suffocated. Ah ! My poor little lad 1 Are 
 they going to leave thee there ? " 
 
 And the wretched mother, bursting into 
 sobs, fell overwhelmed by grief upon the 
 grassy slope. 
 
 Quickly putting his gun into the hands 
 of the miners, M. Derblay, throwing him- 
 self flat upon the ground, his head over 
 the edge of the excavation, and under the 
 timbers, which were crossing each other, 
 listened anxiously. The silence in the 
 bed of gravel, where the boy was lying, 
 was as that of the grave.
 
 94 The Ironmaster. 
 
 " Jacques ! " called M. Derblay, whose 
 voice sounded hollow and lugubrious under 
 the mass of earth and wood ; " Jacques ! 
 dost thou hear me ?" 
 
 A groan answered him, and, at the end 
 of an instant, words feeble and broken 
 reached his ears : 
 
 " Ah, Patron ! ... It is you ! Ah ! my 
 God ! If you are there, then I am 
 saved ! " 
 
 This simple confidence deeply moved 
 Philippe, who resolved to attempt even 
 the impossible, so as to realize the hope 
 of the boy. 
 
 " Canst thou move ? " continued he. 
 
 " No," murmured he, breathless and 
 almost suffocated; "and I think my leg 
 is broken." 
 
 These words, heard in the midst of a 
 death-like silence, drew from the by- 
 standers a low groan.
 
 The Ironmaster. 95 
 
 " Have no fear, my boy ; we will get 
 thee out," said Philippe. And, standing 
 erect : 
 
 "Go, you others, bring crow-bars, and 
 raise this timber," said he to the work- 
 men, pointing to a long beam deeply em- 
 bedded in the earth, and forming, as it 
 were, a natural lever. 
 
 "It cannot be done, Patron," replied 
 the overlooker sorrowfully, shaking his 
 head. "All would fall. There is only 
 one way of proceeding : it would be for 
 three or four strong men to creep into 
 the hole that we have begun to dig, and 
 attempt to disengage the boy, as he is no 
 longer able to move. During this time, 
 we can encourage them by shouting ; but 
 it is a frightful risk; and there is every 
 fear that they will stay there." 
 
 " That is of no consequence ; we must 
 do it," said the Ironmaster, looking reso-
 
 96 The Ironmaster. 
 
 lately at his workmen. And, as they all 
 stood motionless and silent, the colour 
 rushed to his face. 
 
 " If one of you were down there, what 
 would he think of his companions who 
 left him to die ? But, as not one of you 
 dares to go, it is I who will do it." 
 
 And, bending his tall form, Philippe 
 glided under the rubbish. A cry of ad- 
 miration and of gratitude rose from the 
 crowd ; and, as if it only needed his ex- 
 ample to restore to these brave fellows 
 their courage, three men followed the 
 Ironmaster, whilst all the assistants, unit- 
 ing their strength, supported on their 
 backs the beams, raising them by in- 
 credible efforts. 
 
 There was again silence. Only the sobs 
 of the grief-stricken mother, and the la- 
 boured respiration of the rescuers, crushed 
 under the weight of earth, could be heard.
 
 The Ironmaster. 97 
 
 A few minutes, long as centuries, passed, 
 during which the lives of five men were 
 at stake ; then there was a shout of joy. 
 Soiled by the earth, with hands and shoul- 
 ders wounded by their exertions, the four 
 men emerged from the hole, Philippe, the 
 last, bearing in his arms the fainting 
 boy. 
 
 There was a horrible cracking, and the 
 supports, relinquished by the workmen, 
 again fell into the cavity, now empty of 
 its prisoner. The mother, half wild, was 
 divided between anxiety for her child and 
 gratitude to the Ironmaster. The crowd, 
 agitated, silent, respectfully surrounded 
 the rescuer and the rescued. 
 
 " Now carry this boy to his home," said 
 M. Derblay gaily ; " and let one of you 
 summon the doctor." 
 
 Then, brushing the earth from his 
 clothes, and taking his gun, Philippe 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 The Ironmaster. 
 
 again started in the direction of Pont- 
 Avesnes. 
 
 The news of the rescue followed closely 
 the report of the accident ; and, on arriving 
 at the iron gate of the Chateau, Philippe 
 saw his sister, escorted by Bachelin, 
 advancing towards him. Suzanne, per- 
 ceiving her brother, hastened to meet 
 him. She was wearing a light gown, and 
 balanced on her shoulder a large, red 
 sun-shade, which, on that bright October 
 day, usefully shaded her charming face. 
 Mademoiselle Derblay was seventeen years 
 old ; her sweet and happy face had a 
 charming expression of trust and sincerity. 
 Her brown eyes laughed yet more than 
 her lips. Not regularly beautiful, she had 
 a tender and innocent grace, that made 
 her irresistibly attractive. In her im- 
 patience, she began to run towards M. 
 Derblay, dropping her sun -shade, and
 
 The Ironmaster. 99 
 
 extending her arms, ready to throw her- 
 self upon his neck. 
 
 " Do not touch me ! " cried Philippe, 
 recoiling from the young girl ; "I am 
 covered with mud ; I shall spoil thy 
 gown ! " 
 
 " Of what importance is that ! " cried 
 Suzanne in a transport of joy. " Oh ! 
 I will embrace thee ! Thou hast saved 
 
 the boy ! Oh ! my Philippe, it is always 
 
 
 thee that they seek when there is any 
 
 thing grand or good to be done ! " 
 
 And taking between her hands the 
 brown head of her brother she kissed it 
 tenderly. Bachelin, distanced in the race 
 by Suzanne, arrived out of breath. 
 
 "Well ! my dear friend," exclaimed the 
 Notary, " again a good action . . . ' 
 
 "Do not speak of it, I pray you," 
 interrupted Philippe smiling, " it is really 
 not worth the trouble. The gravest part 
 n 2
 
 100 The Ironmaster. 
 
 of the affair is that I fear the boy is 
 injured. Thou wilt do well to go as far 
 as his house with thy medicaments, 
 Suzanne. And if there should be any 
 expenses, thou wilt provide for them." 
 
 " I will go, my brother," said the young 
 girl. " I shall take Brigitte with me, 
 shall not I?" 
 
 "Without doubt. And we, my dear 
 Maitre, will walk up to the house," added 
 Philippe, turning to Bachelin. "I am 
 looking like a vagabond, and must go and 
 change." 
 
 Suzanne went in the direction of the 
 offices of the Chateau, Philippe and the 
 Notary crossed the vast square court 
 planted with old lime-trees, in the centre 
 of which a large rectangular pond, sur- 
 rounded by beds of flowers, cast up into the 
 air a jet of water, falling in cascades of fine 
 spray, chased by the wind and rainbowed
 
 The Ironmaster. 101 
 
 by the sun. This basin is the last vestige 
 of the immense body of water that at an 
 earlier period formed a girdle about the 
 Chateau. The Avesnes had been diverted 
 from its course and forced into the moats by 
 the ancient Lords of Pont- Avesnes. Under 
 Louis XIII., a barrier was constructed to 
 prevent the entrance of the water, and 
 the moats were drained. The mud lying 
 at the bottom, mixed with vegetable 
 mould conveyed thither with much trouble 
 and expense, made a soil marvellously 
 fertile, in which grew the fruit-trees that 
 to this day are the wonder of Pont- 
 Avesnes. There are some pear and peach- 
 trees nearly two hundred years old, and 
 that produce rare and splendid fruit, 
 unique in our country. These large 
 moats, whose walls serve as espaliers, are 
 like forcing-pits, into which the sun pours 
 down his burning rays. The heat there
 
 102 The Ironmaster. 
 
 is as great as in a hot-house. And the 
 bitter winds of Winter cannot penetrate 
 to blast and wither the tender shoots and 
 early blossoms. 
 
 The Chateau is built upon a foundation 
 of brown sandstone, which raises it and 
 gives it elegance. But it is black and 
 gloomy. Its tall roofs of slate are depicted 
 darkly against the sky. Philippe having 
 decided to confine himself to one wing of 
 the vast and cold dwelling, the remaining 
 apartments are closed. And without the 
 care of Brigitte, the foster-sister of 
 Suzanne, who, in spite of her youth, 
 thanks to a fortunate precocity, fulfils 
 with authority the duties of housekeeper, 
 the Chateau would be entirely neglected. 
 
 But the active Jurassienne, animating 
 by her zeal the three domestics under her 
 orders, makes, twice a month, a complete 
 inspection, keeping in good order the
 
 The Ironmaster. 103 
 
 beautiful furniture, of the time of 
 Louis XI V., which ornaments the recep- 
 tion-rooms. 
 
 When Brigitte opens the shutters of 
 the grand salon and the light floods into 
 the lofty and spacious room, it is as if the 
 curtain of a theatre had been raised, 
 showing decorations marvellous in their 
 richness. The walls are hung with the 
 most beautiful tapestry of the Gobelins, 
 unfolding the entire history of Alexander. 
 The large chairs in all the pomp of their 
 backs of Genoa velvet between the gilded 
 wood of their solemn arms. The grand 
 Venetian mirrors reflecting, for a few 
 minutes, in their faceted panels, the 
 flowers of the garden, the capricious jet 
 of water, and a small corner of the sky. 
 Brigitte passes in with an active step, 
 carrying a feather brush and a broom. 
 Then, the sweeping and dusting at an
 
 104 The Ironmaster. 
 
 end, the shutters are re-closed and the 
 artistic riches of the Chateau fall again 
 into obscurity. 
 
 In the inhabited wing, Philippe had 
 reserved for himself on the ground floor a 
 large study surrounded by bookcases, the 
 elevated shelves of which could only be 
 reached by the aid of a ladder on wheels. 
 In the centre, a writing-table, with papers 
 heaped upon it in a disorder more apparent 
 than real. A very beautiful inkstand in 
 bronze, representing two chubby-cheeked 
 loves fighting. The conqueror is laugh- 
 ingly pressing into the mouth of the 
 conquered a bunch of grapes. Upon the 
 chimney-piece is a handsome clock in the 
 first style of Boule, of ebony inlaid and 
 incrusted with brass. Next the study, 
 the dining-room, severely fitted up with 
 old furniture in carved pear-tree. Upon 
 the sideboard, rich and solid silver, never
 
 The Ironmaster. 105 
 
 used. On the other side, a small salon, 
 furnished in the most modern and the 
 most Bourgeoise fashion. Hangings of 
 blue poplin, and the furniture covered with 
 the same stuff; a clock and fire-dogs of 
 rough workmanship ; a small table in 
 marquetry, upon which some embroidery- 
 work seems to announce the return of 
 Suzanne. In two large panels, the 
 portraits of M. and Madame Derblay are 
 suspended, executed with more conscien- 
 tiousness than talent, by a mediocre pupil 
 of Flandrin. 
 
 On the first story, two large chambers, 
 communicating by their dressing-rooms, 
 the one occupied by Philippe, the other by 
 Suzanne. The former, grave and sombre, 
 hung with dark brown stamped velvet, 
 and furnished in black wood, having for 
 its sole ornament a trophy of modern 
 arms, in the midst of which one would
 
 106 The Ironmaster. 
 
 remark a can belonging to the Infantry, 
 pierced by three balls, a souvenir of Pont- 
 Noyelles. The other room, virginal and 
 fresh, like her who owns it. White 
 muslin over blue, tied by rose-coloured 
 knots. Furniture in white lacquer, 
 relieved by stripes of blue ; and all the 
 little trifles that adorn so prettily the 
 room of a young girl. From her window 
 Suzanne could see the dark alleys of the 
 park losing themselves in the distant 
 verdure. She might muse there at her 
 ease, if musing could sadden for a single 
 instant the happy gaiety of her careless 
 youth. 
 
 It was to his dressing-room that 
 Philippe, after seeing his sister dis- 
 appear, conducted Bachelin. Suspecting 
 that the Notary had come from Beaulieu, 
 like all lovers, he was impatient to know 
 the details, important or trivial, that his
 
 The Ironmaster. 107 
 
 old friend never failed to bring him after 
 each of his interviews with the noble 
 inhabitants of the Chateau. But this day 
 Bachelin did not appear in a humour for 
 talking ; and, seated in an arm-chair, he 
 absently regarded the Ironmaster, who 
 had planted himself before him like a note 
 of interrogation. Philippe could no longer 
 restrain himself, and frankly approaching 
 the subject : 
 
 " Have you imparted to Madame de 
 Beaulieu my proposition respecting an 
 arrangement," said he with affected 
 calmness. 
 
 "Without doubt." 
 
 "Well, did she find it sufficient and 
 acceptable ? " 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 " And have you also offered my 
 shooting ? " 
 
 " Why should I ? " rejoined the Notary
 
 108 The Ironmaster. 
 
 tranquilly, casting a mocking glance at 
 the Ironmaster. 
 
 " What do you mean ? Why should 
 you ? " cried the latter astonished. 
 
 "Dame!' replied Bachelin, "I did 
 not make that offer, as you made 
 it yourself this morning to the Mar- 
 quis, and in the most romantic 
 fashion." 
 
 Philippe reddened a little, and looked 
 down embarrassed. 
 
 " Ah ! M. de Beaulieu has spoken to 
 you of our meeting ? " said he. " But he 
 did not know with whom he was con- 
 versing." 
 
 " I told him. Was it also necessary to 
 tell him that you so well filled his game- 
 bag through love for his sister ? " 
 
 " My friend ! " 
 
 "Ah! Ah! Are you thinking of 
 drawing back ? " asked Bachelin gaily.
 
 The Ironmaster. 109 
 
 " Do you no longer love Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu ? " 
 
 " More than ever ! for it is a great 
 folly," replied Philippe. " How can I, a 
 man of work, who has lived for so long a 
 time out of the world, how can I think of 
 that young girl, so beautiful, so proud, and, 
 through that, perhaps, even more seduc- 
 tive ? I saw her, grave, thoughtful, a little 
 uneasy, without doubt, at knowing her lover 
 to be far from her. And, in spite of myself, 
 without thinking of it, I grew to love her. 
 I forgot the distance which separates her 
 from me, I did not see the difference in 
 our origin. The voice of reason, the 
 counsels of experience, I listened to 
 nothing but the love which was irresistibly 
 singing in my heart. Ah ! my old friend, 
 I am ashamed of myself, but I cannot 
 resist this mad passion which makes me 
 feel an unknown joy, an exquisite intoxi-
 
 110 The Ironmaster. 
 
 cation . . . which gives me everything, in 
 fact, save hope ! For there my blindness 
 stops ; I do not hope, I give you my 
 word." 
 
 " You do not hope, that is understood," 
 said Bachelin lightly ; " but, in fine, you 
 love. Here is so much gained. I was 
 then right, is it not true, in speaking as 
 I did to the Marquise ? " 
 
 " In speaking ? " stammered Philippe, 
 very troubled ..." How ! ... in 
 speaking ? But what did you say ? " 
 
 " Well ! That which you think, that 
 which you have just expressed to me, in 
 language as impassioned as persuasive." 
 
 The Ironmaster recoiled a step, his eyes 
 sank under their brows, and became black. 
 Biting his lip, and in a voice that he 
 forced himself to render calm : 
 
 " But did I ask you," said he, " to make 
 such confidences to Madame de Beaulieu?"
 
 The Ironmaster. Ill 
 
 " No, it is true, you did not ask me to 
 do it," replied Bachelin with composure. 
 " But, ma foi, I found the occasion 
 good, and I did not hesitate . . . Do you 
 see ! There is nothing like having a clear 
 position. You would still have played the 
 fool for many weeks, perhaps months ; 
 you would have plunged deeper than 
 before into this love adventure. It was 
 better to tell all at a good time, risking a 
 repulse with hauteur. These are the 
 reasons that determined me. Do they 
 not seem to you to be of weight ? " 
 
 Philippe kept silence, as if he had 
 hardly heard Bachelin. His ideas whirled 
 confusedly in his brain, he had lost all 
 sense of his own identity. It seemed to 
 him that he had been carried by a rapid 
 movement through boundless space. The 
 air whistled in his ears, and his eyes could 
 not fix themselves. He saw as through a
 
 112 The Ironmaster. 
 
 fog. And, in his aching brain, a per- 
 sistent voice, which fatigued it horribly, 
 repeated, like a vague revelation of the 
 future : " Claire ! If she is going to be 
 thine ! " 
 
 The voice of Bachelin aroused him 
 from his torpor. 
 
 " "Well ! why do you regard me thus 
 with bewildered eyes ? " said the Notary. 
 " You look like a Seer ! " 
 
 Philippe passed his hand over his fore- 
 head as if to efface a painful impression, 
 then, smiling at his friend : 
 
 "Pardon me. I was troubled at the 
 thought that you had played such a high 
 game without first warning me. I did not 
 think you in the mood to do it. Otherwise 
 I should have begged you to keep silence. 
 Since the day when I was weak enough 
 to own to you my love for Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu, I have never ceased to regret
 
 The Ironmaster. 113 
 
 having so indiscreetly spoken. But it 
 seems that when one loves the heart is 
 too contracted to keep within itself all 
 the tenderness that it contains, and, in 
 spite of oneself, more escapes than is 
 prudent. Avowals mount to the lips, 
 and it is impossible to stop them. Hardly 
 had I spoken to you when the illusion was 
 dissipated, and the pitiless truth appeared 
 to me. Mademoiselle de Beaulieu has 
 never done me the honour to perceive that 
 I exist. She is rich, affianced to her 
 cousin, she will be a Duchess. And I 
 must be a veritable madman to love her. 
 Also I deserve a chastisement, and I am 
 ready to submit to it. Tell me all, begin, 
 do not break it to me." 
 
 " Well ! I will tell you at first that 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu is no longer 
 rich, that she will probably never become 
 a Duchess, and that an honourable man, 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 The Ironmaster. 
 
 such as yourself, will never have a 
 better chance of being accepted by her 
 than at this moment." 
 
 At these words, Philippe became so pale 
 that he seemed about to swoon. He gave 
 an exclamation of joy. And, his limbs 
 yielding through emotion, the young man 
 fell back into a chair. 
 
 " Oh ! take care ! Do not give me 
 hope. It would be too hard to renounce 
 it later ! " 
 
 " Well, yes ; I can give you hope," con- 
 tinued Bachelin, " and in doing so I am 
 betraying for your sake all the secrets of 
 the de Beaulieu family. But you have 
 so much interest in being discreet that it 
 is not you who will repeat that which I 
 am about to tell you." 
 
 And as Philippe seized his hands, 
 fastening upon the face of the Notary, 
 his eyes burning with anxiety :
 
 The Ironmaster. 115 
 
 "Mademoiselle de Beaulieu is ruined 
 through the loss of the law - suit in 
 England," said Bachelin, " and she is 
 ignorant of it. The Due de Bligny has 
 been in Paris six weeks forgetting her, 
 and she does not suspect it. The day 
 when Mademoiselle Claire shall learn that 
 she is forsaken, there will arise in her 
 heart a terrible tempest. And those who 
 may be within reach will be able to collect 
 much wreckage ! " 
 
 " Ruined and forsaken! " cried Philippe, 
 " That charming young girl, that adorable 
 woman ! "What need has she of fortune ? 
 The only treasure that one would ask of 
 her, is herself! " 
 
 " Yes, certainly ! And it is exactly 
 under that aspect of pure disinterestedness 
 that I have shown you." 
 
 " Oh ! tell it again ! " cried Philippe 
 with fire, "tell it to Madame de 
 i 2
 
 116 The Ironmaster. 
 
 Beaulieu and to herself, I implore 
 you ! " 
 
 Then, pausing as if saddened by a de- 
 spairing thought : 
 
 " But no, " continued he, " tell her 
 nothing. She is proud and haughty. 
 The idea that she might owe some obliga- 
 tion to the man who will be her husband 
 would keep her from me and determine 
 her to repulse me. Inform the Marquise, 
 make her understand my scruples, and 
 above all place me in treaty with her. 
 Oh ! I should receive the hand of Made- 
 moiselle de Beaulieu on my knees. But 
 I wish that she may think herself still 
 rich, so that she might accept or refuse 
 me freely. And should I, in marrying 
 her, endow her with all that I possess, she 
 would still be doing me a favour ! " 
 
 " There ! there ! " exclaimed Bachelin, 
 interrupting Philippe by an affectionate
 
 The Ironmaster. 117 
 
 gesture. " You travel too fast ! How 
 beautiful are youth and passion ! But you 
 must go by a more moderate train. The 
 question at this moment is only that of 
 presenting yourself at the Chateau. For 
 want of other satisfaction, you will have 
 that of contemplating the object of your 
 desires, as they said in the last century. 
 Be grave and calm. Conduct yourself 
 with the discretion that your situation 
 demands, and take with you Made- 
 moiselle Suzanne. She will be of use as a 
 screen, they will occupy themselves with 
 her, and, during that time, you will become 
 composed." 
 
 " And when must we go to Beaulieu ? " 
 asked Philippe visibly troubled. 
 
 " Ah ! that is it ! You are already afraid 
 before you have even taken a step ! Well ! 
 Go to-morrow. A good night's rest will 
 restore your self-command ; you will
 
 118 The Ironmaster. 
 
 make the most of your opportunities 
 and of your advantages." 
 
 And, rising slowly, the Notary took 
 his portfolio, placed it under his arm 
 and moved towards the door. Then, 
 stopping in the centre of the dressing- 
 room : 
 
 " Do you still regret that I spoke to 
 Madame de Beaulieu without your sanc- 
 tion ? " asked he, regarding the Iron- 
 master with a keen and mocking glance. 
 "It is true that, in your agitation, you 
 have not asked for her reply ? " 
 
 " It is true ! " cried Philippe. 
 
 And by a sudden change, his mood, 
 from joyous, became grave. 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 " All that she ought to say in a similar 
 case, namely, that she had nothing to 
 say, and would not constrain Mademoiselle 
 Claire. In fact, the usual things. But,
 
 The Ironmaster. 119 
 
 believe me, the strength of the position 
 that you have to carry is not on the 
 side of the mother, but on that of the 
 daughter. Therefore take courage. And 
 now I must go away to dinner." 
 
 And, affectionately shaking the hand 
 of the Ironmaster, Bachelin left the 
 room. 
 
 Philippe, when alone, fell into deep 
 thought. He coolly looked his situation 
 in the face, and was able to own to him- 
 self that it was not bad. Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu, unworthily betrayed by her 
 lover, would remain in the depths of the 
 Jura for at least a few months, to allow 
 time to pass over her humiliating disaster. 
 There, he could see her, and, by surround- 
 ing her with discreet attentions, might, 
 perhaps, arrive at not being displeasing 
 to her. Suzanne would surely be a useful 
 auxiliary. Instead of sending her back to
 
 120 The Ironmaster. 
 
 the convent at BesanQon when the holidays 
 were ended, he would keep her at home. 
 She might become the companion of Claire, 
 and win her love by her artless grace and 
 tenderness. By degrees, she would instil 
 the thought of her brother into the heart 
 of Mademoiselle de Beaulieu. 
 
 And, his dream taking the appearance 
 of reality, Philippe pictured to himself, 
 walking slowly, under the lofty trees of 
 Pont-Avesnes, the two young girls, side 
 by side, with arms linked like sisters, the 
 one tall and proud, the other delicate and 
 gentle. He gazed at them ; he seemed 
 surrounded by the perfume emanating 
 from them. That delicious odour intoxi- 
 cated him, and he was about to touch 
 them, when suddenly a fresh mouth, 
 pressing a kiss upon his forehead, aroused 
 him from his dream ; and the dear voice 
 of Suzanne murmured in his ear :
 
 The Ironmaster. 121 
 
 " Of whom art thou thinking, Philippe ?" 
 
 As the Ironmaster kept his seat, gazing 
 at her with a vague smile, without an- 
 swering : 
 
 " Thou wilt not tell it? Must I, then, 
 speak ? Well, let us wager that thou art 
 thinking of a beautiful fair girl ! " 
 
 Philippe rose abruptly, and, seizing the 
 hand of his sister : 
 
 " Suzanne ! " cried he. 
 
 But, under the mischievous glance of 
 the young girl, he lost countenance, and 
 could not continue. He stood stupefied, 
 asking himself by what strange penetra- 
 tion that child had known how to divine 
 so readily that which was passing within 
 him. 
 
 " There, thou art quite troubled," con- 
 tinued Suzanne with tenderness. " Thou 
 didst believe, then, that thy secret was 
 well hidden? But for the last month
 
 122 The Ironmaster. 
 
 thou hast not been the same, and it did 
 not require much ingenuity to perceive 
 that thy heart was no longer mine alone. 
 Oh ! I am not jealous ! No ; I love thee 
 too well for jealousy. And when I see 
 thee pensive and absorbed, if I am dis- 
 quieted, it is not because I fear that thou 
 wilt take from me a part of thy affection, 
 to give it to another, but that I am afraid 
 thou inayst have chagrin. I owe thee so 
 much, my Philippe ! It is thou who hast 
 sheltered me, cherished me, brought me 
 up, when I was alone, without father or 
 mother. And it seems to me that I am 
 not only thy sister, but thy daughter, the 
 child of thy cares and of thy troubles. 
 Go, love and be loved ! Thou wilt only 
 see me rejoice ; for I do not know of 
 happiness complete enough on this earth 
 to recompense a being so perfect as thou 
 art."
 
 The Ironmaster. 123 
 
 Tears sprang into the eyes of the 
 Ironmaster, and ran silently down his 
 face. The loving words of his sister 
 had relaxed his over-excited nerves. 
 He felt greatly moved, and, leaning 
 against the high chimney-piece, stood, 
 regarding Suzanne, who smiled at 
 him. 
 
 "Now thou art weeping!' 3 said she. 
 " Tell me, is it, then, sad to love ? " 
 
 " Never speak more of these follies ! " 
 interrupted Philippe, in an altered 
 tone. 
 
 " Follies ! And why not ? What 
 woman, being acquainted with thee, would 
 not desire to please thee ? " 
 
 Then, placing herself before him, her 
 expression daring, and her gesture reso- 
 lute: "Listen; I will say, if it be neces- 
 sary, to her whom thou lovest : ' Mademoi- 
 selle, you are wrong in not adoring my
 
 124 The Ironmaster. 
 
 brother; for there is not a man in this 
 world to whom he is not absolutely su- 
 perior. I can affirm it to you, for I have 
 known him well, and for a long time.' I 
 shall be so eloquent that she will herself 
 come before thee, will extend to thee her 
 hand with a beautiful curtsey, and will say 
 to thee : ' Monsieur, you have for a sister 
 a little person who is so extraordinary 
 that I can no longer deny your merit. 
 "Will ypu do me the favour to be my 
 husband ? ' And thou, thou wilt bow 
 with grace, answering, with a reflective 
 air : * Mon 'Dieu ! Mademoiselle, if it 
 will, then, be agreeable to you ! ' As to 
 myself, I shall bless you in a protecting 
 and pompous manner ; and you will 
 be very happy. Ah ! thou seest ? Thou 
 art laughing, thou art consoled ! " 
 
 And Suzanne, tenderly taking the arm 
 of her brother, whose emotion had not
 
 The Ironmaster. 125 
 
 been able to withstand so much bright 
 and playful gaiety, drew him from the 
 house, saying : 
 
 " Come, take a turn in the garden whilst 
 awaiting thy marriage ! "
 
 126 The Ironmaster. 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 N leaving the train which had brought 
 him from St. Petersburg to Paris six 
 weeks previously, the Due de Bligny, 
 fatigued by the journey, accomplished 
 as rapidly as possible, in a sleeping car, 
 in which he had been much shaken, 
 had himself driven to his club. 
 
 Not having an apartment prepared, and 
 the hotel of his aunt being closed, Gaston 
 found it very convenient to instal himself 
 in one of the rooms that the large clubs 
 always hold at the disposition of their 
 members. He thought of remaining eight 
 days or more in Paris, time enough to 
 finish his affairs at the Ministry, and to 
 make a few purchases in the shops ; then 
 of starting for Beaulieu.
 
 The Ironmaster. 127 
 
 For nearly a year he had not been in 
 France. He had lived in the great Rus- 
 sian world, that artificial Parisian life, 
 which is the best society to a stranger, 
 but which resembles the mundane high 
 life of Paris as much as a pebble from 
 the Rhine resembles a diamond from 
 Wisapoor. 
 
 The refined corruption of the Sclavs 
 had, however, taken possession of him ; 
 and he found great sweetness in that 
 mixed existence of Asiatic softness and 
 of European activity. The well-developed 
 Russian ladies captivated him by their 
 undulating grace and the enigmatic charm 
 of their beauty. He wished to become 
 acquainted with the secret of these smil- 
 ing, Sphinx-like women, with eyes full of 
 trouble, and with talons full of menace. 
 A handsome fellow, well brought up, and 
 bearing a great name, he was much
 
 128 The Ironmaster. 
 
 sought ; and by degrees the image of his 
 betrothed, hitherto so faithfully graven 
 on his heart, was effaced, like those beau- 
 tiful pastels of Latour, whose colours pale 
 with time. 
 
 Far from Claire, he at first considered 
 himself an exile, and wished to live se- 
 verely. But how can a man cloister him- 
 self when he is the youngest attache at 
 a French Embassy, and when from all 
 sides he sees himself the object of gracious 
 solicitations ? At the end of a retreat of 
 eight days, strictly observed, Gaston could 
 not excuse himself from appearing at one 
 of the receptions of his chief. Therefore, 
 attiring himself in his harnais de fete, he 
 made his first entrance into the best 
 society of St. Petersburg. 
 
 From that evening, the young Duke 
 was the favourite of the Russian aristo- 
 cracy. His grandfather, emigrating with
 
 The Ironmaster. 129 
 
 the Comte d'Artois, in the first days of 
 the Revolution, had lived in intimacy with 
 the families of Nesselrode, Pahlen, and 
 Gortchakoff. Bligny was welcomed with 
 the most flattering distinction by the great 
 personages of the Court, and presented to 
 the Czar, who treated the young attache 
 with marked favour. From day to day, 
 the situation of this diplomatist, whose 
 age was only twenty-five years, became 
 more important, and his superiors, clever 
 enough not to take umbrage at his suc- 
 cess, dreamed of profiting by the influence 
 that their subordinate had immediately 
 conquered. 
 
 But if Gaston was an elegant cavalier 
 and an accomplished man of the world, 
 he was a very mediocre politician. Throw- 
 ing himself into pleasure, and neglecting 
 diplomacy, it was promptly understood 
 that, if the society of St. Petersburg had 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 The Ironmaster. 
 
 gained a brilliant guest, France had not 
 
 acquired a useful servant. 
 1 Fluttering, humming, flying from flower 
 'to flower, the Due de Bligny was not the 
 
 industrious bee which produces good 
 
 honey ; he exhibited himself as a plun- 
 dering and showy wasp, his golden corselet 
 glittering in the sun. In a few weeks, he 
 
 was known to be living a joyous and fast 
 -life. 'His well-tempered nerves defied the 
 
 most crushing fatigue. He could hold his 
 own at supper against renowned drinkers ; 
 
 and all the world knows how deeply the 
 , 'Russians imbibe. He played at the Club 
 
 of the Noblesse a game of baccarat since 
 become legendary, in the course of which 
 ! his adversaries and himself, during three 
 days and three nights, only rose from the 
 table to recruit their exhausted strength. 
 He vanquished the heavy punters, not by 
 his persistent luck, but by sleep, which
 
 The Ironmaster. 131 
 
 stretched them all upon the carpet. He 
 was the lover of the exquisite Lucie 
 Tellier, the French star at the Theatre 
 Michel, and protected her, notwithstand- 
 ing the attempts at bribery of the most 
 ostentatious Boyards. Then, one fine day, 
 finding her wearisome, probably because 
 she was faithful, he surrendered her to 
 Muscovite gallantry. 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu had divined cor- 
 rectly. The Duke was the hero of the 
 winter season, and there were no good 
 ftHes without him. It was permitted to 
 him to aspire to the hands of some of the 
 richest heiresses of St. Petersburg; but 
 he disdained all the overtures that were 
 made to him, and, in consequence, was 
 only the more ardently sought. 
 
 Bligny had used-up blood in his veins. 
 At the end of six months, the existence 
 that he was leading wearied him prodi- 
 K 2
 
 132 The Ironmaster. 
 
 giously; and, as an antidote to his spleen, 
 he found no other diversion than play. 
 From the first time of cutting the cards, 
 he felt himself a gambler to the bottom 
 of his soul. He played, with an insolent 
 good fortune, seeming to have entered 
 that world as a conqueror. And every 
 morning, laden by the spoils of his 
 adversaries, he returned home, his fore- 
 head bound as with a ring of iron, his 
 face livid, and with a taste of dust upon 
 his lips. He went to bed at break of 
 day, that short, dark day of the Russian 
 Winter, resembling our twilight, and 
 slept, worn out, till in the afternoon, 
 towards four o'clock, he rose, beginning 
 his day at the hour when the gas was 
 lighted in the streets. He had arranged 
 his life in opposition to the rest of the 
 world. He lived contrariwise ... He 
 was a nidit moth, and during two years
 
 The Ironmaster. 133 
 
 lie scarcely saw the sun. His face, refined 
 and agreeable when he left his family, was 
 now hard and lined. His features, grown 
 coarse, were still very handsome ; but 
 the charm of youth, that flower of fresh 
 and unworn faces, had disappeared. His 
 expression was that of a man who lives 
 fast. His hair, brown, slightly waving, 
 and cut short on the forehead, was be- 
 coming thin at the temples. His eyes, 
 of an undecided blue, were hollow and 
 deep set. The wild existence that he was 
 leading left upon him its traces, more 
 visible from day to day. 
 
 His aunt would have had difficulty in 
 recognising him. He was no longer the 
 timid young man, with a gentle voice, who 
 passed his evenings so peacefully between 
 the Marquise and Claire in the large, quiet 
 salon of the old h6tel. Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu, resolute and decided, a little
 
 134 The Ironmaster. 
 
 masculine in character, then called him, 
 laughingly, " Mademoiselle Gaston." He 
 had no more that winning softness that 
 caused him to resemble a girl, but was a 
 man, and one of the most dangerous. He 
 had discovered in himself mines of native 
 scepticism, believing absolutely in nothing, 
 and placing his own good pleasure above 
 all. The paternal blood, calmed in him 
 by the peaceful sweetness of a retired life, 
 had begun to boil ; and the de Bligny 
 race, ardent and passionate, which, from 
 the time of Henri III., had supplied to 
 the Court of France its most voluptuous 
 Mignons, its most audacious Adventurers, 
 its most gallant Courtiers, and its most 
 profligate Roues, had in him a representa- 
 tive who did honour to his ancestors. 
 
 There was the strength of a giant in 
 the fragile body of the young man. Like 
 those Seigneurs of former times, full of
 
 The Ironmaster. 135' 
 
 effeminacy and of languor, who used cos- ; 
 metics for the face and hands, disturbed 
 their pages rather than stoop to pick up 
 their cup and ball, caused themselves to 
 be carried in a litter to avoid the fatigue 
 of horse exercise, yet who, on the day of 
 battle, encased in a hundred pounds of 
 iron, charged like demons into the thickest 
 of the fight, accomplishing extraordinary 
 feats of heroism. Gaston would certainly 
 not have walked a mile to serve any useful 
 purpose, but he was a man who would 
 shoot for a whole day, who would fence, 
 foil in hand, during many hours, so as to 
 fatigue the most untiring. 
 
 It was at play that he was, indeed, all- 
 jpowerful. He seemed to force fortune 
 by his will, winning with unheard-of per- 
 sistency. The worst hands became good 
 when he took them. The bank, faltering 
 when attacked by him, showed itself im-
 
 136 The Ironmaster. 
 
 pregnable when lie held the cards. During 
 two years, fortune treated him as a veri- 
 table enfant gate. He was called the 
 " lucky Gaston." If his assured fair play 
 had not protected him against evil 
 thoughts, he might almost have been 
 suspected. 
 
 The remnant of his patrimony, aug- 
 mented by the resources furnished by 
 play, enabled him to live on a grand 
 footing. He had magnificent horses, 
 superb apartments, all the luxurious 
 comfort indispensable to a man of 
 fashion. 
 
 When he entered the Club of the 
 Noblesse, the game took another aspect. 
 It was felt directly that the engagement 
 would be serious, and that heavy sums 
 were about to fall upon the table. He 
 did not exclusively keep to baccarat and 
 to lansquenet, but willingly took a hand
 
 The Ironmaster. 137 
 
 at piquet, playing habitually at a louis 
 a point, with a hundred on the game. 
 It was to him that old Narishkine, more 
 than forty times a millionaire, made this 
 famous reply. When Gaston had won 
 from him three thousand louis, he rose 
 from the table, saying : "I prefer to go 
 away ; if I continue, I shall end by losing 
 some money ! " 
 
 After the representation at the opera, 
 at the Theatre Franais, or on leaving a 
 house where he had passed the evening, 
 de Bligny mounted into a sledge, and 
 had himself driven the length of the Per- 
 spective. Warmly enveloped in his furs, 
 he loved to feel the icy wind of the 
 night pass over his face. In this 
 way he strengthened his nerves for 
 the gaming-table. Towards two o'clock 
 in the morning, arriving quite fresh 
 and ready for play, he found his
 
 138 The Ironmaster. 
 
 adversaries excited, and his calculated 
 audacity was then equal to the most 
 intrepid. 
 
 Seated at the table, under the fiery 
 brilliancy of the lustres, he was impas- 
 sible. Neither gain, nor loss, could tri- 
 umph over his phlegm. No player ever 
 saw a more imperturbable demeanour. 
 And when around him the most puerile 
 superstitions were shown, he was grave 
 and contemptuous. Relying only upon 
 himself, a fetich made him shrug his 
 shoulders. 
 
 He went much into society, and was 
 very successful with the opposite sex, 
 although not of a passionate constitution, 
 being too great an egotist to love. The 
 truth is that he was of a yielding disposi- 
 tion, and did not deprive of hope the 
 beauties who made advances to him. He 
 detested tears, and had no wish to cause
 
 The Ironmaster. 139 
 
 chagrin, from the dread of lamentations 
 and reproaches. 
 
 Once only, he thought himself seriously 
 in love, but the sequel will show that he 
 was deceived. One of the greatest ladies 
 of the Russian aristocracy, the Countess 
 Woreseff, celebrated for her golden hair 
 and her emeralds, was captivated by him. 
 Closely watched by her husband, who was 
 very jealous, the beautiful Countess could 
 not manage to see Gas ton, nor even 
 to write to him. Much charmed with 
 her, the Duke almost lost sight of cards. 
 He followed Madame Woreseff in society, 
 waltzing with her under the fiery eyes 
 of the Count, but was not able to find 
 an expedient in order to meet her in 
 secret. 
 
 To mislead the husband, Gaston feigned 
 a departure for Moscow. He disappeared 
 for two days, and returned privately to
 
 140 Tlie Ironmaster. 
 
 his apartments. The Count, reassured, 
 abated his vigilance, and the beautiful 
 Russian was able to pay the Duke three 
 visits. The Countess, stepping from her 
 carnage before the portal of Saint- Alexis, 
 entered the church; then, leaving by one 
 of the aisles, went with a light step to her 
 rendez-vous. At the third interview, an 
 alarm was given by the footman, who, 
 having craftily followed the Countess, ran 
 to warn the Count. 
 
 The latter, furious, hastened to ' the 
 residence of Bligny, but was obliged to 
 parley with the valet, a Parisian, artful as 
 Mascarille. During this time, the charming 
 Countess, in a state of frenzy, sought with 
 Gaston an outlet. It was on this occasion 
 that the nervous vigour of the indolent 
 young man superbly revealed itself. 
 
 The bathroom of his hotel looked into 
 the court of a neighbouring house. But
 
 The Ironmaster. 141 
 
 the window was protected by bars of iron. 
 In an instant, by a superhuman effort, his 
 muscles standing out as if on the point of 
 breaking, Gaston wrenched out a bar, and 
 Madame Woreseff was able to escape. A 
 few seconds later, the Count, gaining 
 admittance to de Bligny, and finding him 
 placid and smiling, was compelled to 
 acknowledge that his suspicions were un- 
 founded and to withdraw making his 
 apologies. 
 
 Devouring his rage the Count was able 
 to show a calm face to his wife; but, 
 having strengthened his conviction by 
 inquiries skilfully made, he resolved to 
 force the Duke to fight ; and going to the 
 club he took the bank. Then, the cards 
 being exhausted, and Gaston having cut, 
 the Count, insultingly, declared his wish 
 that the game should cease. The Duke 
 coldly demanding an explanation, which
 
 142 The Ironmaster. 
 
 the Count refused to give. A challenge 
 followed. 
 
 The conduct of Woreseff was unani- 
 mously condemned. But the object sought 
 by the husband was attained. The next 
 day in a hard frost, a meeting took place. 
 In a little wood of birch-trees, they fought, 
 with pistols, at twenty paces, to fire till 
 one was disabled. Gaston, excessively 
 careful of his own life, showed no genero- 
 sity to the husband of his mistress. At 
 the signal he fired, lodging a ball in the 
 body of his adversary. The Count, ex- 
 tended upon the reddened snow, raised 
 himself on one knee, then, supporting his 
 elbow, with a savage determination he 
 aimed deliberately at de Bligny. But 
 weakened by the loss of blood his hand 
 trembled and he only succeeded in wound- 
 ing the Duke in the shoulder. 
 
 The Count recovered from his terrible
 
 The Ironmaster. 143 
 
 wound. As to Gaston, at the end of six 
 weeks, he resumed his usual mode of 
 existence. But, a singular fact, the ball 
 of Count Woreseff seemed to have cut the 
 extraordinary luck of the young Duke. 
 Was it the blood drawn which had 
 deranged the happy equilibrium of his 
 powers ? Or rather, favoured till then, 
 had Gaston wearied fortune ? From this 
 clay, he was at variance with success, and 
 lost incessantly. 
 
 His superb assurance forsook him, and 
 he experienced the incertitude of the 
 gambler who divines a bad card. He no 
 longer threw his money upon the table 
 with the firmness of a conqueror. He no 
 longer dominated his adversaries by his 
 imperturbable serenity. He paled now. 
 His unconscious hands beat nervously a 
 staccato march, upon the edge of the table. 
 His eyes, surrounded by a livid circle,
 
 144 TJic Ironmaster. 
 
 were hidden under their brows, and his 
 white teeth perpetually bit his lips. His 
 play became uncertain and weak. His 
 grand bearing of former times was relaxed 
 and broken. At the first glimmer of day, 
 he left the gaming-room, with hair dis- 
 ordered, collar open and cravat untied, 
 the front of his shirt creased and 
 discoloured from contact with the green 
 cloth of the table. 
 
 He was descending one by one the steps 
 of that ascent towards success that he had 
 climbed so triumphantly. And the money 
 so speedily acquired by play was dissipated 
 with alarming rapidity. The Duke was 
 embarrassed, and decided on borrowing, 
 the sure sign of an approaching downfall. 
 Requiring the help of others, he felt him- 
 self fallen and took it to heart. Formerly 
 he had deliciously enjoyed being the 
 sovereign of this world ofviveurs. Chance
 
 The Ironmaster. 145 
 
 having raised him above all his companions, 
 they had treated him as a master, and he 
 was proud of that supremacy. In an 
 instant his pedestal had crumbled. From 
 the day when he no longer won, for these 
 gamblers he ceased to exist. Now, on 
 arriving at the club, he was no more wel- 
 comed by a respectful silence. He gathered 
 to the right and to the left a few grasps 
 from insignificant hands, no one turned 
 from the table. He was merged in 
 indifferent groups: they no longer feared 
 him. 
 
 His passion for play had never been so 
 violent as in that difficult extremity. 
 Putting into his attacks a blind frenzy, and 
 not calculating his play, he lost and won 
 in one night enormous sums. No longer 
 the skilful cavalier who is able to 
 manage his steed. He was the unnerved 
 horse-breaker, borne away at a mad gallop 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 The Ironmaster. 
 
 by an animal that he does not seek to 
 control, and who has more chance of 
 being thrown and of breaking his bones 
 than of reaching the goal. In fact, de 
 Bligny never reached his goal. And 
 for him the return of fortune was 
 useless. Not knowing how to profit by it, 
 and becoming excited like a madman, he 
 lost all that he had won. 
 
 His Ambassador saved him from in- 
 evitable disaster by charging him with a 
 mission to the French Government at 
 Paris. The duel with Count Woreseff 
 having caused a very bad feeling, the 
 diplomatist thought it advisable to send 
 away the young Duke for a time, and gave 
 him a conge for three months. The 
 mission that he had not solicited, through 
 the pride of the combatant who would not 
 appear to desert the fight, Bligny accepted 
 with joy, feeling himself played out at St.
 
 The Ironmaster. 147 
 
 Petersburg. He hastened to disappear, so 
 as to collect his resources and decide upon 
 his future plan of action. 
 
 There t remained to him no more than 
 fifty thousand francs of net money, from 
 the lowest depths of his gambling purse, 
 which had been to him for some time a 
 veritable mine. With reduced means, his 
 ideas became suddenly changed. In the 
 tumult of his life of excess, the remem- 
 brance of Claire had vanished from his 
 memory. Now he again began to think of 
 his betrothed, and saw, in a delicious 
 mirage, the calm reposeful salon of the 
 Hotel de Beaulieu. By the gentle rays of 
 the lamp, Claire was working, bending 
 over her embroidery, her beautiful fair 
 hair shining like gold under the light. She 
 was patiently waiting for him, perhaps 
 sighing. He felt that he still loved her, 
 and made a vow to renounce the feverish 
 L 2
 
 148 The Ironmaster. 
 
 existence in which he had experienced 
 so many joys and so many cruel cares. 
 
 He thought that if he had dissipated 
 the remnant of the fortune left to him by 
 his father, Mademoiselle de Beaulieu was 
 rich, and that with the hundred thousand 
 pounds of income from her dowry a young 
 establishment would make a good ap- 
 pearance. Life in Paris was far from 
 being as costly as at St. Petersburg, and 
 then the time of his follies had passed. 
 They would stay six months on his estates 
 to economise, and devote the greater part 
 of the income to leading a fashionable life 
 during the winter. 
 
 The thoughts of the Duke dwelt on 
 these hopes, and he felt himself another 
 man, again tender and good. He enjoyed 
 this return to the first dream of his youth. 
 Throughout the whole length of the 
 route, he caressed these charming projects.
 
 The Ironmaster. 149 
 
 And when the train stopped under the 
 glazed roof of the station du Nord he 
 sprang lightly upon the platform, resuming 
 with joy the possession of this Paris, from 
 which his mind and heart had so seriously 
 gone astray. 
 
 It was evening. De Bligny took a 
 child-like pleasure in regarding, through 
 the windows of his carriage, the immense 
 enfilade of the Rue Lafayette, dotted by 
 numberless gas-lamps. The . movement of 
 the great town seized upon him. The 
 bearing of the pedestrians appeared to 
 him to have a peculiar vivacity, a special 
 gaiety. The circulation in the streets 
 was resounding. At the crossing of the 
 Faubourg Montmartre, he fell into an' 
 entanglement of vehicles ; the drivers apo- 
 strophised each other vigorously, and the 
 foot passengers, hurrying to pass, slipped 
 under the heads of the horses. His fiacre
 
 150 Th r Ironmaster. 
 
 again went on, skirting the high stone wall 
 of the garden of the Hotel Rothschild, 
 then, turning by the Rue du Helder, the 
 Duke suddenly found himself on the 
 Boulevard. 
 
 He felt a pleasurable shock. Carriages 
 in a long file were following each other 
 to the opera. In the roomy landaus 
 appeared women, in their elegant sorties dc 
 bal, scarves of lace thrown around their 
 heads. The intermittent brightness of 
 the Jabloschkoff, which threw a pale light 
 upon the facade of the theatre, pierced by 
 dark openings, glittered on the helmets of 
 the mounted municipal guard, who, en- 
 veloped in their cloaks, sat motionless in 
 the centre of the Place. At the crossings 
 of the streets and of the Boulevard there 
 was a prodigious movement. The shop- 
 fronts flamed out into the obscurity, the 
 pavements were black with people. It
 
 The Ironmaster. 151 
 
 was the magic picture of Paris at night, 
 presented in all her terrible and powerful 
 splendour. 
 
 The fiacre turned into the Rue de la 
 Paix, and, in a few seconds, Gaston was 
 at the door of his club. He alighted from 
 the carriage, a little giddy, his ears still 
 filled by the enervating noise of the 
 railway, his eyes dazzled by the lights. 
 Fatigued, he mounted to the room pre- 
 pared for him, and slept soundly till the 
 morning. 
 
 Gaston had not stayed a sufficiently 
 long time away from Paris to have lost 
 his taste for the Boulevard. He imme- 
 diately resumed his footing upon the 
 asphalt. His bad Russian varnish fell 
 from him at once and he found himself 
 Parisian from his head to his feet. During 
 two days he had the intoxication of Paris. 
 He went to the Champs-Elysces, to the
 
 152 The Ironmaster. 
 
 Bois; lounged at the H6tel des Ventcs; 
 did the thousand steps between the 
 Madeleine and the Boulevard Mont- 
 mar tre, happy to give grasps of the hand 
 and to exchange bows of recognition. He 
 frequented the little theatres, and threw 
 himself back luxuriously in his orchestra 
 stall, too narrow and imperfectly stuffed. 
 Pieces which were simply idiotic he found 
 exquisite. He had an inner contentment that 
 overflowed in continual admiration. In 
 fact, since leaving Russia, he was as one 
 released, seeming to have returned from 
 exile, to have escaped from the Bagne. He 
 was free now ; he could breathe. 
 
 In three days his affairs at the Ministry 
 were terminated. He decided to leave 
 Paris at the end of the week, wishing to 
 surprise Claire and the Marquise whom lie 
 knew to be at Beaulieu. In anticipation, 
 he enjoyed their glad welcome, and heard
 
 ; . The Ironmaster. 153 
 
 their cries of delight. For an Empire he 
 would not have renounced the pleasure of 
 arriving unexpectedly. 
 
 While sauntering, in the Rue de la 
 Paix, he went to buy of Bassot, the family 
 jeweller, a beautiful betrothal ring, an 
 enormous sapphire surrounded by bril- 
 liants, mounted with rare perfection. He 
 saw himself offering to Claire the em- 
 blazoned case of white velvet. She would 
 open it and, with a grave and gentle smile, 
 would extend to him the hoop of gold that 
 he might himself pass it, upon her slender, 
 rose-tipped finger. Then it would indeed 
 be finished, he would be her husband, the 
 ring was the first link of the chain which 
 would unite them. 
 
 Returning from the theatre, it was the 
 eve of his departure, the Duke found the 
 club more animated than on previous 
 days. Making inquiries, he learned that
 
 154 The Ironmast ,-. , 
 
 this movement, this brilliancy, these lights, 
 were caused by a special representation, 
 to be given in the Salle des Fe'tes. An 
 exclusive audience had assembled to hear 
 L' Education de la Prince sst' t an operetta 
 in two acts, the joint labour of two 
 men of talent, belonging to the first 
 society, the Due de Fcras wrote the 
 words, and Monsieur Jules Trelan the 
 music. 
 
 The cast was worthy of note. Baron, 
 of the Varietts, lent his genius to the part 
 of the Grand Chamberlain. Daubray, 
 from the Palais-Royal, interpreted the 
 ungrateful role of the Chevalier Alphonse 
 de Rouflaquette. Saint-Germain, of the 
 Gymnase, had consented, for once only, 
 to reveal himself as a great singer in the 
 character of Pepinster. The young Baron 
 Tresorier, a member of the club, and the 
 possessor of a charming tenor, had been
 
 The Ironmaster. 155 
 
 entrusted with the part of Triolet. 
 Madame Judic was the Princesse Hor- 
 tensia and Suzanne Lagier the Queen 
 Mother. 
 
 A tremendous success was expected. 
 The footmen on duty were outflanked, all 
 the world arriving at the same time, in 
 order to secure good places. And from 
 the large vestibule, hung with beautiful 
 tapestries of the reign of Louis XIV., a 
 murmur of voices, a froufrou of dresses 
 adjusted by little pats with the hand, 
 reached the Duke, with puffs of warm air, 
 impregnated by the delicate odour of 
 poudre a, la marechale. 
 
 Instead of going up to bed, the Duke 
 threw his overcoat to a footman, and, flat- 
 tening his Gibus, he entered. 
 
 A very trivial circumstance often thus 
 decides the destiny of men. Bligny, in 
 going to hear L'JUducation de la Prin*
 
 156 Tfie Ironmaster. 
 
 cesse, little suspected that he was going 
 seriously to change his future. 
 
 The Salle des Fetes was sparkling with 
 light. A large audience filled the chairs 
 attached one to another. It was an as- 
 semblage of satin, of velvet, of gauze, and 
 of silk, a gamut of brilliant colours, in 
 the midst of which shone with effulgence 
 the whiteness of bare shoulders. The' 
 light waving of fans stirred that enor- 
 mous crowd, like the motion of wings. 
 The hum of conversation, discreet and 
 suppressed, rose from time to time, when 
 a well-known personage entered the hall. 
 At the end, the stage, silent, severe, closed 
 from view by its red curtain. 
 
 The Duke walked towards a group of 
 black coats, amongst which he recognised 
 some of his friends. In the centre, much 
 surrounded, was Maitre Escande, a young 
 notary, recently appointed to his charge,
 
 The Ironmaster. 157 
 
 and the future heir of a family of arch- 
 in illionaires. 
 
 Attired with irreproachable elegance, 
 he was speaking with an important air. 
 But the sight of Bligny appeared to have 
 nailed his tongue to his palate. He re- 
 mained, his mouth open, gazing with stu- 
 pefaction at the Duke, who was smilingly 
 advancing towards them. There was a 
 sudden silence, broken only by this ejacu- 
 lation : " Oh ! it is indeed a great loss ! " 
 uttered in a commiserating tone by an 
 elderly man, rather bald, of tall figure, 
 wearing a suit which savoured of the 
 retired trader, his face very red, framed 
 with large ears, surmounted by tufts of 
 yellow hair, his throat supported by a high 
 white cravat, diamond studs in his shirt- 
 front, and on his feet low varnished 
 pumps, allowing to be seen his white cotton 
 stockings.
 
 158 The Ironmaster. 
 
 Bligny had penetrated into the group, 
 and, having exchanged a clasp of the 
 hand with his friends, waited, very per- 
 plexed by this silence, which seemed to 
 him extremely eloquent. He was about 
 to ask of what they were talking, and 
 how his appearance could cause so much 
 embarrassment, when the elderly man, lean- 
 ing towards one of the friends of the 
 Duke, whispered in his ear, loud enough 
 to be heard, and so that a refusal was not 
 possible : 
 
 "Present me to the Duke." 
 The friend turned towards Gaston with 
 an air very cnnuyv and very astonished at 
 the same time, which signified as clearly 
 as daylight : " What a strange fancy of 
 this Olibrius ! " Then, resigning him- 
 self: 
 
 " My dear Duke, Monsieur Moulinet." 
 "A manufacturer," added quickly the
 
 The Ironmaster. 159 
 
 man with the diamond studs ; <c late Judge 
 at the Tribunal de Commerce . . ." 
 
 And, with an impressive manner, taking 
 possession of the hands of the young man, 
 he continued : 
 
 " I have the honour, Monsieur le Due, 
 to be acquainted with your family. Ma- 
 demoiselle Moulinet, my daughter, was 
 educated at the Convent with Mademoi- 
 selle de Beaulieu, vour cousin. Yes, 
 
 * / 
 
 Monsieur, at the Sacre-Coeur, the first 
 convent of Paris . . . For Athenai's I 
 withhold nothing. All that there is of the 
 best is not good enough for her . . . And 
 I beg you to believe that I have learned, 
 with much regret, the painful news . . ." 
 In a moment M. Escande began to 
 make a diversion, at the risk of creasing 
 his shirt-front, or of disarranging the 
 artistically-constructed bow of his cravat. 
 He telegraphed with his arms, he drummed
 
 160 The Ironmaster. 
 
 with his feet, he exhausted himself with 
 "Hem! hem!" But Moulinet, too far 
 launched to stop, and, perhaps not wishing 
 to understand, later events will cause 
 the latter to be believed, continued his 
 complimentary condolences . . . 
 
 " Pardon," interrupted the Duke, frown- 
 ing, " but I do not seize your meaning 
 very well . . . You are speaking to me, 
 Monsieur, of painful tidings, which, it 
 appears, affect my family, and particu- 
 larly touch Mademoiselle de Beaulieu. 
 I do not know what you wish to say. 
 Will you, I beg, explain yourself more 
 clearly.?" 
 
 Maitre Escande appeared altogether 
 annoyed. And, as Moulinet kept silence, 
 his head bent, as though regardless of 
 the question, the young notary took 
 the initiative, and, advancing towards 
 Bligny :
 
 The Ironmaster. 101 
 
 "MonDieuI my dear Duke," said he, 
 in a solemn tone, " I am grieved that you 
 should learn this evening, and in a place 
 so little fitted for such a confidence, the 
 fact to which M. Moulinet has just made 
 allusion. . . . However, as you would 
 certainly know to-morrow all that you 
 demand, there is no indiscretion in en- 
 lightening you immediately. Well, as 
 you were entering, I was telling these 
 gentlemen that, having gone to England 
 upon business, I was advised, no matter 
 by whom, that the law-suit, begun in his 
 lifetime by the Marquis de Beaulieu, and 
 continued by his representatives, has just 
 been lost, without the possibility of 
 appeal. . . . ' 
 
 At this revelation, so unexpected, the 
 Duke turned pale. The loss of this law- 
 suit, upon which Madame de Beaulieu 
 founded such great hopes, was ruin for 
 
 VOL. i. M
 
 162 The Ironmaster. 
 
 Claire. Gaston made an effort, and, 
 subduing his trouble : 
 
 " Permit me, my dear Maitre," said he, 
 with hauteur, "to be amazed at the 
 facility with which you made to these 
 gentlemen communications relative to the 
 de Beaulieu family. I did not think that 
 my affairs were of a nature to serve as a 
 text for tale-bearers, or for the slanderous 
 stories of the idle. I shall be much 
 obliged to you if, in the future, you 
 will be so good as to show more reti- 
 cence. . . . ' 
 
 The young notary grew pallid at 
 these words ; his round face became 
 furrowed from the agitation of his 
 nerves. He shook his head, drawing 
 a deep breath, and, with a ruffled 
 air: 
 
 " But, my dear Duke ! " exclaimed he, 
 "believe that . . "
 
 The Ironmaster. 163 
 
 " I believe as much as I choose," dryly 
 interrupted de Bligny. 
 
 And, measuring his interlocutor from 
 head to foot, he walked slowly away, 
 followed by his silent friends. 
 
 Moulinet and Escande remained toge- 
 ther, regarding each other for a moment 
 without speaking ; then the manufacturer, 
 grimacing a smile : 
 
 " A stormy race, these de Bligny ! 
 You have been sharply brought up, eh ! 
 my dear Maitre? And I have had my 
 share of the splashes. It is all the same 
 to me a stormy race ! He is ruined, 
 that one, eh ? " 
 
 " Utterly," said the notary with dis- 
 dain; "and he plays the great lord; he 
 cuts one short ; he gives one lessons. ..." 
 
 " Exactly ! Do you see, mon cher, the 
 ^Revolutions, whatever they may do, will 
 never make us the equals of these people. 
 M 2
 
 164 The Ironmaster. 
 
 And this Duke will be a very desirable 
 husband for a rich girl." 
 
 Three blows, struck at regular intervals 
 upon the stage, with slow solemnity, in- 
 terrupted the conversation. Escande and 
 Moulinet seated themselves. The Duke 
 went to take his place at a little distance. 
 The orchestra attacked the overture. A 
 brilliant waltz, of an enchanting rhythm, 
 rang out its light melody. The Duke, 
 apparently attentive, was reflecting deeply. 
 The ruin of Claire was a thunderbolt 
 which blasted his future. He was affi- 
 anced to Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, and 
 she was poor. Not for an instant, we 
 must say it in his praise, had Gaston 
 thought of breaking his engagement. The 
 idea did not even occur to him that he 
 could marry any other woman than Claire. 
 He considered himself pledged to her. 
 He had upon him, next his heart, in its
 
 The Ironmaster. 165 
 
 case of white velvet, stamped with 
 the united armorial bearings of the 
 families de Beaulieu and de Bligny, 
 the ring of betrothal. But he was more 
 surely bound by his wofd than by that 
 ring. 
 
 However, Claire without fortune, was 
 mediocrity for his whole life, the necessity 
 of imprisoning himself in a chateau in the 
 depths of the Province, and of vegetating 
 there as a gentleman farmer, a veritable 
 savage, without society, from dread of the 
 expense. It would be for the handsome, 
 the bewitching, the exquisite Gas ton, like 
 being buried in his full strength, at the 
 height of his brilliancy. He bitterly re- 
 gretted having squandered the enormous 
 sums that he had won. So little accept- 
 able as was money gained at play, it was 
 still money ; and to live without resources 
 in this Positive Century, in which each
 
 166 The Ironmaster. 
 
 person is estimated only at his pecuniary 
 value, is not to live. 
 
 Then he thought with pity of the despair 
 of Claire and of her mother when they 
 should learn the fatal news. They still 
 ignored it, as this fool Escande had brought 
 it quite fresh from England. Gaston 
 wished to hasten his journey, so as to 
 be sooner near these poor women, to be 
 in reach of them, to soften the blow, and 
 to console them. 
 
 The curtain rose, disclosing a golden 
 and autumnal scene. In front of a sunny 
 landscape stood reapers and gleaners sing- 
 ing in chorus, and with all their might, to 
 an air quick, gay, and very animated, 
 these words of a feeble originality : 
 
 " Chantez, belles filles, 
 Glanez, beaux garQons, 
 Levez vos faucilles 
 Au bruit des chansons ! "
 
 The Ironmaster. 167 
 
 And, as if these trivial words had 
 thrown the Duke into a fresh 'current of 
 thought, he saw himself at Beaulieu, with 
 Claire, under the blue sky ; the reapers 
 were singing in the wheat ; a warmth and 
 a busy humming ascended from the earth. 
 He was penetrated by a delicious languor. 
 And, near her whom he loved, he felt 
 happy in his poverty. It was a calm so 
 profound, a sweetness so peaceful, after the 
 storms of his short life of dissipation ! 
 He enjoyed it fully, and anticipated in that 
 mediocrity to which the ruin of Claire 
 condemned him, satisfactions unknown 
 and captivating. 
 
 Upon the stage the play was unfolding 
 itself, and the Chevalier Alphonse de 
 Rouflaquette was singing his grand duo 
 with the Princess. The caressing and 
 passionate voice of Judic, murmuring with 
 burning ardour :
 
 168 The Ironmaster. 
 
 " Yiens ! A ma grandeur pour toi je renonce. 
 Quittons mon palais, desertons ma cour ! " 
 
 And Daubray, passing his hand over 
 the golden accroche-cceur of his moustache, 
 replied, with a wicked twinkle of the eye : 
 
 " Non pis I La grandeur n'exclut pas 1'amour ! 
 Richesse et pouvoir, conserve en ce jour, 
 Conserve tout pour ton Alphonse ! " 
 
 And the popular artiste crowned his 
 phrase by a long-sustained unaccompanied 
 note : the effect was prodigious, and excited 
 stampings of enthusiasm. L' Education de 
 la Princesse was a tremendous success. 
 The manager of the Varie*te*s became 
 thoughtful, dreaming already of running 
 that little piece through the following 
 winter. 
 
 Moulinet, thrown back in his chair, 
 gently moved his head, like a bear listen- 
 ing to the sound of a flute. He thought 
 but little of the adventures of the
 
 The Ironmaster. 169 
 
 Princesse Hortensia. Another Princess 
 interested him much more : it was his 
 daughter, the black - browed Athenais. 
 He saw her at the Convent quite little, 
 with her frock too short, coarse shoes, and 
 red hands, her ungracious and imperfectly 
 sculptured face, her body angular, awk- 
 ward, the work of formation hardly begun. 
 She came to the parlour, in the midst 
 of her elegantly-attired companions, who 
 surveyed her with an air of disdain. He 
 was not rich at that epoch, the father 
 Moulinet; he had not yet founded his 
 great chocolate manufactory at Yillepintej 
 nor invented the prospectus upon blue 
 paper drawn up in the style of a dentist, 
 which made his productions known to the 
 smallest communes of France. 
 
 At that time he was selling Colonial 
 goods by wholesale. And the noble 
 mothers of the companions of Athenais
 
 170 The Ironmaster. 
 
 did not restrain themselves from mani- 
 festing their astonishment that the heiress 
 of " that grocer " had been received as a 
 boarder. The echoes of the little intrigues 
 of the school-room had reached his ears. 
 He knew with what arrogance his 
 daughter was treated by the pupils. And 
 he well remembered that at the head of 
 the opposing coterie, the Nobles, as they 
 called them, was the proud Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu. 
 
 How many times he had heard Athe*na'is 
 let fall words of anger in speaking of her 
 enemy ! She vowed, while weeping, that she 
 would be avenged. Had it not come, the 
 vengeance, and without their having put 
 out a hand to prepare it? Athe'nais 
 Moulinet was now one of the richest 
 heiresses in Paris, and the haughty Claire 
 de Beaulieu was a girl without a dowry. 
 The daughter of " the grocer," dressed by
 
 The Ironmaster. 171 
 
 Worth, her hair arranged to suit her face, 
 accustomed to luxury, had become refined, 
 transformed, and, illumined by her halo of 
 millions, passed for one of the prettiest 
 girls of the rich Bourgeoisie. The 
 daughter of the Marquise, clothed in 
 a little simple gown, was going to 
 live in the Provinces, to disappear in 
 obscurity, and who could know? per- 
 haps to miss the marriage long since 
 prepared for her. 
 
 The Due de Bligny, so brilliant a noble- 
 man, the bearer of so good a name ! 
 Very often, when the young Duke went 
 with his aunt, the Marquise, to see Claire 
 at the Sacre-Coeur, Athdnai's had become 
 pale with envy on seeing them side by 
 side. She divined that they were destined 
 for each other. Claire would be a 
 Duchess. And she, Athe'nais ? She would 
 marry some notary, an Escande or a
 
 172 The Ironmaster. 
 
 tradesman, like her father, and would be 
 the parent stem, in her turn, of humiliated 
 daughters or of scorned sons. 
 
 At that thought Moulinet gave an arro- 
 gant smile. He threw himself back in his 
 chair, and plunging his hand into one of 
 the pockets of his trowsers, which returned 
 a silver-like sound of money, he murmured 
 these words : " Why not that ? Will 
 not my means permit me to pay for the 
 husband who shall please her?" He 
 turned with a grave air, and, fixing his 
 eyes upon the elegant crowd that sur- 
 rounded him, seemed to seek the son-in- 
 law who would suit him. Supported by 
 his millions nothing appeared to him im- 
 possible. Where was the audacious one 
 who would repulse the hand of Athe*nais 
 when presented to him, holding a cheque 
 of an indeterminate value ? Would it be 
 a Count, a Marquis ? What sum would
 
 The Ironmaster. 173 
 
 be necessary to obtain him? They had 
 only to speak. Moulinet could as easily 
 give ten millions as one. To the auction 
 room for a husband ! The father was 
 rich enough to buy a Prince for his 
 daughter. 
 
 And his glance became daring, almost 
 menacing. It wandered vaguely over all 
 those unknown faces, and arrested itself 
 upon that of the Due de Bligny. The 
 young man was gloomy. Moulinet said to 
 himself: " He is thinking of his cousin." 
 And a dull irritation took possession of 
 him. For what purpose did these confused 
 ideas visit Moulinet ? In truth, he could 
 not have explained it. Nevertheless the 
 commencement of a project was already 
 budding in his brain. 
 
 There was a loud burst of applause in 
 the hall. The curtain had just fallen 
 upon the first act of the operetta. In
 
 174 The Ironmaster. 
 
 the midst of the clappings and of the 
 recalls, the Duke rose, accompanied by his 
 friends, and, with an air of indifference, 
 walked towards the outlet. Moulinet 
 followed him for a moment with his eyes, 
 then, quitting his place, took the same 
 direction as the young man. 
 
 On the second floor, play had not been 
 interrupted by the fete. The rooms re- 
 served for gambling rested silent and 
 peaceful. Only the choruses of the 
 operetta reached as an indistinct murmur 
 to the ears of the players. Nothing had 
 been able to distract them. They knew 
 that those below were amusing them- 
 selves. But what did it matter to them ? 
 Their pleasure was upon that table in the 
 form of a horse-shoe, under the blazing 
 gas that was drying up their brains. 
 
 "Women, elegant and adorned, breathing 
 sweet odours in their fresh toilettes, were
 
 The Ironmaster. 175 
 
 grouped like a bouquet of flowers. They 
 cared nothing about them. The Queen of 
 Spades and the Queen of Hearts were a 
 hundred times more attractive in their 
 eyes. And, insensible to the seductions 
 of the fete, deaf to the voices which were 
 singing, to the orchestra which was 
 furiously raging with all its instruments 
 joyously broken loose, they sat there, in a 
 heavy and enervating atmosphere, throw- 
 ing money upon the green cloth. 
 
 Mechanically the Duke had gained the 
 rooms. He went in that direction, as if 
 by chance. "Was it, then, his destiny 
 which brought him yet once more, after 
 so many good resolutions, to the side of 
 that table ? The Banker was at that mo- 
 ment saying: " Messieurs, faites vos jeux." 
 Gaston, drawing from his pocket a bank- 
 note for a thousand francs, let it fall with 
 a careless hand. He won. Full of sur-
 
 176 The Ironmaster. 
 
 prise : " Tiens ! " escaped him. He had 
 forgotten how to win. He was curious to 
 see if his luck would persist, and seated 
 himself. 
 
 Moulinet, at that instant, entered the 
 gambling room. It was the first time 
 that he had set foot in one, having, on 
 principle, a horror of the so-called games 
 of chance. He wished to have the power 
 of correcting chance by skill. He played 
 willingly at Bezique, but was ignorant of 
 Whist. However, he approached the table, 
 and, seeing that Gaston left his hundred 
 louis upon the cloth, gravely placed ten 
 francs beside the pile of the Duke. 
 Apparently, Moulinet wished to have the 
 right of watching Bligny. Not desiring 
 to seem, indiscreet, he bought this right 
 by playing. Moulinet was a man of use- 
 ful concessions. 
 
 The game continued, but the luck
 
 The Ironmaster. 177 
 
 turned. The ten francs of the virtuous 
 trader appeared to have broken the charm. 
 Bligny became pale, was again captured 
 by his passion for play, and staked madly 
 his last bank-notes. Moulin et, disdainful 
 of gain, continued to risk ten francs. 
 
 When, at daybreak, the game ceased 
 for lack of players, the Duke had lost 
 forty thousand francs. For some hours, 
 Moulinet, already satisfied as to the des- 
 tiny of the intended of Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu, had slept a peaceful sleep in his 
 superb Hotel on the Boulevard Males- 
 herbes. 
 
 Gaston, his head dazed, enervated, and 
 burning, at the time when he ought to 
 have taken the train to Beaulieu, mounted 
 to his room, and, leaning his elbows on 
 the bar that crossed his window, gazed at 
 the sweepers in the Rue de la Paix, who 
 were beginning their work in the early 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 The Ironmaster. 
 
 morning. The exquisite freshness of the 
 air revived him, the pure sky was lightly 
 tinted with rose. The young man said to 
 himself: "I was a fool last night, but I 
 will leave this evening. Au (liable le 
 baccara ! " He dressed himself, descended, 
 took a carriage, and had himself driven to 
 the Bois de Boulogne. In the evening he 
 did not leave, but returned to the gaming 
 table. 
 
 Meanwhile, Claire, unshaken in her 
 confidence and unchangeable in her love, 
 awaited the return of her affianced.
 
 The Ironmaster. 179 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 TN the evening of the day on which. 
 Bachelin brought to the Chateau de 
 Beaulieu two pieces of news equally bad, 
 the loss of the lawsuit and the sojourn of 
 Gaston in Paris, the Marquise, still quite 
 stunned by such a rude blow, was seated 
 in the depths of her easy-chair in the grand 
 salon overlooking the Terrace. She was 
 reflecting profoundly, and her painful 
 thoughts betrayed themselves on her face. 
 The Marquis, entering abruptly, tore his 
 mother from her sorrowful reverie. She 
 shivered, looked for an instant at her son 
 with trouble, as if expecting a fresh mis- 
 fortune. And, seeing his eyes calm, his 
 mouth smiling, gave a sigh of relief: 
 N 2
 
 180 The Ironmaster. 
 
 " What is it ? " said she. 
 
 "Our cousins de PreTont are arriving, 
 my mother," answered the young man. 
 " The break has just passed the gates, it 
 is entering the great avenue." 
 
 In fact, in the quiet air of the evening, 
 the noise of wheels grinding over gravel 
 could be heard. The chilly Marquise 
 covered her head with a lace scarf, cast a 
 shawl around her, and, crossing the large 
 marble-paved vestibule, furnished with tall 
 cabinets in carved pear-tree and hung with 
 old tapestry representing gigantic figures, 
 advanced upon the perron. The break, 
 describing a sharp curve, had just drawn 
 up. A laughing face, surmounted by a 
 toque adorned with lophopkore, appeared 
 suddenly. A hand gloved in Suede was 
 eagerly waved, while a voice fresh and 
 ringing cried : 
 
 " Good day ! Good day, all ! "
 
 The Ironmaster. 181 
 
 The young Marquis was already at the 
 carriage. A wave of silk sprang out with 
 extreme vivacity, allowing to be seen upon 
 the step a small shoe of reddish brown 
 kid, from which rose a charming ankle, 
 encased in a stocking of gray silk. And 
 the Baronne de Prefont in person bounded 
 into the arms of the Marquise, embracing 
 her, and exclaiming in broken sentences : 
 
 " Ah ! my aunt, how delighted I am ! 
 Ah ! my good aunt ! It is such a 
 long time ! . . . And you, my dear 
 friends ..." 
 
 And, throwing herself with effusion into 
 the arms of Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, 
 she recommenced her tender ejaculations, 
 accompanied by loving caresses : 
 
 " My dear Claire ! It seems to me a 
 Century ! " 
 
 Then, without hesitation, she passed to 
 Octave, by whom she permitted herself to
 
 182 The Ironmaster. 
 
 be saluted on both cheeks. After which 
 she exchanged with him a hearty hand- 
 shake in the English fashion, and laugh- 
 ing, rustling her gown, recovering her 
 breath amidst little cries of delight, taking 
 by assault in one moment the Chateau and 
 its inhabitants, with an affectionate and 
 overflowing joy. Then, suddenly, becom- 
 ing serious, the Baroness cried : 
 
 " Ah ! mon Dieu ! And my husband ! " 
 
 She looked quickly around her: " Can 
 I have already lost my husband ? " 
 
 A quiet voice replied : 
 
 " Here I am, dear friend ; I awaited 
 patiently the end of your raptures, to 
 salute these ladies in my turn." 
 
 And, emerging from the shade, a young 
 man of about thirty, in a travelling cos- 
 tume, a small bag suspended from his 
 shoulders by a strap, appeared in the full 
 light, and, with smiling and easy polite-
 
 The Ironmaster. 183 
 
 ness, drew near to the Marquise and 
 Claire. 
 
 " Well ! Salute them ! " exclaimed 
 quickly the vivacious Baroness. " There ! 
 that is done ! Now, go to superintend 
 the unloading of my trunks. I recom- 
 mend especially to you the large black 
 box containing my hats. You will answer 
 for it, with your head ! " 
 
 "Yes, dear friend," placidly answered 
 the Baron. 
 
 And, turning to Octave, who had clasped 
 his hand : 
 
 " Nineteen trunks, my friend ! " added 
 he, with a resigned smile. " Six hundred 
 pounds overweight ! I believe that my 
 wife transports artillery ! " 
 
 The ladies re-entered the salon. The 
 Baroness leaning toward the Marquise : 
 
 " Ah ! my dear aunt," whispered she 
 with volubility, raising her eyes to
 
 184 The Ironmaster. 
 
 heaven : " What things we have to tell 
 you I . . ." 
 
 And, taking the hands of the Marquise 
 with an air of commiseration : 
 
 " You know that we love you, and that 
 nothing that affects you is indifferent to 
 us ..." 
 
 As Madame de Beaulieu glanced with 
 disquietude at Claire, already attentive 
 and lending an ear : 
 
 " Yes, I know . . . But my husband 
 will tell you all ..." 
 
 And, throwing herself upon Claire, as 
 if to efface the effect of her imprudent 
 words : 
 
 "We are going to Switzerland, thou 
 knowest ? . . . But we did not wish to 
 pass so near Beaulieu without stopping 
 . . . We shall stay with you a few days ; 
 then we shall leave in a carriage, and we 
 shah 1 enter by the defile of Verrieres . . .
 
 The Ironmaster. 185 
 
 \ 
 Alas ! our poor Army of the Bast ! The 
 
 Baron was wounded at Joux in the last 
 combat of the rear-guard with the Badois 
 of that terrible Werder . . . You under- 
 stand that for me it is a pilgrimage . . . 
 My husband behaved like a hero ... Of 
 two hundred men who made up his com- 
 pany . . . Poor fellows, frozen in the 
 snow, it is frightful ! . . . He only 
 brought back eighty . . . And they have 
 not decorated him ! ... It is true that 
 we are Legitimists . . . Ah ! this Govern- 
 ment, my friend, what an abomination! . . . 
 Do they believe about here that Gambetta 
 will decide to accept the Ministry ? " 
 
 And she continued, the little Baroness, 
 smiling, animated, becoming dramatic, 
 prattling like a parrot, passing from one 
 subject to another with an amazing versa- 
 tility of ideas and diversity of expressions, 
 a living kaleidoscope, changing its out-
 
 186 The Ironmaster. 
 
 lines, and varying its aspects instan- 
 taneously. 
 
 The Marquise and Claire hearkened to 
 her, astonished and dazed. In the silence 
 and calm of the country, they had become 
 grave and thoughtful. The animation of 
 this Parisienne, with her noisy and flighty 
 bearing, gave them a sensation of vertigo. 
 
 Without awaiting a reply to her ques- 
 tion, the Baroness crossed the salon, ad- 
 vancing towards a window from which 
 the view spread in the distance, over the 
 valley full of shadow, in the depth of which 
 flamed the smelting furnaces of the iron- 
 works, casting out into the obscurity the 
 glare of a conflagration, she cried, clapping 
 her hands with child-like admiration : 
 
 " How beautiful ! One could think it 
 a scene at the opera. Ah ! nature ! . . . 
 How happy you are, living in the midst 
 of the fields and of the woods ! "What a
 
 The Ironmaster. 187 
 
 sweet existence, and how it preserves ! 
 Look at me, my aunt, and compare me 
 with Claire. We are the same age, and 
 I might be her mother. ... It is the 
 fatigue of the balls, of the dinners, of the 
 visits, of the plays, the enervation of 
 Parisian life, which fades one thus. . . . 
 It is a veritable labour, so much pleasure ! 
 You are smiling, my aunt. You are going 
 to tell me that my husband and myself, 
 we might do otherwise, and pass four 
 months, at least, on our estates in Bur- 
 gundy. . . . Without doubt. But the 
 way ? The Baron, who is a savant, has 
 his intellectual centre in the capital. He 
 has his scientific meetings, and the Aca- 
 demie . . . Ah ! mon Dieu ! the Academie ! 
 . . I myself have a thousand obligations, 
 from which I cannot escape : relations to 
 entertain, works of charity to perform . . . 
 And then, in fine, my daughter . . . whom
 
 188 The Ironmaster. 
 
 I cannot always leave alone with her 
 governess. And when we have been two 
 months at the sea-side, two months tra- 
 velling, two months at Nice . . . you see 
 what is left. . . . Ah ! I am very tired . . . 
 Let us sit down." 
 
 And, passing like a whirlwind between 
 Madame de Beaulieu and Claire, the 
 Baroness went to bury herself in the 
 depths of the easy-chair of the Marquise. 
 
 " There, now tell me of yourself. What 
 do you do here ? With what do you occupy 
 your time ? And Octave ? And your 
 neighbour, the Ironmaster ? . . . You see 
 that I remember all that you write to me. 
 Oh ! mon Dieu ! what would become of 
 one if one had not some memory ? " 
 
 Gathering herself together in her large 
 chair, the Baroness gently closed her eyes, 
 preparing to listen with all her heart to 
 her aunt and to her cousin. . There
 
 The Ironmaster. 189 
 
 
 
 was an instant of silence, and, almost 
 without transition, like a bird which, after 
 having trilled his last roulade, falls asleep 
 on the edge of the nest, the Parisienne, 
 fatigued by her journey, gently let fall her 
 head, heavy with sleep, upon the back of 
 the chair, ornamented by old guipure, 
 and the light breath passing between 
 her half-open lips, indicated that she had 
 yielded to slumber. 
 
 The Marquise and Claire exchanged a 
 good-natured smile, and, each taking her 
 work, awaited the waking of the charming 
 woman, still so much a child. 
 
 The Baronne de Prefont, nee Sophie d' 
 Hennecourt, the irony of appellations ! 
 Sophie, that name of wisdom, given to this 
 simpleton, was the only daughter of the 
 sister of the Marquis de Beaulieu. She 
 had been educated with Claire at the 
 Convent, and was one of the clan of nobles
 
 190 The Ironmaster. 
 
 so rude to the little Bourgeoises. And 
 she also had been acquainted with the 
 heiress of M. Moulinet. With the heart 
 of an angel, but the brain of a bird, she 
 passed her life in redeeming, by her good- 
 ness, the evil that she caused by her levity. 
 Not a little had she contributed to the 
 hatred vowed to Mademoiselle de Beau- 
 lieu by Athe'nais. It was Sophie who, 
 from the first day, gave to Mademoiselle 
 Moulinet the name of " little Cacao." And 
 as a battle between these school-girls of 
 thirteen years was imminent, Claire, tall, 
 strong, more reasonable, and with a shade 
 of hauteur, parted the combatants. 
 
 Athe'nais had been more irritated against 
 the one who interposed than against her 
 who attacked. And then Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu, by the firmness of her cha- 
 racter, dominated all her companions. 
 She was, in a manner, the incarnation of
 
 The Ironmaster-. 191 
 
 that Aristocracy which rendered life so 
 hard to the little Moulinet. Claire, by 
 her superiority, had brought upon herself 
 the rancour of the despised child. 
 
 The truth is, that Claire had never been 
 unkind to Athenai's. But their two na- 
 tures were absolutely antagonistic. Every- 
 thing in the patrician offended and ruffled 
 the Bourgeoise : the elegance of her figure, 
 the whiteness of her hands, the rich sim- 
 plicity of her dress, even to her note- 
 paper, stamped with coloured initials, and 
 the gloves that she wore during recrea- 
 tion. 
 
 Claire and her friends used the familiar 
 " thee " and " thou " between themselves. 
 Athenais affected to tutoyer them all. 
 Upon that there were terrible discussions 
 in this world in miniature. Sophie d'Henne- 
 court, exasperated, could not support 
 the tutoiementj and accentuated "you"
 
 192 The 
 
 to the daughter of the chocolate-maker. 
 Claire, laughing at these distinctions, 
 which appeared to her childish, said 
 " thou " to Athe*nais. And the latter 
 saw in that familiarity an insult. The 
 hostility of the little Moulinet did not 
 escape Claire. She affected not to notice 
 it. And perhaps, unknown to herself, her 
 scorn for Athenais became marked. 
 
 Between Mademoiselle d'Hennecourt 
 and Cacao, war was sharp and incessant. 
 One day Sophie, returning from the par- 
 lour, went out into the court with a bag 
 of chocolate. She offered it to all her 
 companions, then, approaching Athe"nais 
 with a courteous air, stretched it out to 
 her, saying : " Wilt thou have some ? Oh ! 
 thou mayst venture ! It does not come 
 from thy shop ; it is from the Marquis." 
 
 The little Moulinet turned pallid with 
 rage, and, springing upon the bag, sent
 
 The Ironmaster. 193 
 
 it flying through a window, the panes 
 of glass falling in shivers upon the gravel. 
 A skirmish followed, in the course of 
 which Athenais, being violently shoved, 
 cut her hand upon a fragment of glass 
 that had remained fixed to the basement 
 of the wall. The violence of her anger, 
 and terror at seeing her own blood, caused 
 the little Moulinet to swoon. By a sud- 
 den change in her impulsive nature, 
 Sophie seized Athenais in her arms, and 
 helped to lead her to the infirmary, ac- 
 cusing herself, weeping, and afflicted at 
 being the cause of the accident. 
 
 From this day the scene changed. 
 Athenais put herself openly at the head 
 of the faction of the Bourgeoises, and the 
 Court was divided into two camps : the 
 Nobles on one side, the Rich on the other. 
 The children grew up, and their quarrels 
 took a more discreet and sullen form, 
 
 VOL. i. o
 
 194 The Ironmaster. 
 
 which savoured already of the lessons of 
 the outer world. They no longer clawed 
 each other with their hands, but they tore 
 each other much more cruelly by words. 
 Claire, haughty and contemptuous, stood 
 aside, taking no part in the war. She was 
 none the less abhorred for it. Between 
 herself and Athe'na'is there was a per- 
 petual though hidden struggle. It was 
 understood that Mademoiselle Moulinet 
 was the antagonist of Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu; and, indeed, the two adversa- 
 ries were of equal strength. 
 
 The father Moulinet was on the road 
 to amass a colossal fortune. It was re- 
 ported that he had discovered a way of 
 making vanilla from coal, and that in his 
 chocolate he substituted burnt almonds for 
 cacao. That alimentary chemistry brought 
 to him each year immense sums. And in 
 the Parisian world the trader had begun to
 
 The Ironmaster. 195 
 
 
 
 be relied upon as of financial value. He 
 was appointed judge at the Tribunal de 
 Commerce, and his friends, when speak- 
 ing of him, gravely nodded their heads, 
 saying : " He is a very rich man." 
 
 Moulinet, jovial and familiar, said cheer- 
 fully of himself: "Papa has the purse ! " 
 For the rest he was vulgar, but not 
 wicked. Capable of rendering a service 
 on condition that it was to his interest to 
 do it. Very desirous of widening the 
 circle of his acquaintances and of purify- 
 ing his society, looking always above and 
 never below him. It was thus that he 
 had succeeded, by continually trying to 
 climb. 
 
 One fine day he drove to the Sacre- 
 Coeur in a handsome landau with a pair 
 of horses, sent for his daughter to the 
 parlour, and Athe*nais showed herself no 
 more at the Convent. She was then 
 o 2
 
 196 The Ironmaster. 
 
 sixteen years of age. The following 
 Sunday her companions met her in the 
 Bois in the magnificent carriage of her 
 father. And, from a distance, she smiled 
 amiably, recognising them with eagerness, 
 as though anxious to greet them from 
 such a fine equipage. 
 
 A few months later Sophie and Claire 
 returned also to their families. And the 
 war ceased from want of combatants. 
 
 Nevertheless hatred was nursed with 
 warmth in the heart of Mademoiselle 
 Moulinet. She followed with her eyes her 
 rivals. At the opera, from the box on 
 the second tier that her father had pro- 
 cured with much difficulty, she saw with 
 anger Mesdemoiselles d'Hennecourt and 
 de Beaulieu throned on the first tier in a 
 box between columns. There was during 
 the entr'actes a perpetual going and 
 coming of elegant cavaliers. In the salon
 
 The Ironmaster. 197 
 
 at the back they were conversing, they 
 were eating bonbons. In the box of 
 Moulinet, no one ; emptiness and silence. 
 
 Athenais said to herself: " Very cer- 
 tainly, in the number of those visitors, there 
 is one who will propose and who will marry 
 Claire." The beauty of Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu had become adorable. She had 
 the exquisite whiteness of a blonde. And 
 when she appeared in a rose-coloured robe 
 with a low bodice, without jewels, she 
 excited great admiration. 
 
 It was Sophie who married first. The 
 Baron de Prefont declared himself, and 
 the marriage was celebrated at Saint- 
 Augustin with great pomp. There was a 
 grand Mass, to which Mademoiselle 
 Moulinet was not invited. However, 
 several late pupils from the Convent pro- 
 fessed to have seen her thickly veiled, 
 accompanied by her maid, and watching
 
 198 The Ironmaster. 
 
 the ceremony from one of the side aisles. 
 That offensive recognition was never 
 proved. The shadow of a pillar protected 
 Athdnais devouring with her eyes her 
 enemies. Claire was bridesmaid, and 
 made the collection for the poor with the 
 little Vicointe de Pontac. When she 
 approached the place where Mademoiselle 
 Moulinet had established her observatory, 
 the latter glided away into the crowd and 
 lost herself in the distance. Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu, unconcerned, did not remark 
 this manoeuvre. She continued her col- 
 lection, smiling with sweetness, and_never 
 dreamed that, if looks could kill, she 
 would have fallen dead in the middle of the 
 church. 
 
 Sophie married, the Due de Bligny 
 bound for St, Petersburg, the existence of 
 Claire became very retired. And, having 
 passed the last six months far from Paris,
 
 The Ironmaster. 199 
 
 the recollection of Athenais had faded com- 
 pletely from her mind. "While watching the 
 gentle slumber of the Baronne de Prefont, 
 in the large chair, she thought no more 
 of the quarrels for which that charming, 
 giddy girl had formerly given the signal. 
 
 The door of the salon opening, awoke 
 the Baroness. She saw her husband and 
 Octave enter, and rising quickly to her 
 feet, with all her lucidity instantaneously 
 recovered : 
 
 "Ah! heaven! You have allowed me 
 to sleep !" cried she. And beginning to 
 laugh : " It is here, then, as in the fairy 
 tales, the Castle of the ' Sleeping Beauty in 
 the Wood.' Hardly arrived, and we close 
 our eyes. But, where is the Prince Charm- 
 ing ? Can he be you, Baron ? No, it is 
 Octave ! My aunt, pardon me ! ... It is 
 the air of your country which is the cause 
 of all ! It has fatigued me. We are not
 
 200 The Ironmaster. 
 
 accustomed in Paris to an atmosphere of 
 this quality." 
 
 " It is nothing," said the Marquise, 
 " thou art overfatigued. It is the first 
 effect; thou wilt become inured to it." 
 
 The Baron approached with his tranquil 
 gravity : 
 
 "Dear friend, I have executed your 
 orders, I have sent in your luggage : the 
 whole Chateau is encumbered." 
 
 "That is well," answered the Baroness, 
 with the air of a queen satisfied with her 
 people. 
 
 "Wilt thou that I show thee thy apart- 
 ment ?" asked Claire, seeing the Baroness 
 standing, as if undecided. 
 
 "Willingly," said the young woman. 
 
 And, taking a bag of red leather stamped 
 with her arms, that she had placed upon 
 a chair on entering, glanced meaningly at 
 her husband.
 
 The Ironmaster. 201 
 
 He hastened to her to disembarrass her 
 of it, but drawing back the bag with 
 vivacity : 
 
 " No, not you," said she, " you are too 
 absent. And this requires caution. Stay, 
 you, Octave." And a second time, with 
 a glance, she pointed out the Marquise to 
 her husband. 
 
 " Dear friend, I am very flattered by 
 your confidence," replied Prefont with a 
 smile. " Go, Octave, my good fellow, do 
 the drudgery. I shall remain in the com- 
 pany of your mother." 
 
 The Baroness, happy at having made 
 herself understood, gave a little approving 
 sign to the Baron, and, taking Claire by 
 the arm, as if to be more sure that she would 
 not disturb the tete-a-tete prepared for her 
 husband with the Marquise, went out 
 warbling an air. 
 
 The Baron, grave and collected, took
 
 202 The Ironmaster. 
 
 several steps in silence. The Marquise, 
 sunk in her easy-chair, gazed vaguely before 
 her. The salon was dark. The fire, that 
 on this fresh October evening had been 
 lighted, crackled and sparkled on the large 
 hearth of rose-coloured granite, making, 
 by the flickering of its flames, a great 
 brightness play upon the ceiling. The 
 Marquise told herself that perhaps the 
 tidings brought from Paris by the Baron 
 were better than those given by Bachelin 
 the same day. And she again began to 
 hope. Already, above the salon on the 
 upper story, the steps, light and rapid, of 
 the young people were heard perambulating 
 the apartments. The old dwelling was 
 filled by an unaccustomed movement. And 
 the trills left behind her by the Baroness, 
 like a subtile trace, vibrated joyously in 
 the air. 
 
 At last the Marquise, rousing herself
 
 The Ironmaster. 203 
 
 from meditation, raised her eyes, and, 
 seeing the Baron standing before her, 
 awaiting her commands, glanced at him 
 with a melancholy smile. 
 
 "Well! my nephew," said she, "you 
 have some confidences to make to me ? I 
 fear that I am partly acquainted with the 
 subject in question, and you see me much 
 afflicted by it ..." 
 
 " It is a sad affair, in fact, my aunt," 
 answered sympathetically the young man, 
 " and the consideration which our world 
 enjoys will not be increased by it. Alas ! 
 When one of our order fails in his duty, 
 the fault committed by him falls upon all 
 his peers. We have no more than one 
 sole superiority over the other classes of 
 society: it is fidelity to the thing sworn. 
 It is still said, as a kind of proverb : ' On 
 the word of a nobleman.' Ere long, 
 when it is seen that like people of no
 
 204 The Ironmaster. 
 
 distinction, we cease to keep our promises, 
 they will no longer recognise in us even 
 the sovereign reverence for a pledged 
 faith. And we shall have lost our last 
 best reputation." 
 
 A tear glittered in the eyes of the 
 Marquise, and, raising her hands, thin and 
 delicate, to the Baron : 
 
 " Tell me all, hide nothing from me : I 
 know already, thanks to the activity of 
 my good Bachelin, that the Due de 
 Bligny has been in Paris for the last six 
 weeks." 
 
 " Ah ! indeed, Marquise, you know all 
 that ! " said the Baron bitterly, " and do 
 you also know that he is occupied there in 
 getting himself married ? " 
 
 "In getting himself married!" cried 
 Madame de Beaulieu with stupefaction, 
 starting up in her easy-chair, her face 
 blanching under her white hair.
 
 The Ironmaster. 205 
 
 " Yes, my dear aunt. Pardon the 
 abruptness of my communication, but, in 
 such matters, I think it is always better 
 to go straight to the mark." 
 
 " In getting himself married ! " slowly 
 repeated the Marquise. 
 
 " The Duke has made every effort that 
 the news should not be divulged. But the 
 future father-in-law, who is, it appears, a 
 Bourgeois, and one of the most vulgar, is 
 less discreet ! He exults, the good man ! 
 His daughter, think of it then, his 
 daughter, a Duchess ! The history was 
 related to me by Casteran, an intimate 
 friend of Bligny, who knows how the 
 negotiation was begun. And I regret to 
 be obliged to acknowledge to you, my 
 aunt, that there can be nothing more 
 lamentable. Picture to yourself that the 
 Duke, hardly arrived from St. Petersburg, 
 became engaged in the high play that has
 
 206 The Ironmaster. 
 
 for some time been pursued at the Club. 
 Roughly treated by fortune, he was soon 
 at the end of his resources, which were 
 slender. He had recourse to the coffers 
 of the Club, to find funds with which to 
 face his engagements. He continued to 
 play so recklessly that his losses amounted 
 to two hundred and fifty thousand francs. 
 It seemed that he had completely lost his 
 head. Maddened by ill-luck he threw 
 himself blindly into the melee. In two 
 evenings, he recovered all that he had 
 lost, then lost again a hundred thousand 
 francs. And at last was left with a 
 definitive culotte of two hundred thousand 
 francs." 
 
 The Marquise gazed at her nephew, and 
 in an interrogative tone : 
 
 " A culotte ? " repeated she. 
 
 " Excuse me, my aunt," said the Baron 
 with phlegm, " it is the understood term.
 
 The Ironmaster. 207 
 
 To express a heavy loss at play, we say a 
 culotte" 
 
 " A culotte of two hundred thousand 
 francs," said the Marquise, with a 
 melancholy smile, "it is a dear cloth ! " 
 
 " The rather that G-aston had not one 
 sou with which to pay for it. And at the 
 Clubs that kind of debt must be discharged 
 within twenty-four hours under the penalty 
 of being posted and expelled. The situa- 
 tion of the Duke was then very critical. 
 Mon Dieu! He might have applied to 
 the family. Although all our fortune is 
 real estate, the Baroness and myself could 
 have readily found for him a part of the 
 sum, and he would have been able to 
 make arrangements for the remainder. 
 Graston did not think of applying to us, 
 or rather, he did not wish it. CasteYan 
 counselled him to do so, however. The 
 unhappy fellow shut himself in hia room
 
 208 The Ironmaster. 
 
 at the Club, absorbed in painful reflections. 
 He fully understood that he had seriously 
 damaged his worldly position, and that he 
 had compromised his future. It was then 
 that Providence intervened, under the 
 form of the future father-in-law, whom 
 Gaston, they tell me, had never met more 
 than once. He entered resolutely into the 
 affair and held to Bligny language some- 
 thing like this : ' Monsieur le Due, you 
 owe two hundred thousand francs; you 
 must procure them in the course of the 
 day, and you will not be able to procure 
 them ! ' And as the Duke rose quickly 
 to cut short such an interview with a 
 stranger, the old man adroitly stopped him 
 by letting fall these words : * Those two 
 hundred thousand francs, I bring you. 
 My fortune is enormous, and I will not 
 have it said that a man like myself, who 
 gives ten millions of dowry to his only
 
 The Ironmaster. 209 
 
 daughter, has allowed for a miserable 
 ten thousand louis the name of one 
 of the noblest families of his country 
 to be compromised ! ' It is amazing, 
 my Aunt, is not it ? You can under- 
 stand that I do not guarantee the 
 rigorous accuracy of the words. Casteran 
 has a very sharp tongue, and he may 
 easily have embellished a little. But 
 it is thus that he related to me the 
 adventure. The wretched Gaston was 
 dazzled. It seemed to him that he was in 
 the presence of a man made of gold. And 
 Dame, the coffer of his unexpected bene- 
 factor being open, he put in his little 
 finger. The hand followed, and, as when 
 caught by machinery, all passed in, title 
 also. This is how the Duke is getting 
 himself married." 
 
 There was a moment of silence. Even- 
 ing had altogether come. It was difficult 
 
 VOL. i. p
 
 210 The Ironmaster. 
 
 in the gloom for the Baron to perceive the 
 proudly-raised head of the Marquise. 
 The tic-tac in regular cadence of the old 
 timepiece of Louis XIV. was the only 
 sound heard. Suddenly the young man 
 saw a white cloud pass before the face of 
 his aunt, and heard a sob badly dissembled. 
 Understanding that she was weeping, he 
 quickly took several steps towards 
 Madame de Beaulieu, and kneeling at her 
 feet upon a tapestry-covered stool he 
 tenderly pressed her hand, not finding 
 words to console that grief which was 
 stronger than her pride. 
 
 " It is nothing,'* said the Marquise 
 gently, " I could not subdue my grief, I 
 own it, and I was so cruelly struck that I 
 could not restrain my tears. I have loved 
 Gaston so much ! He has been a second 
 son to me. He is of my race, and all 
 the evil that he has done wounds me
 
 The Ironmaster. 211 
 
 doubly. I can understand nothing of 
 such ingratitude on his part, for he was a 
 generous boy with a loyal soul. How 
 could he change so speedily? Has the 
 world the power of undoing, in a few 
 months, the work of so many years ? I 
 reared him so carefully, so tenderly! And 
 this is how he recompenses me ! Ah ! the 
 in grate ! the ingrate 1 " 
 
 While she was speaking, the Baron, 
 deeply moved, mechanically seized 
 from the table the ivory hook with 
 which the Marquise fabricated hoods 
 for the little children of the Poor. 
 And, with an irritated hand, he 
 pierced vindictively a large ball of gray 
 wool. 
 
 However the Marquise soon recovered 
 her self-possession, and brushing away her 
 last tears : 
 
 "It is important," said she with firm- 
 p 2
 
 212 The Ironmaster. 
 
 ness, " that we act with great caution 
 with regard to Claire. You know her. 
 She is proud, self-willed . . . Her 
 father was the same, a heart of gold, but 
 a head of iron. In the height of her 
 security she is about to be struck. She 
 was speaking to me of Gaston this morn- 
 ing. The idea that he could dream of 
 another woman has not for an instant 
 occurred to her. She places the silence, 
 the delays of the Duke, to the necessities 
 of his situation. Her mind has never been 
 grazed by doubt. Loyal and frank, she 
 only expects from others loyalty and 
 frankness. In a soul like hers a desillu- 
 sion of this kind may cause a very grave 
 trouble." 
 
 "But, my dear Aunt, do you not 
 think that advances made to de Bligny 
 would modify the situation ? Gaston has 
 been led away . . . In making him
 
 The Ironmaster. 213 
 
 measure the extent of the fault that 
 he is about to commit, it will perhaps 
 be possible to bring him back ! And 
 if you consent to it, I shall be en- 
 tirely at your disposition for that 
 endeavour." 
 
 " No," exclaimed the Marquise, with 
 great haughtiness. " We are not of those 
 who humiliate themselves and who im- 
 plore. Our position, however sad it may 
 be, is blameless and dignified. It would 
 not please me to change it. I shall wait, 
 to tell my daughter the sorrowful truth, 
 that the engagement of my nephew with 
 his new fiancee, is irrevocable. For," 
 added Madame de Beaulieu, smiling 
 bitterly, " with a man as capricious as the 
 Due de Bligny, one can answer for 
 nothing, and perhaps he will again 
 change. . . ." 
 
 " As you please," replied the Baron ;
 
 214 The Ironmaster. 
 
 " I cannot blame you for acting as you do. 
 To tell the truth, I expected to hear you 
 speak thus . . . But I considered it 
 a duty to propose to you a reconciliation 
 . . . Let what may happen now, you 
 have right on your side ! And if there is 
 occasion to shed a few tears in secret, at 
 least you will not have occasion to feel 
 humiliated. I do not say the same of 
 Bligny." .. .-,.<.. \ , . -, ,, 
 
 A sound of rapid steps was heard on 
 the grand stone staircase, accompanied by 
 a joyous murmur of voices. Free from 
 care, and laughing, Octave and Claire 
 descended with the Baroness, excited to 
 high spirits by the restless and frolicsome 
 young woman. 
 
 The door of the salon opened, and, like 
 an avalanche, Madame de Prefont, pre- 
 ceding her cousins, entered the solemn 
 and gloomy room.
 
 The Ironmaster. 215 
 
 " Ah ! Mon Dieu ! You are without 
 lights ! It is dismal ! " cried the 
 Baroness. " You look as if you were 
 conversing in the depth of a tomb. It is 
 so black that one cannot hear oneself 
 speak ! My aunt, you have 
 
 spoiled us ... We have, the Baron 
 and myself, the most beautiful apartment 
 in the Chateau . . . You know 
 that we shall find ourselves so comfort- 
 able that we shall no longer wish to 
 leave. . . ." 
 
 " So much the better, my dear child ! 
 But I think that you ought to have gained 
 an appetite on the railway . . . We 
 are going to dine." 
 
 At the same moment, and as if the 
 words of Madame de Beaulieu had been 
 awaited, the folding doors of the salle a 
 manger were thrown open, a flood of light 
 gleamed upon the side-boards, laden with
 
 216 The Ironmaster. 
 
 old china and with massive silver plate, 
 whilst, with a voice grave and digni- 
 fied, the maitre d' hotel let fall these 
 words : 
 
 " Madame la Marquise est servie."
 
 The Ironmaster. 217 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 morrow of the day on which M. 
 and Madame de Prefont had arrived 
 at Beaulieu, and just in time to cast a 
 little interest into the existence of the 
 Baroness, who had already begun to find 
 her sojourn in the country slightly weari- 
 some, M. Derblay, accompanied by his 
 sister, presented himself at the Chateau. 
 
 Seated under a large tent of red and 
 gray striped canvas, the inhabitants of 
 Beaulieu were enjoying the beauty of one 
 of those lovely days of October, the last 
 smiles of the year soon to become sad and 
 icy. The birds, deceived by the warmth 
 of the sun, were again singing in the 
 clumps of trees in the park, as in summer.
 
 218 The Ironmaster. 
 
 And upon the bright gravel of the terrace, 
 two blackbirds with yellow bills were 
 whistling, and at times disputing over 
 some crumbs of bread that the Marquis 
 had thrown from the window of the 
 salle a manger. The Marquise, enveloped 
 in her shawls, lulled by the sweet air, 
 heard, with an unconscious ear, Claire and 
 the Baroness exchanging confidences, 
 leaning their arms on the parapet of rose- 
 tinted granite. The Baron, gravely lying 
 back in a rocking-chair, puffed towards 
 the blue sky, with a calculated slowness, 
 the curls of smoke from his cigar. The 
 Marquis was carefully sketching, upon a 
 page of his note-book, the profiles of the 
 two young women, standing out elegant 
 and graceful against the clear back-ground 
 of the horizon. A profound calm en- 
 vironed this sunny corner, and little by 
 little a lassitude delicious, invincible, took
 
 The Ironmaster. 219 
 
 possession of them all, enfeebling the body 
 and benumbing the mind. 
 
 The step of a servant sounding on the 
 gravel walk aroused them from that physi- 
 cal and moral somnolence. The Marquise 
 opened her eyes : Claire and the Baroness 
 turned, ceasing to gaze vaguely over the 
 valley ; the Marquis precipitately concealed 
 his note-book in his pocket. The Baron 
 only, sparing of unnecessary movements, 
 confined himself to slightly inclining his 
 head. 
 
 " M. and Mademoiselle Derblay inquire 
 if Madame la Marquise receives," said the 
 footman . . . 
 
 At these words, Claire imperceptibly 
 bent her proud brows. The name of the 
 man by whom she instinctively felt herself 
 pursued pronounced there, in her own 
 home, displeased her. She had, as it were, 
 a presentiment that this stranger would
 
 220 The Ironmaster. 
 
 have an influence over her life, and in 
 advance she was full of revolt. 
 
 A sudden bitterness troubled her heart. 
 The confused idea of having been forsaken 
 had, however, already entered her soul. 
 And she asked herself how M. Derblay, 
 after his passionate demonstrations, timid 
 as they were, could dare to present himself 
 at the Chateau. 
 
 Bachelin, it is true, had announced his 
 visit. It was a kind of reconciliation upon 
 the ground of affairs. But the question of 
 affairs might be only a pretext. This man 
 was he so bold, seeing her momentarily 
 abandoned by the Duke, as to conceive 
 the thought of approaching her ? All 
 these reflections, still very obscure, passed 
 in a second through her mind, and were 
 the starting-point of her aversion to 
 Philippe. 
 
 " Receive him, my Aunt, receive him,"
 
 The Ironmaster. 221 
 
 cried the Baroness. " I am so curious to 
 see him, this Ironmaster ! He will amuse 
 us, and we will make his sister gossip upon 
 all that is passing in the village. Perhaps 
 she" wears the costume of the country. 
 Oh ! how delightful it will be !" 
 
 "But, my dear child, I ask no better than 
 to receive them," replied the Marquise 
 smiling . . . 
 
 And turning towards the servant, who 
 waited motionless : 
 
 " Beg M. and Mademoiselle Derblay to 
 be so good as to come here." 
 
 There was an instant of silence, then 
 the large glass door of the salon opened, 
 and Philippe, accompanied by Suzanne, 
 appeared upon the perron. A ray of sun- 
 light gilded his brown and manly face. 
 He showed himself in his full vigour, tran- 
 quil and severe. Buttoned up in a long 
 black frock-coat, he seemed taller than he
 
 222 The Ironmaster. 
 
 was in reality. His sister, clad in a very 
 simple gown of dark blue cloth, pressed 
 timidly against him, her face animated by 
 emotion, uneasy and yet resolute, fixing 
 upon her brother her large eyes, as if to 
 give herself courage. 
 
 The Marquise rose to meet her visitors. 
 
 Philippe, very respectfully, bowed before 
 her, stammering a few interrupted words, 
 the confusion of which brought a smile to 
 the lips of the great lady. Then, as if to 
 cut short the embarrassment of the young 
 man, taking the hand of Suzanne with 
 charming grace : 
 
 " Tell your brother, my child," said 
 Madame de Beaulieu, "that he is wel- 
 
 come." 
 
 Philippe raised his head, and, with an 
 accent of deep gratitude : 
 
 " I do not know how to thank you, 
 Madame la Marquise," said he, " for the
 
 The Ironmaster. 223 
 
 kind reception that you have given to my 
 sister. She is a child who has grown 
 up with me, without the care of a 
 mother. 'She requires training and 
 good counsel. She could not find 
 better than from you, if you would do her 
 the kindness to interest yourself in her." 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu looked more 
 attentively at Suzanne, and was touched 
 by the innocent and tender expression of 
 the young girl. 
 
 " Come, that I may embrace you, my 
 dear child." 
 
 And, touching lightly with her lips the 
 fair hair of Suzanne : 
 
 " Here is peace signed upon the fore- 
 head of this child," added the Marquise, 
 turning to Philippe. " All your sins are 
 forgiven you, my neighbour. Now, come, 
 that I may make you acquainted with my 
 family. ..."
 
 224 The Ironmaster. 
 
 And, designating with her hand Octave, 
 who was advancing towards them : 
 
 " The Marquis de Beaulieu, my son," 
 said she. 
 
 " The introduction is needless, my 
 mother," said Octave with frankness, 
 extending his hand to Philippe. " M. 
 Derblay and myself have already met. 
 Diable ! dear neighbour, you have good 
 legs, and your hares, that I miss so easily, 
 run no faster than yourself, when you do 
 not wish one to overtake you." 
 
 " Pardon me, Monsieur le Marquis," 
 answered Philippe smiling, " that I did 
 not tell you my name . . . You were not 
 animated by very sympathetic sentiments 
 upon my account, and I was afraid of not 
 being well received by you if I betrayed 
 my incognito." 
 
 " Eh ! parbleu ! I was only acquainted 
 with you through the difficulties that we
 
 The Ironmaster. 225 
 
 have had together. Now it is another 
 thing, and I hope that we shall be good 
 friends . . . But do me the favour, I 
 beg you, to present me to Mademoiselle 
 Derblay." 
 
 The charm of Suzanne was working. 
 Eager, attentive, Octave drew near the 
 young girl. Madame de Beaulieu, then 
 turning from the side of Philippe, and 
 naming him to the Baroness and to 
 Claire : 
 
 " M. Derblay, the Ironmaster of Pont- 
 Avesnes . . . ' Then, pointing to the 
 two young women : " The Baronne de 
 Prefont, my niece, and Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu, my daughter." 
 
 A burning colour rushed to the face of 
 Philippe, and, without daring to fix his 
 eyes upon her whom he adored, he bowed 
 profoundly. 
 
 " But, ma chere, he is a gentleman ! " 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 The Ironmaster. 
 
 whispered the Baroness in the ear of 
 Claire. " I who had pictured him with 
 bare arms, a leather apron over his knees, 
 and filings in his hair ! . . . God forgive 
 me, he is decorated ! And the Baron is 
 not ! It is true that under this regime, 
 we suffer ! In fine, it is very extra- 
 ordinary ! He does not, then, handle the 
 hammer ? Look at him ... It is in- 
 credible . . . He is very good-looking . . . 
 He has superb eyes ! " 
 
 Claire, who hitherto had turned away, 
 gazed almost severely at Philippe. She 
 was a prey to a dull anger. She wished 
 to find wounding words and offensive 
 glances to cast at this audacious man. 
 The vigorous breadth of his shoulders 
 she thought vulgar. Everything about 
 him displeased her, to his sombre and 
 severe style of dress, which gave him a 
 .dignified and serious air. At the same
 
 The Ironmaster. 227 
 
 time, as in a rapid vision, the face of the 
 Duke passed before her eyes. She saw 
 clearly the elegant and rather slender 
 figure of Gaston, with his oval face, his 
 chestnut hair, his blue eyes, and his 
 sensitive mouth, on each side of which 
 drooped a long, blonde moustache. Be- 
 tween Philippe present and the phantom 
 of the Duke the contrast was complete. 
 The one represented in his robust person 
 ,the sound solidity of the Bourgeoisie ; the 
 other was the finished type of the deli- 
 cate and slightly enfeebled grace of the 
 Nobility. 
 
 Under the gaze of the young girl, 
 Philippe remained speechless. His feet 
 seemed to have taken root in the ground. 
 Profoundly troubled, he tried to escape 
 from the hostile examination of those 
 eyes. He wished to take two steps towards 
 the Marquis, who was conversing with 
 Q 2
 
 228 The Ironmaster. 
 
 Suzanne, so as to attach himself to some 
 one who was good-natured ; but could 
 not do it. He cast a mechanical glance 
 over his figure, and saw himself heavy, 
 common, and inelegant. With a dull 
 bitterness, he compared himself with the 
 two young men who were walking before 
 him in the free and simple grace of their 
 well-fitting clothes, and his black cloth 
 frock-coat, of a provincial cut, appeared 
 to him hideous. He thought himself gro- 
 tesque, with his high hat, and he suffered 
 horribly. 
 
 Philippe, at this moment, would have 
 given ten years of his life to be clothed 
 like the Baron and Octave, and to have 
 their easy air. He told himself that never 
 could Claire forget the aspect under which 
 he had presented himself to her for the 
 first time, and that for ever there would 
 remain in the mind of the young girl
 
 The Irowmasfer. 229 
 
 a recollection unfavourable to him. He 
 measured clearly the distance that existed 
 between Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, even 
 without fortune, and the Ironmaster of 
 Pont-Avesnes. And, with deep despair, 
 he reproached himself for having been so 
 mad as to raise his eyes higher than his 
 ambition could ever hope to attain. 
 
 The voice of Octave drew him from his 
 abstraction. 
 
 " My dear Monsieur Derblay, we have 
 here some one who, upon the subject of 
 the useful arts, will be able to hold his 
 own with you," said the Marquis ; " it is 
 my cousin, M. le Baron de Prefont, a 
 savant ..." 
 
 " Say a scholar, my dear Octave," 
 interrupted the Baron with mildness . . . 
 " The field of science is so vast that I 
 have but one pretension, which is that of 
 having explored only a small part ..."
 
 230 The Ironmaster. 
 
 Philippe, returning to himself, sought 
 with his eyes Mademoiselle de Beaulieu. 
 Graceful and stately, she had gone to a 
 little distance, and was walking along the 
 Terrace at the side of the Baroness. 
 With the end of her red silk sunshade, 
 she was touching absently the flowers of a 
 climbing rose-tree, which had entwined 
 its branches about the stone parapet. 
 
 The Ironmaster sighed, and, turning 
 from this charming spectacle : 
 
 " It is not the first time," said he, 
 " that I have heard the name of M. de 
 Prefont." 
 
 And, as the Baron made a gesture of 
 polite protest : 
 
 " Is not Monsieur the author of a 
 very important work upon Cementation ? 
 I am myself much occupied by that 
 material question, and I have read with 
 the most lively interest the treatise
 
 The Ironmaster. 231 
 
 that you addressed to the Academie des 
 Sciences." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! Baron," gaily cried Octave, 
 " you did not expect to be so well known 
 in our mountains ? . . . See ! you are on 
 the road to celebrity, my friend ; your 
 name has penetrated to the depths of the 
 country, and to your old motto : Fortis 
 gladio, you must add : et pennd. And do 
 not think that I am laughing at you . . . 
 I would imitate you if I were capable of 
 doing it. . . . " 
 
 But the Baron noticed very little what 
 the Marquis was saying ! Ravished to 
 meet with an auditor able to understand 
 him, he had launched himself into a disser- 
 tation very learned upon the method of 
 casting steel. And the intervention of 
 the Baroness herself would not have 
 turned him from his subject. His English 
 stiffness had given place to an effusive
 
 232 The. Ironmaster. 
 
 abandonment. He clapped his hands, 
 while imitating the noise of machinery, 
 to illustrate his demonstration. And, 
 animated, gesticulating, he took M. 
 Derblay by the arm, as if to be quite 
 certain that the latter would not escape 
 him. 
 
 But Philippe had no desire to avoid the 
 increasing familiarity of his interlocutor. 
 Rather the contrary, he encouraged it, 
 happy to find an unexpected ally in that 
 house where he felt himself so ill at ease. 
 And the Baron went on, enchanted, 
 talking exuberantly, and already calling 
 Philippe : " Mon cher Monsieur," which 
 he would not certainly have done to any 
 other, at the end of three months of 
 <X)ntinued acquaintance. But, in an 
 Instant, their scientific proclivities in 
 -common had drawn them together and 
 united them, like two Freemasons who
 
 The Ironmaster. 233 
 
 have exchanged mysterious signs in 
 shaking hands. 
 
 '* And you extract the ore yourself ? 
 How interesting must be your mining ! " 
 said the Baron. " I will go down to 
 Pont - Avesnes to-morrow morning, so 
 that you can let me inspect your foundry. 
 You must employ a great many people ? " 
 
 " Two thousand workmen." 
 
 "It is admirable ! And how many 
 smelting furnaces ? " 
 
 "Ten, whose fires are never extin- 
 guished from the end of one year to that of 
 another. You shall see my steam-hammer. 
 It weighs eighty thousand pounds, and 
 works with such precision that you can 
 make it descend upon an egg, and touch 
 it, without breaking the shell." 
 
 "But with the like instrument you 
 might enter into competition with Creuzot 
 himself?"
 
 234 The Ironmaster. 
 
 " Exactly so ; and we do in a small way, 
 as he does on an immense scale." 
 
 " Mon cher Monsieur, it is a happy 
 chance for me to have met with you,'* 
 cried the Baron joyously. " I intended 
 to start at the end of the week with the 
 Baroness, to go to Switzerland, but au 
 diable le voyage / . . . I remain here, 
 you understand ? . . . We will make ex- 
 periments . . . Have you a laboratory ? 
 . . . Yes ! You are a chemist ? Perfect ! 
 You are one of the most agreeable men 
 that I have ever met." 
 
 And, taking, the arm of Philippe, the 
 Baron began to walk up and down the 
 Terrace. 
 
 "Ah! But what ails my husband?" 
 said the Baroness, drawing near with 
 Claire. 
 
 "It is, my dear Cousin," answered 
 Octave gaily, " that he has mounted upon
 
 Tfie Ironmaster. 235 
 
 his favourite hobby, taking M. Derblay en 
 croupe" 
 
 " Well ! they will go too far like that, 
 if we do not stop the Baron." 
 
 "And why should we stop him?" 
 asked the Marquis. . " Do you dislike 
 this confraternity of M. Derblay and de 
 Prefont ? Your husband, my dear friend, 
 the descendant of valiant Knights, repre- 
 sents in himself ten centuries of martial 
 grandeur. M. Derblay, the son of a 
 manufacturer, represents one unique cen- 
 tury, that which has produced Steam, 
 Gas, and Electricity. And I own to you 
 that, for my part, I greatly admire the 
 sudden good understanding between these 
 two men who blend, in an intimacy 
 born of mutual esteem, that which makes 
 a country grand above all : the glory 
 of the past and the progress of the 
 present."
 
 236 The, Ironmaster. 
 
 " Octave, my friend," said the Barone*ss, 
 " one can see that you are an advocate : 
 you speak so well. But for the son of 
 your father, allow me to tell you that I 
 find you rather democratic ! " 
 
 " Well ! Cousin," replied the young 
 man laughing, " Democracy has invaded 
 us. Let us endeavour to erect an aris- 
 tocracy on democracy itself. To arrive 
 at it, let us take mediocrity as our level, 
 and above it, let us place all who have 
 merit. We shall found, in this manner, 
 the aristocracy of talent, the only one 
 worthy to succeed the aristocracy of birth. 
 Besides, in acting thus, we shall be merely 
 imitating our ancestors. You imagine 
 that the founders of our houses were born 
 noble ? It was their courage which was 
 the cause of their elevation above other 
 men. The first de Prefont was called 
 quite plainly Gaucher, which, without
 
 The Ironmaster. 237 
 
 doubt, did not prevent him from being 
 clever, for he passes for having been a 
 brave soldier. Ennobled by his feats of 
 arms, and enriched by his booty, he took 
 the name of his estate, on returning from 
 Palestine. And it is by favour of Captain 
 Gaudier, ma chere, that you are a 
 Baroness. Why, then, should we deny 
 to-day to men who are worth, perhaps, 
 as much as your ancestor, the right of 
 emerging from the multitude ? Formerly 
 they said : ' Honour to the bravest ' ; now 
 let us say : * Place to the most intelli- 
 gent ! ' " 
 
 " Well thought and well spoken, M. le 
 Marquis, and I pray Madame la Baronne 
 to pardon me if I pronounce against her," 
 said a sonorous voice from behind a clump 
 of shrubs. 
 
 And Bachelin, very red, his hat in his 
 hand, his portfolio stuffed with papers,
 
 238 The Ironmaster. 
 
 and under his arm as usual, appeared at 
 the corner of the Terrace. 
 
 " Ah ! Bachelin, you arrive at the right 
 moment," cried the Baroness gaily. " Ah ! 
 You all agree, you limbs of the law; you 
 are all for the Ticrs-Etat. It is for your 
 benefit that they have made the Kevolu- 
 tion. But you appear like a demon 
 issuing from a trap-door ! . . . By which 
 way did you come ? " 
 
 " I crossed the park, on my road from 
 La Varenne, and I have left my cabriolet 
 at the postern gate . . . But, pardon ..." 
 
 And, turning towards Madame de Beau- 
 lieu, who was advancing with Suzanne : 
 
 " Madame la Marquise . . . All my 
 respects . . . Mademoiselle Suzanne, my 
 compliments . . . The heat is extraor- 
 dinary to-day ... I came in haste . . . 
 I wished to be here at the same time as 
 M. Derblay . . . But the signature of a
 
 The Ironmaster. 239 
 
 very important deed detained me ... A 
 deed which has caused me many regrets, 
 Madame la Marquise. It related to the 
 sale of La Varenne." 
 
 "Ah! The d'Estrelles have at last 
 found a purchaser ? " interrogated the 
 Marquis. 
 
 " YeSj a purchaser," sighed Bachelin, 
 " and who has paid a fabulous price, I can 
 assure you. But he was especially anxious 
 to possess that estate . . . And he has 
 given for it at least a third more than 
 they would have been able to find, even 
 by subdividing it. He is a large manu- 
 facturer from Paris. He tells me that he 
 has the honour of being acquainted with 
 the family of Madame la Marquise. It is 
 without doubt the reason that made him 
 
 JB 
 
 so earnestly desire the neighbourhood of 
 Beaulieu." 
 
 "And can we know the name of this
 
 240 The Ironmaster. 
 
 gentleman ? " asked the Marquise with 
 indifference. 
 
 " His name is M. Moulinet," replied the 
 Notary tranquilly. 
 
 Bachelin did not, certainly, suspect the 
 effect that he was about to produce by 
 pronouncing the name of the purchaser of 
 La Varenne. Mademoiselle de Beaulieu 
 rose abruptly, while the Baroness, striking 
 her hands sharply together, cried : 
 
 " The father of Athenais ! " 
 
 " M. Moulinet, in fact, had with him a 
 young lady whom he called Athe*nais," 
 added the Notary. " The estate has been 
 bought for her, so as to figure amongst 
 her possessions on the day of her mar- 
 riage. It is an income of thirty thousand 
 pounds, and the rents are capable of being 
 raised." 
 
 " Ah ! it is too much ! Here they will 
 be your neighbours ! " exclaimed the
 
 The Ironmaster. 241 
 
 Baroness. " And M. Moulinet is going 
 to play the lord of the manor ! The 
 poor man ! He will look like his own 
 gardener ! " 
 
 " He is very rich ? " interrogated 
 Bachelin. 
 
 " Excessively rich, " replied the 
 Baroness; "ridiculously rich." 
 
 " Well ! Octave, it is to this your 
 theories lead, mon clier. This is the 
 aristocracy of intelligence! M. Moulinet 
 is one of its most glorious representatives. 
 The d'Estrelles, who have given to France 
 ten Mestres de camp, two Admirals, a 
 Marshal, and many Ministers of State, 
 who have the portraits of their ancestors 
 at Versailles, and their name on all the 
 great pages of our history, are put out 
 of their Chateau by a manufacturer of 
 chocolate, who has never rendered a 
 service worth one centime to his country, 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 242 The Ironmaster. 
 
 and whose name figures only upon the 
 printed bills that he causes to be dis- 
 tributed at the corners of the streets. 
 This is your democracy, mon cher I Oh ! 
 Speak to me no more of a country where 
 such abominations can be committed. 
 . , . It is a lost country ! " 
 
 " Calm yourself, Baroness," said Octave, 
 "I think it deplorable, with you, that the 
 d'Estrelles are dispossessed of their 
 Chateau, but frankly, what can we do in 
 it ? Must we take from M. Moulinet his 
 money to enrich our friends ? That would 
 be rather arbitrary. And, unless his 
 'feet are scorched' into the bargain, I do 
 not see that worse could be done to him." 
 
 " Leave me in peace, you are insupport- 
 able," cried Madame de Pre*font. " See, 
 I think that you say all this in order to 
 tease me, and that you do not believe a 
 word of it."
 
 The Ironmaster. 243 
 
 And, taking the arm of the Marquise, 
 she went several steps to meet the Baron, 
 who was returning with Philippe. 
 
 Claire stayed behind, immovable and 
 pensive. The abrupt appearance of M, 
 Derblay and of Athenais Moulinet in her 
 life, hitherto so strictly guarded, troubled 
 her strangely. Brought up in the great 
 world, around which the rigid haughtiness 
 of its inhabitants has traced an insur- 
 mountable barrier, she witnessed, with 
 bitter stupefaction, this unexpected viola- 
 tion of her home-life. From the moment 
 that M. Derblay entered Beaulieu so 
 easily, and was, at first sight, placed upon 
 a footing of equality, it seemed to her that 
 the ancient house had become as common 
 as the street. She resolved to take action 
 against the rather vulgar warmth with 
 which the guests at the Chateau lavished 
 their attentions upon the strangers. And 
 R 2
 
 244 The Ironmaster. 
 
 seeing them all so smiling and so affable, 
 she became severe and frozen. 
 
 Nevertheless, she divined in that which 
 was passing around her something un- 
 explained and menacing. The prolonged 
 silence of the Duke disquieted her more 
 than she would own. And the constrained 
 attitude of those who surrounded her, a 
 few shreds of phrases that she had caught 
 on their flight, certain sudden silences when 
 she approached unawares, an increased 
 tenderness on the part of her relatives, had 
 aroused her suspicions. She suffered 
 much. To that proud and frank nature 
 uncertainty was insupportable. It was 
 her character to go straight at an obstacle 
 and to attack it in front. On this occasion 
 she did not dare. Her affection rendered 
 her timid. She was afraid of learning 
 that the Duke had betrayed her. 
 And, ashamed for him whom she loved,
 
 The Ironmaster. 245 
 
 fearing to be obliged to prove his 
 worthlessness, she abstained from asking 
 questions and preserved a sorrowful 
 silence. 
 
 Philippe saw her impassible and 
 haughty, receiving his timid homage with 
 hardly concealed disdain, and paying just 
 enough attention to him to show that 
 his presence displeased her. Suzanne, 
 abashed, having vainly tried by a few 
 gentle words to unbend the contracted 
 mouth of Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, had 
 taken refuge with Bachelin, who protected 
 her with paternal affection. 
 
 The courteous attentions of the Marquis, 
 visibly attracted by the simple grace or 
 the young girl, found Suzanne sad and 1 
 discouraged. The illusions that the dear 
 child had cherished fell in an instant. 
 She saw the happiness of her brother 
 gravely compromised. Her precocious
 
 246 The Ironmaster. 
 
 good sense led her to measure the extent 
 of the distance separating Philippe from 
 the haughty and imposing Claire. She 
 understood that only an unforeseen event, 
 could bring together these two beings 
 so dissimilar. However, she did not 
 despair. And ingenuously, with the 
 tenacious faith of children, she intrusted 
 to Providence the care of removing all 
 difficulties. 
 
 The Marquise, remembering the flatter- 
 ing confidences of Bachelin with regard to 
 Philippe, enchanted by the enthusiasm ot 
 the Baron, who was actually monopolizing 
 the Ironmaster, and, indeed, surprised 
 at having encountered at her door a man 
 such as M. Derblay, allowed herself to ask 
 him to dine at the Chateau. Confounded 
 by a look from her daughter, she reflected 
 seriously, and asked herself whether she
 
 The Ironmaster. 247 
 
 had not been a little precipitate in giving 
 the invitation. Upon consideration she 
 could reproach herself for nothing. She 
 only saw in the dissatisfaction of Claire 
 an excess of sudden unsociableness. 
 Besides, M. Derblay himself offered to the 
 Marquise a means of speedy pacification. 
 He declined with exquisite propriety, 
 excusing himself for not being able to 
 profit by the great favour that had been 
 shown him, and pleading the multiplicity 
 of urgent affairs. 
 
 In reality, he was in haste to leave. 
 The two hours that he had just passed 
 upon that Terrace, listening to the Baron 
 without understanding him, his temples 
 compressed as in a vice, his brain tor- 
 mented by his tumultuous thoughts, were 
 to him a cruel torture. He wished to 
 escape from it. That interview, so eagerly
 
 248 The Ironmaster. 
 
 sought, and from which he had promised 
 himself so much delight, was one of the 
 hardest moments of his life. And, dis- 
 couraged, cast down, ready to renounce 
 his ambitious projects, he took leave of 
 his hosts at the Chateau. 
 
 Claire did not appear to attach more 
 importance to his departure than to his 
 arrival. She remained disdainful and 
 mute, responding to his respectful saluta- 
 tion by a slight movement of the head. 
 Precisely what she would have accorded 
 to a tradesman. 
 
 The retreat of Philippe would have 
 singularly resembled a rout, if the allies 
 already made by him at the Chateau had 
 not given to him a serviceable support. 
 The Baron showed, on that occasion, how 
 far a mania can change the character. 
 That man, so full of reserve, accompanied
 
 The Ironmaster. 249 
 
 M. Derblay to the iron gate, and shook 
 his hand, on leaving him, with the vigour, 
 with the cordiality, of a companion " du 
 tour de France." * The Marquis himself 
 followed Suzanne, evincing the interest 
 that he took in the sister, by the civilities 
 that he showered upon the brother. 
 Bachelin, his irremovable portfolio under 
 his arm, closed the procession. At the 
 little gate of the park, his cabriolet, drawn 
 by an old grey horse, which was philo- 
 sophically snatching at the leaves of a 
 hazel-tree, awaited him. He helped 
 Philippe and Suzanne to mount into it, 
 while the Baron carried his courtesy so 
 far as to hold the cob by the bridle, 
 a precaution altogether superfluous ; and 
 while the Marquis was exchanging a last 
 
 * A journey made by artisans for the purpose of 
 working in different towns.
 
 250 The Ironmaster. 
 
 smile with the young girl, Bachelin passed 
 his whip over the back of his horse. The 
 cabriolet moved off, the Baron and the 
 Marquis calling, with touching unanimity: 
 
 " Au revoir I " 
 
 Philippe, with a trembling voice, re- 
 sponded by a : " Never ! " happily lost in 
 the jingling noise of chains which 
 accompanied the motion of the car- 
 riage. The notary turned to him 
 abruptly : 
 
 " Never ? " repeated he ; " Never ! Ah ! 
 my good friend, have you lost your 
 reason? Why will you never again 
 return to Beaulieu ? " 
 
 Philippe, at this question ceased to 
 restrain himself, and, opening his heart, 
 allowed to flow freely from it the bitter 
 flood of his lost illusions. To what pur- 
 pose persevere in an enterprise that was
 
 The Ironmaster. 251 
 
 inevitably destined, everything indicated 
 it,- to be miserably stranded ? He was 
 preparing for himself unmerited humilia- 
 tions and piercing chagrins. It would be 
 much better to renounce it immediately, 
 and sever the evil at the root before it 
 could extend itself. 
 
 " Well ! mon cher," interrupted Bachelin 
 with irony, "for what did you then 
 hope ? The violence of your regret leads 
 me to suppose that you entertained very 
 high pretensions. Did you think that 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu would begin to 
 make advances to you like a grisette to a 
 student ? In the world to which you have 
 just penetrated, my dear friend, sentiments 
 habitually reveal themselves by shades of 
 an extreme delicacy. There are neither 
 raptures violently expressed, nor antipathies 
 plainly declared. All is done with correct-
 
 252 The Ironmaster. 
 
 ness and ceremony. You have at the first 
 stroke obtained incredible results. The 
 men have become enthusiasts, the Marquis 
 is your friend, and the Baron will be your 
 colleague. The Marquise herself, carried 
 away by the general frenzy, invited you to 
 dine on the first day, as one does for a 
 friend of twenty years, and you complain ? 
 But you are unjust beyond all men ! To 
 tell the truth, Mademoiselle Claire received 
 you coldly. What a fine affair ! Did you 
 expect her to fall on your neck ? Ah ! 
 you go fast to work, you ! Yesterday you 
 dreamed of nothing more sweet than the 
 happiness of seeing her, of approaching 
 her during a few instants. You have just 
 passed two hours near her, and you are 
 ejaculating despairing interjections, you 
 are accusing the Heavens and the Earth ! 
 And you will no more reappear at the
 
 The Ironmaster. 253 
 
 house. You are mad ! In the first place, you 
 cannot refrain from returning to Beaulieu, 
 under pain of passing for a man very badly 
 bred. And then, will you be able to absent 
 yourself from that adorable Claire ? Ah ! 
 mon cher, you are very happy in loving ! 
 You are young, weep, suffer ; it is all that 
 there is of the best in this world. There 
 is absolutely nothing equal to it ; believe 
 one who is old, who, as a Notary, has 
 received many confidences during the last 
 forty years, and who himself, at the pre- 
 sent hour, only regrets one thing. . . . " 
 
 Bachelin, his face animated, his eyes 
 sparkling, was going without doubt to 
 let escape some confession valuable to 
 record, but his eyes fell upon Suzanne, 
 who, while attentively listening to him, 
 was stripping the petals from a beautiful 
 rose gathered by the Marquis upon the
 
 254 The Ironmaster. 
 
 Terrace at Beaulieu. The Notary stopped 
 abruptly, and, giving a vigorous blow of 
 the whip to his cob, which was trotting 
 along his head between his legs : 
 
 " Believe me, my dear friend, return to 
 the Chateau. Mademoiselle Claire will 
 shortly have some cruel trials to support, 
 and her attitude with regard to you will 
 be singularly modified by events. Ah ! 
 Already you have ceased to say : ' Never.* 
 That is an improvement ! To-morrow 
 you will say : ' Always.' But here we are 
 at Pont-Avesnes. I shall not enter with 
 you. I have some urgent work to give to 
 my clerks . . . Now go, a good appetite, 
 and see everything in rose-colour ! " 
 
 Bachelin, having given a last grasp of 
 the hand to Philippe, having gallantly 
 kissed the fingers of Suzanne, threaded 
 rapidly the principal street of the Market
 
 The Ironmaster. 255 
 
 Town, and soon disappeared at the angle 
 of the square. 
 
 Philippe sighed, opened the small door 
 of the court, and, with head bowed, followed 
 his sister, who, respecting his silent sad- 
 ness, re-entered the house that two hours 
 earlier he had quitted, his heart palpitating 
 with hope. 
 
 END OP VOLUME I. 
 
 WYHAJf A5D SOJfi, FEINTEBS, GBEAI QUEBH STBEET, LOKDOIf, MT.C.
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 Box 951388 
 
 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 
 
 NON-RENEWAPLE 
 
 MAR 4 2003 
 
 DUE 2 WKS FROM DATE RECEIVED 
 
 UCLA YRL/ILL 
 
 
 JFORN1A
 
 A 000 970 287 9 
 
 PQ 
 2378 
 
 038M2E 
 v.l