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VIZETELLY'S ONE VOLUME NOVELS, 
 
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 THE IRONMASTER; 
 
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 LOVE AND PEIDE. ' 
 
ViZETELLY'S ONE VOLUME NOVELS, 
 
 I. 
 
 THE IRONMASTER; 
 
 OR, 
 
 LOVE AND PRIDE. 
 
 By GEOEGES OHNET, 
 
 TRANSLATED FKOM THE 146th FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 TSIBD EDITION. 
 
 LONDON : 
 VIZETELLY&> CO., 42, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND. 
 
 1884. 
 
LONDOX 
 
 PRINTED BT J. S. VIETUE AND CO., LIMITED, 
 CITY KOAD. 
 
TEAlSrSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 A LiTER^VRY work wliicli in its double form of novel and 
 drama lias yielded its author nearly £12,000 in a couple of 
 years, is one to awaken both curiosity and interest. Such, has 
 been the pecuniary result of M. Georges Ohnet's ^'Le Maitre 
 do Forges," here presented to the English reader under the title 
 of '' The Ironmaster." A few years ago a young Frenchman, 
 unknown to fame, wrote a play, which he called ''Les Manages 
 d' Argent," or, as we might say in English, ^'Marrying for 
 Money." The manuscript was submitted in turn to several of 
 the more noted theatrical managers of Paris, and '' declined 
 with thanks" by one and all of them. After such a decided 
 rebuff many a young man, doubtful of his own talent, would 
 probably have abandoned literature for good; but M. Ohnet was 
 aware that fame was only to be achieved by dint of unflagging 
 energy and perseverance in this toilsome nineteenth century. 
 He took back the manuscript of '^ Marrying for Money," and 
 turned to a different form of literary labour. He wrote a 
 novel called '' Serge Panine," and not only succeeded in 
 getting it published, but in bringing it under the notice 
 of the French Academy, which, although often derided, is 
 none the less the foremost literary corporation in the world. 
 
 274545 
 
VI TRANSLATOR S PREFACE. 
 
 ''Serge Panine" was Mghly commended by such writers as 
 Emile Augier, Octave Feuillet, Jules Sandeau, Victorien 
 Sardou, and Alexandre Dumas //s, and guided by the appro- 
 bation of some of the most eminent of its members, the 
 Academy did not hesitate to award " Serge Panine " a 
 crown of honour. 
 
 This well-deserved distinction brought M. Georges Ohnet 
 into prominent notice. '' Serge Panine " was transferred to 
 the stage, and met with remarkable success at the Gjrmnase 
 Theatre in Paris. Thus encouraged, the young 'novelist and 
 playwright suddenly bethought himself of his earlier venture, 
 " Les Manages d' Argent." The play had been rejected in the 
 days when he was a nonentity, but now that he had become 
 some one, the very managers who had carelessly tossed 
 it aside unread would no doubt have gladly accepted it. How- 
 ever, M. Ohnet preferred to adopt the course he had followed in 
 the case of ''Serge Panine." He transformed "LesMariages 
 d' Argent" into a novel, which he called " Le Maitre de 
 Porges," and the enterprising manager of the Paris Figaro 
 eagerly secured the right of publishing it as a, feuilleton. 
 
 "Le Maitre de Porges " at once proved a success. The 
 circulation of the Ftfforo — the widest in France, if the halfpenny 
 journals are excepted — immediately increased, and its feuil- 
 leton, identical in jilot and dialogue with the contemptuously 
 rejected drama, became the talk of the town. Eeconverted into 
 a play, it was ultimately produced, like "Serge Panine," at the 
 Gymnase. The first performance proved a j)erfect triumph, 
 and, with M. Jacques Damala, the husband of Madame Sarah 
 Bernhardt, in the title-role, the piece is even yet drawing 
 crowded houses. To give some idea of its success, it may be 
 mentioned that as M. Ohnet was entitled to 12 per cent, on 
 the amount of each night's receipts, he derived £3,000 from 
 
vu 
 
 tlie first hundred performances alone. In England the play 
 has been adapted on two occasions — by Mr. Eobert Buchanan 
 under the title of ''Lady Clare," and more recently by Mr. 
 A. "VV. Pinero as ''The Ironmaster." 
 
 At the present date the receipts from "Le Maitre de Forges " 
 at the Gymnase have exceeded one million francs, while no 
 fewer than 146,000 copies of the work in its form as a novel 
 have already been sold in France, so that, even making due 
 allowance for M. Emile Zola's literary triumphs, this success is 
 altogether the most remarkable that has been achieved of recent 
 years in the domain of fiction across the Channel. " The 
 Ironmaster" is a story of admirably sustained interest, skil- 
 fully told in graceful yet forcible language. The strongly 
 marked characters develop themselves naturally, both in their 
 language and their actions. The book, moreover, unlike the 
 general run of French novels, conveys a sound moral. It 
 chastises the malice which is born of envy, and establishes 
 the folly of that selfish pride which blinds its possessor to 
 all consideration for the commoner clay of humanity. It 
 shows anew how needful it is that husbands and wives alike 
 should study each other's characters before marriage, and 
 it enforces in convincing language the oft-repeated lesson 
 that a woman should never trifle with the affection of the 
 man to whom she is mated for life. 
 
 London, Mmj, 1884. 
 
THE IRONMASTER; 
 
 OR, 
 
 LOVE AND PEIDE. 
 
 On a clear day of the month of October, 1880, a young man, 
 clad in an elegant shooting costume, was seated at the outskirts 
 of one of those pleasant oak-woods which deck with their re- 
 freshing shade the lower slopes of the Jura. A big brown 
 spaniel stretched on the heather a few paces off gazed atten- 
 tively at his master, as if anxious to ascertain whether they 
 would not soon be setting off again. But the sportsman did 
 not seem disposed to resume his ramble yet awhile. He had 
 leant his gun against a tree, thrown his empty game-bag on 
 to the bank of a ditch, and, with his back to the sun and his 
 chin resting on his hand, he let his eyes roam over the 
 admirable panorama displayed before him. 
 
 Across the road beside which he had halted, and fringing 
 a thick wood, there stretched a plantation of two years' 
 growth, with its scattered foliage rising amid ferns and yellow 
 grass. The wooded ground sloped gently down into the 
 valley, so as to allow, among the meadows, a view of the 
 large village of Pont-Avesnes, with the conical, slate-covered 
 steeple of its old church rising high above the red-roofed 
 
 B 
 
10 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 houses. On th.e right hand was the chateau, girt round with 
 a broad dried-up moat planted with fruit-trees. The Avesnes, 
 a narrow little streamlet ambitiously called a '' river " by the 
 people round about, sparkled like a silver ribbon between the 
 poUard willows with quivering foliage inclined upon its 
 banks. 
 
 The ironworks — with their tall chimneys emitting ruddy 
 smoke, swept away by the wind — stretched their blackened 
 walls farther on at the foot of the hill, the rocky basement of 
 which was pierced with large openings serving for the extrac- 
 tion of the ore. Above these excavations were rows of green 
 vines, yielding a flinty-flavoured, poor white wine, commonly 
 sold as Moselle. The pale blue sky was fuD. of sunshine ; a 
 transparent haze hung like a light veil over the heights; 
 peacef ulness pervaded the smiling scene ; and the atmosphere 
 was so pure that the dull thuds of the forge-hammers mounted 
 through space from the valley to the forest. 
 
 Lulled by the calmness that surrounded him, the young 
 sportsman remained motionless. By degrees the landscape 
 had ceased to attract his gaze. A feehng of intense content 
 had fallen over him, and he smilingly followed his thoughts, 
 which rambled through the distant past. The sun turning in 
 its course at last gilded the ruddy tree-tops, a heavy heat rose 
 from the heather, and the silence of the woods became more 
 profound. Suddenly, however, the sportsman was aroused 
 from his meditation, for a cold nose rubbed against his knees, 
 while two eyes, human-like in their expression, addressed to 
 him a mute prayer. 
 
 ''Ah, ah ! " said the young man to his dog, '' so you are 
 weary of this, my good old fellow? Come, don't be impatient. 
 We'U start off." 
 
 And rising with a sigh, he hung his game-bag at his side, 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. H 
 
 took up his gun, and, crossing tlie road, sprang over tlie little 
 ditch bordering the plantation. 
 
 The spaniel was already sniffing in the taU grass, and on 
 reaching a bramble he suddenly stopped short with raised paw 
 and bent neck, as motionless as if he had been changed to 
 stone. His tail wagged gently, while with his eyes he seemed 
 to call his master. The latter hastily made several steps for- 
 ward, and at the same moment a fine hare bounded from the 
 cover, showing his yellow hindquarters and speeding along like 
 a bullet. The young man raised his gun and fired precipitately, 
 but as the smoke cleared away he perceived with vexation, if 
 not with astonishment, that the hare was still scampering to- 
 wards the wood. 
 
 '^ Another miss!" he muttered, and turning towards the 
 spaniel, who was waiting resignedly, he added, '' What a pity, 
 eh? You pointed him out so cleverly." 
 
 At the same moment the report of a gun resounded among 
 the foliage a hundred yards or so from the young sportsman, 
 and after a minute's silence the noise of footsteps was heard 
 proceeding through the underbrush, the branches parted, and 
 a vigorous-looking fellow wearing a blue linen shooting 
 blouse, a pair of high boots, and an old hat, appeared at the 
 edge of the wood. In one hand he carried his gun, while 
 with the other he held by its hind paws the hare which the 
 spaniel had started. 
 
 ^'It would seem you have been more lucky than I," said 
 the young sportsman with a smile, as he approached the new- 
 comer. 
 
 " Ah ! so it was you who fired, monsieur?" rejoined the man 
 in the blouse. 
 
 " Yes, and clumsily, too, for the animal started up at my 
 feet and was only twenty paces off when I took aim." 
 
12 THE ironmaster; 
 
 ''That certainly wasn't brilliant," resumed the man in the 
 blouse, with, a touch of irony in his voice. ''But how does it 
 happen, monsieur, that you are shooting over this part of the 
 forest?" 
 
 ''Why," said the young sportsman, somewhat astonished, 
 " I shoot here because I've a right to " 
 
 "I don't think so. These woods belong to Monsieur 
 Derblay, who does not allow any one to set foot in them." 
 
 "Ah, ah! the ironmaster of Pont-Avesnes," rejoined 
 the young sportsman rather haughtily. " If I'm on his land 
 it is without knowing it, and I'm really sorry it should have 
 occurred. You are no doubt Monsieur Derblay's keeper ? " 
 
 "And you, who are you? " retorted the man in the blouse 
 without answering the question asked of him. 
 
 "I am the Marquis de Beaulieu, and I beg you to believe 
 that I am not in the habit of poaching." 
 
 On hearing this the man in the blouse flushed crimson, and 
 bowing most deferentially exclaimed, "Pray excuse me. 
 Monsieur le Marquis. If I had known whom I had to deal 
 with I should not have approached you nor asked you for any 
 explanations. Pray continue shooting ; I will withdraw." 
 
 Whilst listening the young Marquis attentively scanned 
 the man in the blue blouse. He seemed to be above his rus- 
 tic costume. His face, framed by a black beard, was hand- 
 some and intelligent. His hands were well shaped and well 
 cared for. Moreover, the gun he had just hung over his 
 shoulder was one of those admirable weapons, handsome in 
 their simplicity, such as English gunsmiths alone know how 
 to produce. 
 
 " Thank you," returned the Marquis coldly, " but I have not 
 the honour of knowing Monsieur Derblay. I am only aware 
 that he is a troublesome neighbour, with whom we are on bad 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 13 
 
 terms. I should therefore regret firing anotlier sliot on his 
 land. I only reached Beaulieu yesterday. I am imperfectly 
 acquainted with the ground, and my love of sport has led me 
 to overstep our limit. However, it shall not occur again." 
 
 ''As you please, Monsieur le Marquis," answered the man 
 in the blouse softly; ''but I can guarantee that Monsieur 
 Derblay would have been happy to prove to you in this cir- 
 cumstance that if he be a troublesome neighbour it is in spite 
 of himseK. He has encroached on the Beaulieu estate in lay- 
 ing down a mining railroad ; but rest assured that he regrets 
 it, and that he is ready to indemnify you as you may please. 
 The boundary of two neighbouring estates is sometimes un- 
 certain," he added with a smile. " You have just experienced 
 this yourself. So do not judge Monsieur Derblay without 
 knowing him. Later on you would certainly [regret your 
 severity." 
 
 "You are no doubt one of the ironmaster's friends?" 
 observed the Marquis, looking at the man in the blouse. 
 "One of his people, perhaps; for the warmth you show in 
 defending him " 
 
 " Is quite natural, believe me, Monsieur le Marquis." And 
 abruptly changing the conversation, the man with the black 
 beard added, "But you don't seem to have been very lucky 
 either over Beaulieu or Pont-Avesnes. Monsieur Derblay 
 prides himself on his preserves, and he would be annoyed to 
 hear it said that you left his land emptyhanded. Pray, there- 
 fore, accept this hare which you so obligingly started, together 
 with these four partridges." 
 
 "I cannot accept them," hastily replied the Marquis. 
 " Keep them, pray ; you would disoblige me by insisting '^ 
 
 "And yet I must insist, even at the risk of displeasing you," 
 answered the man in the blouse. "I will lay the game on 
 
14 THE ironmaster; 
 
 the bank here. You are free to leave it if you choose, but it 
 will only be for the benefit of the foxes. I have the honour 
 of saluting you, Monsieur le Marquis." And, leaping back 
 into the wood, he strode rapidly away. 
 
 '' Monsieur ! monsieur ! " called the Marquis ; but the man 
 in the blouse was already out of sight. ''What a strange 
 adventure ! " muttered M. de Beaulieu. " What shall I do V " 
 
 An unexpected intervention put an end to his perplexity, 
 for the brown spaniel had approached the bank, and taking 
 one of the partridges in his mouth with all due precaution, he 
 now brought it to his master. The latter began to laugh, and 
 stroking the dog exclaimed, '' So you don't want us to go 
 back with nothing." Thereupon, placing the hare and the 
 four partridges in his game-bag, the young Marquis turned 
 homewards, trudging somewhat heavily along with this un- 
 wonted burden. 
 
 The Chateau de Beaulieu, in the Louis XIII. style, and 
 comprising a central building and two wings, is built of white 
 stone with red brick dressings. The pointed roofs of the 
 wings are surmounted by tall sculptured chimney-stacks of 
 highly characteristic aspect. A broad terrace, more than five 
 hundred yards long, with a balustrade in red granite and 
 decked with parterres of flowers, extends in front of the 
 chateau, being reached by a flight of eight steps arranged as 
 a grotto underneath, whilst up the wrought-iron railings 
 flowers and creeping plants climb in profusion, offering a per- 
 fumed support to those who mount or descend. The terrace, 
 which has a southern aspect, becomes a delightful walk in the 
 autumn. The view is charming, for the chateau, built on the 
 heights which face the vineyards and quarries of Pont- 
 Avesnes, is surrounded by a park of fifty acres sloping gently 
 down into the valley. M. Derblay's ironworks may have 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 15 
 
 somewliat spoiled the beauty of tlie landscape and have 
 troubled the rural ealm, but Beaulieu nevertheless remains a 
 highly covetable estate. 
 
 And yet for long years it remained deserted. In 1845, 
 when the Marquis de Beaulieu — father of the young man who 
 has already been introduced to the reader — attained his 
 majority, he found himself in possession of a superb fortune, 
 and began to lead an extravagant life in Paris. Still, every 
 year, during the shooting season, he spent three months or so 
 at Beaulieu. It was then fete-time for the aristocracy of the 
 district, and the Marquis's lavish prodigality enriched the 
 neighbourhood for the whole winter. 
 
 When the Revolution of 1848 burst forth, the vinegrowers 
 of Pont-Avesnes, electrified by the socialistic speeches of a 
 few ringleaders, took it into their heads to requite the 
 Marquis's generosity by sacking his chateau. Armed with 
 guns, scythes, and pitchforks, with the red flag waving in 
 their midst, they climbed up to Beaulieu, yelling the ** Mar- 
 seillaise." They broke down the park-gates, which the porter 
 obstinately refused to open, and scattering themselves through 
 the chateau, they began to pillage it, destroying whatever 
 they could not carry off. The brightest of the band at last 
 lighted upon the cellar-door, and thereupon revelry followed 
 theft. The Marquis's wines were choice, and the vinegrowers 
 appreciated them like true connoisseurs. With inebriety their 
 violent instincts returned. Spreading through the conserva- 
 tories, which were tended with especial care, the brutes 
 began to tread the flowers underfoot and break the marble 
 vases. 
 
 In a verdant bower there stood an admirable statue of 
 Flora, the work of Pradier, beneath the pedestal of which a 
 cascade fell murmuring into a stone basin. One madman 
 
16 THE ironmaster; 
 
 was on the point of slasliing the charming figure with his 
 scythe, when the most drunken of the band suddenly became 
 sentimental, darted in front of the masterpiece, declaring 
 that he was a friend of art, and would plunge his pitchfork 
 into the stomach of any one who dared to touch the statue. 
 Thus the Flora was saved. However, to console themselves, 
 the good people of Pont-Avesnes thought of planting a tree 
 of liberty. They uprooted a young poplar in the park, and 
 after decorating it with red rags, came with joyful howls to 
 replant it in the middle of the terrace. Then they returned 
 to the town and continued their revolutionary orgie, yelling 
 until midnight. On the following morning a brigade of 
 gendarmerie arrived at Pont-Avesnes, and order was speedily 
 restored. 
 
 When the Marquis was apprised of this outbreak he began 
 by laughing. Having always behaved so munificently towards 
 the folks of Pont-Avesnes, it seemed to him only natural that 
 they should try to harm him. But when he learnt that a 
 so-called tree of liberty had been planted on the terrace, his 
 wrath was kindled. This, he considered, was carrying the 
 joke too far. He sent orders to his gardener to uproot the 
 young poplar, saw it into logs of the customary size, and 
 despatch these logs to him in Paris, to be used as firewood. 
 He moreover sent five hundred francs to the drunkard who, 
 declaring himself the friend of art, had saved the statue of 
 Flora ; and he caused the good people of Pont-Avesnes to be 
 informed that, by way of retaliating against their revolu- 
 tionary farce, he would never again set foot at Beaulieu as 
 long as he lived. 
 
 As this decision implied a loss of at least twenty thousand 
 francs a year, the village made an effort at reconciliation 
 through the medium of its mayor, and even tried the effect of a 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 17 
 
 petition signed by the municipal council. All of no avail. The 
 Marquis did not forgive the tree of liberty, and the chateau 
 of Beaulieu remained closed. To tell the truth, the Marquis 
 was considerably influenced in his resolution by the attrac- 
 tions of the capital. Club and greenroom life, sport and 
 gallant adventures, kept him away from Beaulieu even more 
 forcibly than his rancour against the peasants. However, 
 after leading for several years a life of pleasure and excite- 
 ment, he wearied somewhat of his follies, and took advantage 
 of a rational moment to marry. 
 
 His young wife, the daughter of the Due de Bligny, had a 
 tender heart and a calm mind. She worshipped the Marquis, 
 and knew how to close her eyes to his weaknesses. He was 
 one of those delightful prodigals for whom pleasure is the 
 quintessence of life, whose hands and heart are always open ; 
 he did not know how to resist a wish of his wife, and yet he 
 was capable of killing her with sorrow, to mourn her bitterly 
 afterwards. When the Marchioness began to scold him in a 
 maternal way after some excessive folly, he would kiss her 
 hands, with tears in his eyes, and say, '' You are a saint." 
 But on the morrow he began a^ain. 
 
 The young couple's honeymoon had lasted three years, and 
 this was praiseworthy on the part of such a man as the 
 Marquis. Two children were born of the marriage, a son 
 and a daughter. Octave and Claire grew up, reared by their 
 mother — the heir in serious fashion, so that he might become 
 a useful man; the daughter delicately, so that she might 
 charm the life of the suitor she selected. By a freak of 
 nature, however, the son was the living image of his mother, 
 sweet-tempered, tender-hearted, and gay, while the daughter 
 inherited her father's impetuous and ardent character. Edu- 
 cation may soften nature but it cannot change it. As Octave 
 
18 THE ironmaster; 
 
 grew older lie became the amiable young fellow lie bad 
 promised to be, wbile Claire proved the superb and baugbty 
 damsel already foreshadowed in infancy. 
 
 However there soon came to them a companion, brought by 
 misfortune and mourning. The Marchioness's brother — the 
 Due de Bligny — left a widower when very young with a little 
 son, perished miserably as a gentleman-rider on a racecourse, 
 having his ribs broken by his horse's hoofs. This descendant 
 of the Crusaders, who died like a jockey, left scarcely any 
 fortune behind him, and after the funeral little Gaston, his 
 son, was led, clad in black, to the house of his aimt the 
 Marchioness, where he remained. Treated like a third child, 
 he grew up with Octave and Claire. Older than they were, 
 he possessed innately the power of fascination and the elegant 
 instincts pertaining to the refined race he sprang from. Still, 
 he had been but little cared for by his father, whose dissi- 
 pated life was hardly conducive to paternal watchfulness. At 
 times abandoned to the servants, who suffered him to witness 
 their low intrigues ; at others taken by the Duke, his father, 
 to some partie fine, and excited by the highly-spiced fare 
 of restaurants, the innocence of this child, betwixt the 
 debauchery of varlets and the gallant adventures of his 
 father, was put to a sore trial. 
 
 When he was brought to the Beaulieu mansion he was of 
 weakly constitution, sad-minded, and somewhat corrupted 
 from a moral point of view. But in the healthier atmosphere 
 of family life he regained all the graces and all the freshness 
 of youth. At nineteen, when his studies were finished, he 
 promised to become a charming cavalier and an accomplished 
 gentleman. It was at this moment he perceived that his cousin 
 Claire, by four years his junior, was no longer a little girl. 
 
 She had been suddenly transformed. Like a lovely butter- 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 19 
 
 fly emerging from a ckrysaKs, Claire liad just blossomed forth, 
 in all the splendour of her radiant beauty. She was of fair 
 complexion. Her black' eyes gleamed with soft refulgency, 
 and her admirably developed figure was of matchless elegance. 
 Gaston adored her madly. His love came upon him like a 
 thunderbolt ; still, for two years he kept his secret deep in 
 the recesses of his heart. 
 
 A great misfortune induced him to speak. Confession 
 comes more readily from the heart in moments of grief. The 
 Marquis de Beaulieu suddenly died. This brilliant viveur 
 passed away discreetly in the English fashion.* He was not 
 taken ill ; he simply ceased to live. He was found stretched 
 on the carpet in his study. He had wished to examine the 
 documents connected with a lawsuit in which he was engaged 
 against some distant relatives in England, and this unwonted 
 task had proved too much for him. 
 
 Medical men, who are bent on determining everything with, 
 precision, and who do not admit that any one can dispense 
 with their opinion, especially when it is a matter of death, 
 declared in this instance that the Marquis's demise was due to 
 the rupture of an artery. Club friends shook their heads, 
 however, and said among themselves that poor dear Beaulieu 
 had finished like Morny — used up, burnt to a cinder by '' high 
 life." It is certain that no one could lead such an existence 
 as the Marquis had led for five-and-twenty years with impu- 
 
 * In the above expression the translator has scrupulously respected 
 M. Ohnet's phraseology. " To depart in the English fashion," as is 
 commonly said in France, means to go off without . saying "good-hye." 
 Had IM. de Beaulieu heen an Englishman, we should probably have said 
 of him that "he took French leave." Cordial as may be their neigh- 
 bourly intercourse, Frenchmen and Englishmen seldom let a favourable 
 opportunity pass without having a fling at each other ; and the present 
 is only one instance out of many. 
 
20 THE ironmaster; 
 
 nity. Others were of opinion tliat the revelation made by the 
 business man of this superb prodigal, that his entire fortune 
 was exhausted, had killed him as surely as if a bullet had 
 been lodged in his heart. 
 
 The Marquis's family, however, did not seek to ascertain 
 the causes of his sudden demise : it only thought of weeping. 
 M. de Beaulieu was loved and respected as if he had been a 
 model husband and father. The Marchioness put all her 
 household into mourning, and ordered princely obsequies for 
 the man whom she had so dearly loved despite his faults, and 
 whom she bitterly regretted. Octave, now Marquis de Beau- 
 lieu, and the Due de Bligny, his adopted brother, officiated as 
 chief mourners, surrounded by the oldest nobility of France ; 
 and in the evening, when they returned to the gloomy, silent 
 mansion, they found the Marchioness and Claire, clad in. 
 black, waiting to console them and thank them for having 
 fulfilled this sad and painful duty. Then the Marchioness 
 retired into her own room with her son to speak to him 
 of the future, and Gaston went out into the garden with 
 Claire. 
 
 The shades of night were spreading under the tall trees. 
 It was a beautiful summer evening ; the air was balmy with 
 the scent of flowers. The young couple walked slowly round 
 the lawn without exchanging a word. They were both fol- 
 lowing their thoughts. By a mutual impulse they paused 
 together and sat down on a stone bench. A fountain played 
 in the marble basin at their feet, and its monotonous murmur 
 lulled their reverie. Suddenly, however, Gaston broke the 
 silence, and, speaking precipitately, like a person who has 
 restrained himseK too long, he told Claire in touching terms 
 how bitterly he regretted the excellent man who had filled 
 his father's place. The young Duke was powerless to mode- 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 21 
 
 rate his feelings. His nerves had been too cruelly overstrung 
 all day long, and now, in liis utter weakness, lie succumbed 
 to liis acute emotion. Unable to restrain bis tears, be began 
 to sob, and then letting his heavy head fall on to Claire's 
 burning hands, he cried — 
 
 '' Ah ! I shall never forget what you and yours have been 
 for me. No matter what may happen to me in life, you will 
 always find me near you — I love you so." And between his 
 sobs he repeated, *' I love you ! I love you ! " 
 
 He coloured deeply and seemed almost ashamed of his 
 weakness, as Claire gently raised his head and looking 
 earnestly at him said, with a soft smile, *' And I, too ; I love 
 you." 
 
 Transported, Gaston raised a cry : '' Claire ! " 
 
 She placed her hands upon his lips, however, and with the 
 solemnity befitting an engagement, imprinted a kiss upon his 
 forehead. Then they slowly rose to their feet again, and, 
 leaning on each other, resumed in silence their walk around 
 the lawn. They no longer thought of speaking : they were 
 listening to their hearts. 
 
 On the morrow Octave de Beaulieu began to study law, and 
 Gaston entered the diplomatic service. The Eepublican 
 Government was at that time seeking for the support of 
 aristocratic names, with the view of reassuring the foreign 
 powers, who watched the triumph of democracy with anxious 
 eyes. The young Duke was attached to the cabinet of M. 
 Decazes, and a brilliant diplomatic future seemed reserved 
 for him. Eagerly received into society, he had created a great 
 sensation by his elegant bearing, his graceful features, and 
 his charming conversational powers. Sought after by mothers 
 with marriageable daughters, he had remained indifferent to 
 all advances. He had only eyes for Claire, and his most 
 
22 THE ironmaster; 
 
 pleasant evenings were those lie spent in his aunt's little 
 drawing-room, watcldng his cousin as she worked, bending 
 her head over her embroidery. The wayward hair curling 
 over her neck sparkled in the lamplight, and Gaston remained 
 grave and silent, devouring with his eyes, as it were, those 
 golden locks which he longed to kiss devoutly. At ten 
 o'clock he took leave of the Marchioness, shook hands in 
 brother-like fashion with Claire, and went off into society to 
 dance till dawn. In summer-time the whole household hied 
 away to Normandy, where the Marchioness had some pro- 
 perty. In memory of her husband's rancour, she had not yet 
 returned to Beaulieu. Gaston was supremely happy in the 
 country: he galloped on horseback through the woods with 
 Octave and Claire, whilst the Marchioness dived into the 
 family records in search of fresh documents for the English 
 lawsuit. 
 
 A very large sum had been bequeathed by will to M. de 
 Beaulieu ; but the legacy had been contested in England, and 
 the soKcitors of the adverse parties, entering into the suit like 
 so many rats into a cheese, were making money by prolonging 
 the hostilities. The action, which the Marquis had brought 
 mainly out of vanity, was carried on by his widow out of 
 interest, for M. de Beaulieu' s fortune had been grievously 
 compromised by his follies, and the great English legacy 
 represented by far the larger part of the two children's patri- 
 mony. The Marchioness had a handsome fortune of her 
 own perfectly secured, but it only ^sufficed to defray the 
 heavy expenses of everyday life. So, although Madame 
 de Beaulieu held legal quibbling in horror, she had become 
 a pleader in view of defending Claire's and Octave's interests. 
 Immersed in documents, constantly in correspondence with 
 her lawyers, she had really become most proficient in legal 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 23 
 
 knowledge. Slie liad perfect confidence in the result of the 
 suit. The opinion of her relatives strengthened her sense 
 of security, and it was generally considered that Claire would 
 bring a dowry of a couple of millions of francs (£80,000) to 
 the man who was fortunate enough to please her. Her 
 hand had already been asked for in marriage by suitors of 
 high birth and great fortune. But she had refused them all, 
 and when at last the Marchioness anxiously questioned her, 
 she unhesitatingly replied that she was engaged to the Due 
 de Bligny. 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu was by no means overjoyed on hearing 
 of this engagement. She not only had very strong precon- 
 ceived ideas on marriages between cousins, but she also 
 judged Gaston with singular penetration. She considered 
 him light-headed, passionate, and inconstant, quite capable of 
 ardent love, but incapable of loving faithfully. StiU, she did 
 not try to influence her daughter. She was acquainted with 
 Claire's wonderfully firm character, and knew that nothing 
 would induce her to set aside a freely contracted engagement. 
 Moreover, in the depths of her heart she was perhaps flat- 
 tered by the idea of an alliance which would restore to her 
 family the grand name of Bligny, which she herself had 
 relinquished on marrying. So she received her nephew gra- 
 ciously, and, as she could not treat him better than she had 
 done so far, she continued to regard him as her son. 
 
 Precisely at this period the Duke was appointed secretary to 
 the French embassy at St. Petersburg, and it was agreed on 
 both sides that the marriage should take place as soon as the 
 young diplomatist obtained his first leave of absence. This 
 first leave was given six months later. Gaston arrived in 
 Paris, but only for a week. He was entrusted with a confi- 
 dential mission which the ambassador had not chosen to 
 
24 THE ironmaster; 
 
 expose to the risks attendant upon tlie exchange of ciphered 
 despatches. 
 
 A week ! Could the wedding in all conscience take place 
 in so short a time ? There was not even time for the banns to 
 be properly published. During his brief visit the young 
 Duke showed himself affectionate towards Claire, but his 
 manner was tinged with a shade of levity which contrasted 
 with his pious adoration of former times. Since his depar- 
 ture he had mixed in Eussian society, the most corrupt that 
 exists in the world, and he returned to Paris with very 
 singular ideas on love. The expression of his face had changed 
 like the feelings of his heart. His features were harder and 
 more marked; it seemed as if a trace of debauchery now 
 lingered on his once unsullied brow. However, Claire did not 
 or would not see the alteration. Her tenderness was unsus- 
 ceptible of change, and besides, she had confidence in her 
 noble lover, and waited. But if Gaston's letters were at first 
 frequent, they gradually became few and far between, although 
 always full of passionate protestations. To believe him, the 
 postponement of his happiness made him sufiter cruelly. But 
 he no longer spoke of returning, and two years had elapsed 
 since his departure. 
 
 At her daughter's request, Madame de Beaulieu had closed 
 her drawing-rooms during the past two winters. Claire 
 wished to live in seclusion, so as to avoid the solicitations 
 of undiscouraged suitors. Meanwhile, Octave continued 
 studying jurisprudence, and the Marchioness became more 
 and more immersed in the documents of her interminable 
 lawsuit. 
 
 When spring returned, Claire, capricious as usual, ex- 
 pressed a wish to visit the Beaulieu estate, which she had 
 never seen, her father having placed it under interdict prior 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 25 
 
 to Ms marriage. Tlie MarcHoness, wlio was incapable of 
 resisting lier daughter, and who considered moreover that a 
 change would do her good, consented to undertake the 
 journey. And thus it happened that one fine October day the 
 young Marquis, who had just taken his degree, was met, gun 
 in hand and accompanied by his brown spaniel, in the woods 
 belonging to M. Derblay, the ironmaster. 
 
n. 
 
 Whilst tlie young Marquis was trudging back, heavily laden, 
 towards tlie chateau, Madame de Beaulieu and Claire sat in 
 the drawing-room enjoying the close of this fine day. The 
 large glass doors stood open, and the sun's rays streamed into 
 the room, brightening the faded gold of the frames enclosing 
 the portraits of the family ancestors, smiling or solemn in 
 their ceremonial costumes. The Louis XYI. furniture in 
 carved wood, painted white and picked out with sea-green, 
 was upholstered in tapestry representing Ovid's ' ' Metamor- 
 phosis." A broad screen, hung with Genoa velvet, encom- 
 passed the low, cosy arm-chair in which the Marchioness sat, 
 attentively knitting some woollen hoods for the little children 
 of the village. 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu was then over foi-ty years of age. 
 The hair crowning her grave gentle face was almost white, 
 and gave her a noble appearance. Her black melancholy 
 eyes seemed still moist with the tears she had shed in secret. 
 Of slender frame and delicate health, she took every kind of 
 precaution. Even on this warm afternoon a shawl was 
 stretched over her knees, sheltering her tiny feet, encased 
 with persistent coquetry in low black satin shoes, from the 
 fresh air. 
 
 Ensconced in a large arm-chair, with her head resting against 
 the tapestry at the back, and her hands hanging down inert, 
 
THE ironmaster; or, love and pride. 27 
 
 Claire, whose gaze was lost in the sky, contemplated without 
 seeing it the admirable horizon stretched out before her. 
 For an hour she had remained thus, motionless and silent, 
 enveloped in the sunlight, which, illuminating her fair hair, 
 gave it the gleam of an aureole around the Virgin's head. 
 
 The Marchioness had been anxiously watching her daughter 
 for some minutes. A sad smile had strayed over her lips, and 
 to attract Claire's attention she now stirred the basket con- 
 taining her balls of wool, a significant ''Hem, ! hem ! " accom- 
 panying the movement. But the young girl, quite insensible 
 to this indirect appeal, still remained motionless, and tena- 
 ciously followed her train of thought. The disappointed 
 Marchioness thereupon laid her work on the table, and, draw- 
 ing herself up in her chair, exclaimed in a slightly scolding 
 tone, ''Claire! Claire!" 
 
 For a moment Mademoiselle Beaulieu closed her eyes as if 
 to bid her dream good-bye, and then, without moving her 
 head, but merely raising her beautiful white hands to the 
 arms of the chair, she answered, "Mother." 
 
 " What are you thinking about ?" 
 
 Claire remained for a moment silent, and a wrinkle creased 
 her forehead. But at last, making an effort, she calmly 
 replied, *' I was thinking of nothing, mother. The warm air 
 had made me feel drowsy. Why did you call me ?" 
 
 " For you to speak to me," said the Marchioness, with a 
 shade of affectionate reproach in her voice. "To prevent 
 your remaining so silent and absorbed." 
 
 There came another brief pause, and Claire resumed her 
 listless attitude, while the Marchioness, leaning forward, and 
 careless of the fresh air, threw aside her shawl. At last, 
 turning slowly towards her mother. Mademoiselle de Beaulieu 
 displayed her beautiful sad face, and resuming aloud the 
 
28 THE ironmaster; 
 
 train of thouglit she liad been silently following, she asked, 
 ''How long is it since we have had any letters from St. 
 Petersburg?" 
 
 The Marchioness nodded her head, as if to say, "I knew 
 what it was all about," and then, trying to speak as calmly 
 as possible, she answered, ''It must be about two months." 
 
 " Two months, yes ! " repeated Claire, with a painful sigh. 
 
 The Marchioness's patience was now quite gone, and, 
 abruptly rising, she came and sat down near the window in 
 front of her daughter. " Come," said she, taking hold of 
 Claire's hands, "come, why do you always think about that 
 and torture your mind so ? " 
 
 " What can I think of," answered Claire bitterly, " but of 
 my betrothed ? And how can I avoid torturing my mind, as 
 you say, in trying to divine the reason of his silence?" 
 
 "I own that it is difficult to explain," rejoined the Mar- 
 chioness. "After spending a week with us last year, my 
 nephew, the Due de Bligny, started off, promising to return 
 to Paris during the winter. He next began by writing that 
 political complications detained him at his post. Then he 
 pretended that as the winter season was over, he should wait 
 for the summer before returning to France. Summer came 
 but not the Duke. Here, now, is autumn, and Gaston no 
 longer even favours us with pretences. He does not even 
 take the trouble to write to us. If this be only mere negli- 
 gence, it is already too much. My dear girl, everything is 
 degenerating. Even the men of our station no longer know 
 how to be polite." 
 
 As she spoke, the Marchioness raised her white head, which 
 made her look like one of the great ladies with powdered 
 hair who smiled aU round the drawing-room from their hand- 
 some frames. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 29 
 
 ''But supposing lie were ill," Claire ventured to say, 
 already impelled to defend tlie man she loved. '' Supposing 
 lie were altogether unahle to communicate with us ? " 
 
 ''That is out of the question," replied the Marchioness 
 pitilessly. "The Embassy would have informed us of it. 
 You may be sure that he is in perfect health, quite fresh and 
 gay, and that he led the cotillon all last winter in the ball- 
 rooms' of St. Petersburg." 
 
 A nervous twitch contracted Claire's features, and she 
 turned pale as though all the blood in her veins had rushed 
 to her heart. Then forcing herself to smile, she said, "He 
 promised me so often that he would come and spend the 
 winter in Paris, and I was eagerly looking forward to the 
 time when I should find myseK with him in society. His 
 successes would have been triumphs for me, and he would 
 perhaps have noticed mine. It must be confessed, mother, he 
 is not jealous, and yet there might be reason for jealousy. I 
 have been courted wherever we have gone, and I am scarcely 
 allowed to remain in peace even in this desert of Beaulieu. 
 It would seem that I have attracted the attention of our 
 neighbour the ironmaster." 
 
 ' ' Monsieur Derblay ? " 
 
 ' ' Yes, mother, Monsieur Derblay. On Sunday, at mass — you 
 did not notice it, you are too pious — I was reading my prayers 
 beside you, and without knowing why, I felt ill at ease. 
 Something stronger than my will attracted my attention, and 
 in spite of myself I turned, raised my eyes, and perceived 
 Monsieur Derblay." 
 
 " He was praying ? " 
 
 " No, mother; he was looking at me. Our eyes met, and 
 I could distinguish in his a kind of mute invocation, as it 
 were. I lowered my head, and during the rest of the service 
 
80 THE ironmaster; 
 
 I strove not to look again in Lis direction. However, as we 
 left the clinrcli I found him waiting under the porch. He 
 did not dare to offer me holy water, but he made a deep how, 
 and as we passed out I felt that his eyes were following me. 
 It appears this was the first time he had been seen at mass 
 this year." 
 
 As Claire finished speaking the Marchioness returned to 
 her old place, and having comfortably settled herself in her 
 arm-chair, she exclaimed, " Well, his presence at church will 
 perhaps increase his chances of salvation. But at all events, 
 instead of making soft eyes at you, he would do much better 
 if he indemnified us for his encroachments on our land. I 
 consider him rather ridiculous with his mute invocations, 
 indeed. And you must really have little to think of, Claire, 
 to occupy yourself with the sighs of this iron-smelter, who 
 one of these fine mornings will end by making us deaf with 
 his hammering." 
 
 ''But, mother. Monsieur Derblay's homage is respectful, and 
 I have no cause to complain of him. Besides, I only mentioned 
 him as an example — as one out of many. However, people 
 say that women's hearts are changeable. The Duke stays 
 away, and I am here, like Penelope, awaiting a return which 
 never takes place. Hasn't Graston ever thought that I might 
 perhaps grow weary of waiting ? He ought to have done so, 
 but I fear he has not. And so I remain here alone, patient 
 and faithful " 
 
 ''And you act very wrongly," exclaimed the Marchioness, 
 vivaciously, " If I were in your place " 
 
 " No, mother," interrupted Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, with 
 solemn firmness, " I don't act wrongly. Besides, my conduct 
 is only natural and quite undeserving of praise, for I love the 
 Due de Bligny." 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 31 
 
 ''You love TiiTn ! " rejoined the Marchioness, who was 
 unable to hide her irritation. ''How you do exaggerate! 
 The idea of transforming a childish friendship into deep love, 
 of assimilating a tie of relationship to a bond for life. You 
 and Gaston grew up together. You thought you would 
 always live on, side by side, and you imagined you would 
 never he happy unless the Duke became your husband. But 
 all that is folly, child." 
 
 " Mother ! " cried Claire. 
 
 But the Marchioness was fairly started, and the opportunity 
 of easing her mind which now presented itself was too 
 favourable a one for her to allow it to escape. "You greatly 
 deceive yourself respecting the Duke," she resumed. "In 
 point of fact he is light-headed and frivolous. As you know 
 yourself, he has certain independent habits which he would 
 never be able to shake off ; and I foresee a great many decep- 
 tions for you in the future. Shall I tell you what I really 
 think ? Why, that there will be cause to regret this marriage 
 should it ever take place." 
 
 Claire had started to her feet, and a crimson flush was rising 
 to her cheeks. For a moment the mother and the daughter 
 remained looking at each other without speaking. It seemed 
 as if the first words they exchanged would have exceptional 
 gravity. Mademoiselle de Beaulieu was at last unable to 
 restrain herself any longer, and in a quivering voice she 
 exclaimed, "This is the first time you have spoken to me 
 like that, mother. Do you want to prepare me for some bad 
 news ? Has the Duke's absence a serious motive that you 
 have hidden from me ? Have you learned " 
 
 The Marchioness felt frightened on observing her daughter's 
 violent emotion. She realised more forcibly than ever how 
 deeply and firmly Claire was attached to the Due de Bligny. 
 
32 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 She perceived that she had gone too far, and so, promptly 
 retreating, she rejoined, ''No, child, I know nothing; nothing 
 has been told me. I even consider that I am not told enough. 
 I am astonished by this long silence on my nephew's part, and 
 it seems to me that Gaston really carries diplomacy too far." 
 
 A weight was lifted from Claire's heart ; she felt reassured^ 
 and attributed her mother's strong language to a feeling of 
 displeasure which she herseK could not help thinking was 
 justified. Accordingly she strove to recover her serenity, and 
 exclaimed, ''Come, mother, let us have a little more patience. 
 The Duke is thinking about us, I'm sure of it ; and he will 
 surprise us by arriving here unexpectedly." 
 
 " I hope so, dear, since it is your wish. At all events, my 
 nephew De Prefont and his wife arrive to-day from Paris. 
 Perhaps they will be better informed than we are." 
 
 "Ah!" interrupted Mademoiselle de Beaulieu at this 
 moment, "here is Octave coming along the terrace with 
 Monsieur Bachelin, the notary." And availing herself of this 
 opportunity to bring her painful conversation with her mother 
 to a close, she eagerly rose to her feet. 
 
 She passed from the drawing-room on to the flight of steps 
 which conducted to the terrace, thus advancing into the full 
 sunlight. Twenty-two years of age, Claire was now in all the 
 radiance of her beauty. Her tall figure was exquisitely pro- 
 portioned, and her arms, springing from a superb bust, 
 terminated in a pair of hands Avorthy of a queen. Her 
 golden hair was knotted on the summit of her head, so as to 
 allow a full view of her round white neck. Leaning slightly 
 forward, with her hands resting on the iron balustrade, list- 
 lessly fingering one of the creeping plants which twined 
 around the bars, she looked the living incarnation of youth 
 in all its grace and vigour. 
 
OK, LOVE AND PRIDE. 33 
 
 For a moment Madame de Beaulieu gazed at lier admir- 
 ingly ; then slie shook her head in silence and heaved a final 
 sigh. The gravel on the terrace was grating under the tread 
 of the new arrivals, whose voices were already wafted con- 
 fusedly to the drawing-room. 
 
 Maitre Bachelin, the notary, was a little man of sixty or 
 thereabouts, somewhat corpulent owing to the sedentary office 
 life he had led. "With his white hair and his clean-shaven 
 red face, his solemn black clothes and just a glimpse of 
 wristbands falling over his hands, he was a perfect type of 
 the tabeUion'^' of the old regime. Strongly attached to his 
 noble clients, invariably repeating the formula, * ' Madame la 
 Marquise" in a devoutly unctuous voice, he busied himself 
 with the interests of the Beaulieu family by hereditary right. 
 In fact the Bachelins were by birth the notaries of the lords 
 of Beaulieu ; and the worthy man whom we have now to intro- 
 duce prided himself on possessing in his office various charters 
 dating from the reign of Louis XI., and whereon figured the 
 rough feudal signature of Marquis Honore-Onfroy-Jacques- 
 Octave de Beaulieu, and the ornamental flourish of Maitre 
 Joseph- Antoine Bachelin, royal notary. 
 
 The worthy man was delighted when the Beaulieu family 
 came back to their chateau, for naturally enough he hoped for 
 his own return into favour. He had long fretted over the 
 absence of his noble clients, and now that they had visited 
 their fine estate he trusted they would resume the practice of 
 spending the summer there. Desirous of displaying his 
 
 * This term " tabellion," which nowadays is so often applied to French 
 notaries in a sneering fashion, really has no insulting meaning at all. 
 Indeed, " tabellion " was simply the official title of the legal functionaries 
 who, prior to the Great Eevolution, discharged notarial duties in sub- 
 ordinate jurisdictions, notably on those demesnes where the seigneurs 
 administered justice. — Trans. 
 
34 THE ironmaster; 
 
 knowledge and acumen, lie had placed Hmself at Madame de 
 Beatdieu's disposal to unravel tlie entangled skein of the 
 English, lawsuit. For six weeks or so he had been actively 
 corresponding with the solicitors in London, and had wonder- 
 fully accelerated matters. In fact, in that month and a half 
 Maitre Bachelin had done more work than all the other legal 
 advisers of the Beaulieu family in ten years ; and despite 
 the unfavourable opinion which he had expressed regarding 
 the result of the suit, the Marchioness was delighted with his 
 help and stupefied by the ardour he displayed. She realised 
 that he was one of those devoted advisers worthy of being 
 raised to the rank of friend, and she treated him accordingly. 
 
 Bound for the chateau, Maitre Bachelin had met the young 
 Marquis at the park gate, and, perceiving that Octave was 
 heavily laden, he had perforce taken charge of his gun, which 
 he carried under his left arm, whilst under his right appeared 
 a bulky black leather portfolio stuffed full of papers. 
 
 "Why, how hampered you are in your movements, poor 
 Monsieur Bachelin!" gaily cried Claire to the notary, who, 
 whilst hastening up the stej)s, was vainly trying to bow and 
 take off his hat. 
 
 ''Pay accept the assurance of my profound respect, made- 
 moiselle," answered the notary. ''As you perceive, I unite 
 in my person the symbols of right and might : the code 
 under one arm and a gun under the other. But the gun is 
 under the left one. Cedant arma tog<z I Excuse me ; no doubt 
 you don't understand Latin. I am only a vulgar pedant." 
 
 " Oh, my sister knows enough Latin to understand that," 
 exclaimed the Marquis, laughing. "And as for your being a 
 pedant, well no, I prefer to think you the best feUow in the 
 world. Now, pray return me my gun. Thanks." And taking 
 his weapon, Octave mounted the steps behind the notary. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 35 
 
 ''You have had good sport, it seems," said Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu, waylaying her brother on the threshold of the 
 drawing-room, and feeling the weight of his game-bag. 
 
 ''Oh, I'll be modest! I don't care to strut about in 
 borrowed plumes. To tell the truth, this game was not killed 
 by me." 
 
 " Who killed it, then?" 
 
 " I don't know," answered the Marquis; and as his sister 
 made a gesture of astonishment, he added, "really, I don't. 
 The fact is, I had lost my way on the Pont-Avesnes land, 
 when I met another sportsman, who accosted me and asked 
 me who I was. He was rather haughty at first, and did not 
 mince matters in speaking to me, but as soon as I told him 
 my name he became not merely polite, but very amiable, 
 and almost forced me to accept what he had in his own 
 game-bag." 
 
 "How singular," exclaimed Mademoiselle de Beaulieu. 
 " Perhaps this man wanted to play you some joke." 
 
 " "Well, no, I hardly think so. He rather seemed desirous 
 of pleasing me ; and, in fact, as soon as he had deposited the 
 game on the bank of a ditch for me to take it, he hurried 
 off as fast as his legs could carry him, so as to prevent my 
 refusing the gift." 
 
 ' ' Will Monsieur le Marquis allow me to ask him a ques- 
 tion?" said Maitre Bachelin, who had been listening atten- 
 tively. 
 
 " Certainly, by all means, my dear sir." 
 
 "Well, what was this person like ? " 
 
 " Oh ! he was a tall fellow, very dark, wearing a blue blouse 
 and an old grey felt hat." 
 
 "Ah, ah! I was not mistaken," muttered the notary to 
 himself; and he added in a louder key, "Well, I can tell you 
 
36 THE ironmaster; 
 
 whom you are indebted to for your mysterious gift, Mon- 
 sieur le Marquis. The person you met was simply Monsieur 
 Derblay." 
 
 *' Monsieur Derblay!" exclaimed the Marquis. ''What, 
 rigged out in a blouse Kke a peasant, and wearing a slouched 
 hat like a poacher ? Come, that isn't possible." 
 
 ''Don't forget. Monsieur le Marquis," rejoined Maitre 
 Bachelin with a smile, "that we are all rustic sportsmen 
 hereabouts. Why, take myself, for instance; I like to be 
 decently dressed under ordinary circumstances, but I should 
 very likely frighten you if you met me at the edge of a wood 
 when I'm out shooting. The person you spoke with was 
 Monsieur Derblay, you may be sure of it. And even if I 
 didn't recognise him by the striking portrait you sketched of 
 him, that amiable gift of his would suffice to dispel all my 
 doubts. Oh, it was certainly he." 
 
 " Well, if that be the case, I was polite. In speaking about 
 him I told him he was a troublesome neighbour, and I added 
 all sorts of other unpleasant things. AVhy, I shall have to 
 go and apologise to him." 
 
 " You won't need to take that trouble, Monsieur le Marquis. 
 If you will kindly inform Madame de Beaulieu of my arrival 
 I will acquaint you in her presence with various matters which 
 I am sure will modify the opinion you had formed of Monsieur 
 Derblay." 
 
 "Upon my word, I don't ask anything better," replied 
 Octave, ridding himself of his shooting paraphernalia. " This 
 ironmaster seemed to be an amiable fellow." With these 
 words the Marquis entered the drawing-room, approached his 
 mother, and respectfully kissed her hand. "Maitre Bachelin 
 is here, mother, and would like to see you," he said. 
 
 "Why doesn't he come in?" eagerly replied the Mar- 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 37 
 
 cMoness. ''Wliy, for the last ten minutes I have heard you 
 chattering on the steps. Good afternoon, my dear Bachelin." 
 And as the notary bowed as deeply as his corpulence would 
 admit of, the Marchioness added, ''Have you brought me 
 some good news ?" 
 
 The expression of Bachelin's features changed, and in lieu 
 of a smile a look of concern spread over them. Eluding his 
 noble client's question, he answered in a serious tone, "I 
 have brought you some news, yes, Madame la Marquise." 
 
 Then, as if desirous of passing to a more pleasant topic, he 
 resumed, ''I went this morning to Pont-Avesnes, and I saw 
 Monsieur Derblay there. All the questions at issue between 
 you and him in reference to the boundaries of your estates are 
 as good as settled, for my worthy friend accepts whatever con- 
 ditions you may lay down. He is happy to be able to place 
 himself at your good pleasure." 
 
 '' But if that is the case," said Madame de Beaulieu with a 
 shade of embarrassment, '' we have no conditions to lay down 
 at all. As there is to be no battle, there can neither be victor 
 nor vanquished. The matter shall be submitted to your arbi- 
 tration, my dear Bachelin, and whatever you decide will be 
 equable, I'm sure." 
 
 ''Your decision delights me, and I'm really happy to see 
 peace re-established between the chateau and the ironworks. 
 The only point now is to sign the preliminaries, and with this 
 object Monsieur Derblay proposes to call at Beaulieu with his 
 sister. Mademoiselle Suzanne, so as to offer you his respects, 
 Madame la Marquise ; that is, if you are pleased to authorise 
 him." 
 
 " Oh, certainly. Let him come by all means. I shaU be 
 glad to see this Cyclops who is blackening the whole valley. 
 But come, I don't suppose it is merely the treaty of peace that 
 
38 THE ironmaster; 
 
 makes your portfolio so bulky," said Madame de Beaulieu, 
 pointing to tlie notary's letter-case. ''You have, no doubt, 
 brought me some fresh documents in reference to our English 
 lawsuit." 
 
 ''Yes, Madame la Marquise, yes," rejoined Bachelin, with 
 evident perturbation ; "we will talk business if you desire it." 
 
 As the notary spoke he gave the Marchioness an appealing 
 glance, as if to call her attention to the presence of her son 
 and daughter. Madame de Beaulieu understood him, and a 
 vague dread made her heart sink. What bad news could her 
 confidential adviser have to tell her that absolute privacy 
 seemed requisite ? However, she was a resolute woman, and 
 so turning towards her son she exclaimed, "Octave, pray see 
 if orders have been given for the carriage to be sent to the 
 station to fetch our cousins who arrive at five o'clock." 
 
 On hearing this Claire raised her head, and her brother 
 started. The Marchioness's desire was plain. She had devised 
 a pretext to induce her son to leave the room. These three 
 beings who loved each other so dearly had a mysterious 
 common preoccupation which they mutually endeavoured to 
 hide from one another. However, without asking any ques- 
 tions, Claire and the Marquis gave their mother a smile, and 
 left the drawing-room in opposite directions. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu slowly descended the steps leading 
 to the terrace. An idea that Bachelin might have brought 
 some news of the Due de Bligny had suddenly occurred to 
 her, and greatly agitated, with her head whirling so that she 
 could not fix her mind on any precise thought, she walked 
 along under the tall trees, unconscious of the passing time, so 
 deep was her emotion. 
 
 The Marchioness and Bachelin had remained together in 
 the drawing-room. The notary no longer made any effort to 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 39 
 
 retain a smiling countenance ; his expression was serious and 
 thoughtful. For a moment Madame de Beaulieu remained 
 silent, as if anxious to enjoy her tranquillity of mind as 
 long as was possible, but at last coming to a resolution she 
 exclaimed, ' ' Well, my dear Bachelin, what have you to tell me ? ' ' 
 
 The notary sorrowfully shook his white head. ''Nothing 
 pleasant, Madame la Marquise," he replied ; ''and it is a 
 source of great affliction for an old retainer of your family 
 like myself. I fear that the success of the action which the 
 late Marquis de Beaulieu, your husband, brought against his 
 collateral relatives in England is seriously compromised " 
 
 "You don't tell me the whole truth, Bachelin," interrupted 
 the Marchioness, " You would not be so downcast if there 
 were still a ray of hope. Come, speak ; I am strong and pre- 
 pared for the worst. Have the English courts decided ? Is 
 the action lost ? " 
 
 The notary lacked the courage to reply in words, but his 
 gesture was equivalent to the most complete confession. The 
 Marchioness bit her lips, and a tear glittered under her eye- 
 lashes, speedily dried, however, by the burning flush which 
 mantled over her face. 
 
 As for Bachelin, in his consternation he began to pace 
 hurriedly up and down the drawing-room. He had forgotten 
 his usual respectful manner, and no longer remembered in 
 what a hallowed spot he found himself. Carried away by his 
 emotion, and gesticulating as was his wont when he studied 
 a case in his office, he rattle d on in this desultory fashion : 
 " The action was not properly launched ! Those English soli- 
 citors are donkeys ! And rapacious, too ! They write you a 
 letter ; it's so much. You answer them, they read your reply ; 
 it's so mach more ! If the Marquis had even only asked me 
 for advice ! But he was in Paris, and his solicitor there gave 
 
40 THE ironmaster; 
 
 him bad counsel ! Anotlier set of donkeys, those Paris solici- 
 tors ! — fellows "who only know how to increase the consump- 
 tion of stamped paper! " 
 
 At this point the notary paused abruptly, and then striking 
 his hands together added, '' Ah ! it is a terrible blow for the 
 house of Beaulieu ! " 
 
 ''Terrible, indeed," said the Marchioness, ''for it implies 
 my son's and my daughter's ruin. For ten years to come I 
 shall have to economise rigidly with my own fortune in order 
 to restore our finances." 
 
 Bachelin' had ceased pacing up and down the drawing- 
 room. He had become calm again, and he now listened with 
 feeling respect to Madame de Beaulieu' s reply. He knew 
 that the lawsuit was irremediably lost. He had received a 
 copy of the judgment, and no further litigation, no appeal, 
 was possible. The Marquis's disdainful carelessness had 
 enabled his adversaries to acquire a superior position in the 
 suit, and henceforward the struggle could not possibly be 
 carried on. 
 
 "Misfortunes seldom come singly," resumed the Marchio- 
 ness, " so I suppose you have some other bad news to tell 
 me, Bachelin. While we are about it, tell me everything," 
 added Madame de Beaulieu ; "I don't think any blow could 
 affect me more grievously than this one." 
 
 "I wish I could share your confidence, Madame la Mar- 
 quise, for what I have still to tell you would then not seem 
 so painful. But I am acquainted with the delicacy of your 
 feelings, and I fear that the pecuniary loss which the failure 
 of the English lawsuit entails will seem to you the less 
 grievous of the two misfortunes." 
 
 The Marchioness turned very pale and became intensely 
 agitated. She divined what her confidential adviser was 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 41 
 
 about to tell her, and, unable to restrain herself, she eagerly 
 exclaimed, '' You have news of the Due de Bligny ? " 
 
 *' I was charged by you, madame, to inquire into your 
 nephew's conduct," rejoined the notary, with a touch of dis- 
 dain in his tone which was highly significant coming from a 
 man who, as a rule, fervently worshipped the aristocracy. 
 ^'I followed your instructions to the letter. For the last six 
 weeks Monsieur le Due de Bligny has been in Paris " 
 
 "Fox six weeks! " repeated the Marchioness with stupe- 
 faction, " and we were not aware of it ! " 
 . *' M. de Bligny advisedly refrained from informing you." 
 
 "And he hasn't come here ! He isn't here to-day — ^know- 
 ing the misfortune that has overtaken us ! For he is aware 
 of it, no doubt?" 
 
 " He knew of it one of the first, Madame la Marquise." 
 
 Madame de Beaidieu made a gesture of painful surprise, 
 and then, in a tone of profound affliction, she exclaimed, 
 ** Ah ! you were right, Bachelin, this grieves me more cruelly 
 than the money loss. The Duke abandons us. He has not 
 come, nor will he come ; I had a presentiment of it. All that 
 he wanted from us was a fortune. The fortune has vanished 
 and the suitor hurries off. Ah ! money is the password of 
 these venal, avaricious times. Beauty, virtue and intelligence 
 count for nothing. People no longer say, 'Eoom for the 
 worthiest,' but 'Eoom for the wealthiest.' Now we are 
 almost poor, and so we are abandoned." 
 
 Bachelin had listened quietly to the violent outburst of this 
 grieved and angered mother. In spite of himself the notary 
 could not conceal a feeling akin to satisfaction. He had 
 become very red again in the face, and vigorously rubbed his 
 hands together behind his back. 
 
 "Madame la Marquise/' said he, "I think that you slander 
 
42 THE ironmaster; 
 
 tlie times we live in. No doubt positive ideas are dominant, 
 and the cupidity wMeli is natural to the liuman species has 
 made great progress. But we must not pass tlie same sen- 
 tence on all of our contemporaries. There are still some 
 disinterested men who consider beauty, virtue, and intelli- 
 gence as gifts which make the woman possessing them 
 desirable above all others. I won't say that I know many 
 men of the kind. But at least I know one, and for the point 
 at issue a single example sufiices." 
 
 '' What do you mean ? " asked the astonished Marchioness. 
 
 ^^ Simply this," replied the notary,, '' that a gallant friend 
 of mine has not been able to see Mademoiselle de Beaulieu 
 without falling passionately in love with her. Knowing that 
 she was engaged to the Duke, he would not have dared to de- 
 clare himself. But if he learns she is free, he will speak, 
 providing you condescend to authorise him to do so." 
 
 The Marchioness looked fixedly at Bachelin. ' ' You are 
 referring to Monsieur Philippe Derblay, are you not? " she 
 asked. 
 
 ''Yes, Madame la Marquise, precisely so," the notary boldly 
 replied. 
 
 ' ' I am not ignorant of the feelings with which my daughter 
 has inspired the ironmaster," exclaimed the Marchioness. 
 ''He does not hide them ; he does not hide them enough." 
 
 *'Ah! that is because he loves Mademoiselle Claire, and 
 sincerely too," the notary rejoined with warmth. "But 
 you do not know Monsieur Derblay sufficiently, Madame la 
 Marquise, to be able to judge him at his real value." 
 
 "lam aware that he is highly esteemed throughout the 
 district. But you, my dear Bachelin, you are on intimate 
 terms with his family ? ". 
 
 "I have known Monsieur Philippe and his sister. Made- 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 43 
 
 moiselle Suzanne, ever since they were born. Their father 
 was kind enough to call me his friend, and this will explain, 
 Madame la Marquise, my boldness in acquainting you with 
 Monsieur Derblay's sentiments. I hope you will forgive me 
 for having taken this liberty. In my eyes my client only has 
 one flaw — his name, which is written in one word without an 
 apostrophe. However, if a search were made, who knows ? 
 The family is a very old one, and under the Eevolution honest 
 folks clustered close together, so maybe the letters of Mon- 
 sieur Derblay's name did the same." 
 
 ^' Let him keep his name as it is," said the Marchioness 
 sadly. '^He bears it like an honourable man, and that suffices 
 in the times we live in. Look at the Due de Bligny, who 
 abandons Claire because she is ruined ; then turn to Monsieur 
 Derblay, who solicits the hand of a dowerless girl, and tell 
 me which of the two — ^high born and low born — is the real 
 nobleman! " 
 
 "If Monsieur Derblay heard you he would feel very happy, 
 madame." 
 
 " Pray do not repeat to him anything of what I have just 
 told you," interrupted the Marchioness gravely. " Made- 
 moiselle de Beaulieu accepts generosity from no one, and 
 with the character she j)ossesses it is probable she will die a 
 spinster. Please God that she will prove strong and resigned 
 when this double blow falls upon her." 
 
 The notary remained for a moment confused and speech- 
 less, and then, in a voice which trembled with emotion, he 
 exclaimed, " Whatever happens, Madame la Marquise, pray 
 remember that Monsieur Derblay would be the happiest man 
 in the world were he even allowed to hope. He will wait, I 
 am sure of it, for his heart also is unsusceptible of change. 
 I can discern that these events will lead to great affliction for 
 
44 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 all of US — for I trust you wiU allow an old retainer like my- 
 self to be numbered among those wbo wiU share your tribu- 
 lation. Now, if you will kindly permit me to offer a sugges- 
 tion, I should advise you not to say anything to Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu, at least for the present. Maybe the Due de 
 Bligny will return to more honourable feelings, and besides 
 it will always be time enough for Mademoiselle Claire to 
 suffer." 
 
 *' You are right ; but at all events I must inform my son of 
 the blow that strikes him." And walking to the steps, the 
 Marchioness beckoned to Octave, who was sitting on the 
 terrace, patiently awaiting the end of the conference. 
 
 ''Well," said he gaily, ''is the sitting raised, or have 
 you sent for me to deliberate with you ? " 
 
 "I wish to acquaint you with some grave tidings which 
 deeply grieve me," replied the Marchioness softly. 
 
 The Marquis immediately assumed a serious expression, 
 and, turning to his mother, asked, "What is the matter ? " 
 
 " Maitre Bachelin has received a final communication from 
 our legal representative in England." 
 " Eespecting the lawsuit ? " 
 "Yes." 
 
 Octave approached his mother, and, affectionately taking 
 her by the hand, asked, " Well, it is lost, eh ? " 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu, who was stupefied to find the Marquis 
 so calm, looked at Bachelin as if seeking for an explanation, 
 but the notary remained impassive, and so she turned to her 
 son again. "You know it then?" she asked, breathing 
 more freely, as if the Marquis's calm resignation had eased 
 her heart. 
 
 " No, not precisely," replied the young man; "but I had 
 my doubts. I did not wish to worry you ; I respected your 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 46 
 
 illusions, but in my own mind I was perfectly convinced that 
 this action could not prove successful. I have therefore long 
 been prepared to hear that it was lost. My only concern was 
 for my sister, whose dowry was at stake. However, matters 
 may be easily arranged. You must leave her the part of 
 your fortune which you were reserving for me. As for 
 myself, do not be anxious, mother ; I shall always be able to 
 weather the storm." 
 
 The Marchioness flushed with pride on hearing these 
 generous words, and, turning towards the notary, she ex- 
 claimed, " "What can I complain of when I am blessed with 
 such a son?'^ Then opening her arms to the Marquis, who 
 was smiling softly, she added, '* You are a brave fellow, come 
 and let me kiss you." 
 
 "Oh! I deserve no praise," rejoined the Marquis with 
 emotion. '' I love my sister, and I will do everything in my 
 power to make her happy. But, come, as we are talking of 
 these sad things, don't you think, mother, that our cousin De 
 Bligny's silence has some connection with the loss of this 
 lawsuit?" 
 
 "You are mistaken, child," replied the Marchioness eagerly, 
 as she raised her hand to silence her son. "For the 
 Duke " 
 
 " Oh, fear nothing, mother," interrupted Octave with dis- 
 dainful haughtiness ; " if Graston hesitated to keep his engage- 
 ment now that Mademoiselle de Beaulieu no longer comes to 
 him with a million in either hand, we are not, I fancy, 
 the sort of folk to seize him by the collar and compel him 
 to keep his promises. In fact, in my opinion, if the Due 
 de Bligny fails to 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 Marchioness. 
 
46 THE ironmaster; or, love and pride. 
 
 "Yes, well said, Monsieur le Marquis," eclioed Bacheliii. 
 "And if Mademoiselle de Beaulieu is no longer wealthy 
 enough to tempt a dowry-hunter, she will always be sufficiently 
 perfect to captivate an honourable man." 
 
 The notary would perhaps have proceeded further, but the 
 Marchioness silenced him with a glance. Delighted with the 
 favourable issue of this crisis, which he had feared would be 
 such a terrible one, Bachelin thereupon took respectful leave 
 of his noble clients, and hurried off in the direction of Pont- 
 Avesnes as fast as his old legs could carry him. 
 
ni. 
 
 As Bachelin liad stated, it was really M. Derblay wliom the 
 Marquis de Beaulieu had met, clad like a poacher, in the 
 woods of Pont-Avesnes. Letting Octave call after him as 
 loud as he liked, he had hurried on through the wood, going 
 straight before him, careless of the lashing bran(;hes and the 
 tearing brambles. He laughed nervously, mingling muttered 
 words with exclamations. Chance had brought him nearer 
 to the woman whom he adored "from afar, in a dream, as it 
 were, like a young queen just espied, and his heart was full 
 of joy. 
 
 He descended the slope which leads to the valley, scudding 
 over the ground with his long legs, and unconscious of the 
 rapidity of his movements although the perspiration oozed from 
 his forehead. He was seemingly bent on keeping pace with 
 his thoughts, which flew on the wings of the wind. When 
 the young Marquis de Beaulieu learnt whom he had had to 
 deal with, as would ultimately happen no doubt, he would 
 certainly feel grateful for the courtesy shown him by the man 
 he had called a troublesome neighbour ; and then, who knows, 
 they would be brought more closely together. He, Philippe, 
 might then approach Claire, the adorable maiden whose soft 
 smile lived in his memory. He would be able to speak to her. 
 But at this thought a cloud passed before his eyes, for it seemed 
 to him that the words would die away in his throat, and that 
 
48 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 he would remain dumb-stricken before ber, crushed as it were 
 by his emotion. However, he might take refuge in some 
 dark corner of the drawing-room, and thence admire her at 
 his ease. Lost in contemplation he would feel supremely 
 happy. 
 
 Happy ? How was that ? What would be the issue of his 
 amorous tenderness ? He would suffer aU the more acutely 
 on beholding the woman he so passionately yearned for, 
 married to another man. For the Due de Bligny would 
 certainly return. Could a man, beloved by such a woman, 
 be mad enough to disdain her? And even if she did not 
 marry the Duke, some other suitor would come forward — a 
 brilliant nobleman, who would only have to show himself and 
 give his name to be welcomed with open arms — whilst he, the 
 low-born ironmaster, would be disdainfully rejected. 
 
 At this thought a feeling of deep sadness overcame him, 
 and his strength waned. He no longer ran towards Pont- 
 Avesnes, bounding like a deer through the cover. He 
 trudged slowly on, mechanically tearing the leaves from the 
 branches and 'crumpling them in his hand. "What a mis- 
 fortune it was that he durst not even aspire to win this ideal 
 creature ! At this thought he paused abruptly beside an oak- 
 tree, and leaning against its trunk without thinking of sitting 
 down, he remained in meditation there, his features pale and 
 grave, and his eyes moistened by mental agony. 
 
 He recalled to mind all the exploits of his life, and asked 
 himself if in virtue of the task he had accomplished he were 
 not really deserving of happiness. After very brilliant studies 
 he had left the Polytechnic School with first honours, and had 
 chosen the State mining service. He had just obtained his 
 appointment as an engineer when the Franco-German war 
 broke out. He was then two-and-twenty. Without hesitating 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 49 
 
 he had enlisted as a volunteer in one of the regiments of tlie 
 army of tlie BMne. He had been present at the sanguinary 
 defeat of Worth, and had returned to the camp of Chalons 
 with the remnants of the first corps d'armee. Then he had 
 taken part in the disastrous march on Sedan, and found him- 
 self, on the night of the battle, a prisoner of war guarded by 
 Prussian uhlans. But he was not of a nature to relinquish 
 liberty without an effort, and profiting by the darkness he 
 crawled through the German lines during the night. Then, as 
 soon as he reached Belgium, he made for Lille, where he was 
 incorporated in one of the new regiments then being formed. 
 
 The war continued, and he saw the invasion stretch like 
 gangrene over the country. Under the orders of General 
 Faidherbe, who recognised his merits, he took part in the 
 campaign of the North. At St. Quentin he received a bullet 
 wound, and for six weeks he remained between life and death 
 at the hospital, only awaking from his long trance to shudder 
 on learning that Paris was in the hands of the Commune. 
 His convalescence spared him the sad obligation of firing 
 upon his misguided fellow-countrymen, and he started for the 
 paternal home, still suffering from his wound, but wearing on 
 his breast the ribbon of the Legion of Honour, which his 
 General had brought him in person whilst he lay stretched on 
 his bed of suffering at the hospital. 
 
 He had experienced many sorrows in an exceedingly short 
 space of time, but a greater grief than all awaited bim at 
 home. He found the house in mourning. His mother had 
 just died, leaving his little sister Suzanne, then only seven 
 years old, to the care of others. M. Derblay, senior, forced 
 to absent himself to attend to important business matters, had 
 left his daughter under the guardianship of some devoted ser- 
 vants. Philippe's arrival was attended by a fresh explosion 
 
50 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 of grief, a fresh flow of tears. Little Suzanne attached her- 
 self to her brother with the convulsive tenderness peculiar to 
 bereaved, abandoned children. Poor weak, wee little girl, 
 she clung to him as if appealing for support and help. 
 Philippe, who had a simple, tender heart, adored this child, 
 who so greatly needed affection and found so little ; placed 
 as she was between her father, absorbed by business, and the 
 servants, who, faithful as they might be, were not apt to treat 
 her with that delicate tenderness which is even more necessary 
 than material care for children and women. 
 
 However it was necessary he should leave home and go 
 into harness again. His departure caused Suzanne bitter 
 grief. The desp air she felt when her brother bade her good- 
 bye was akin to that which had crushed her when her mother 
 died. But Pate had decided that their separation should not 
 be a long one. Six months later M. Derblay died in his turn, 
 overcome by excessive work, and henceforth Philippe and 
 Suzanne were all alone in life. 
 
 Presh duties then fell to the young man's lot. The wind- 
 ing-up of his father's affairs proved very complicated and 
 fruitful in painful surprises. Although M. Derblay, senior, 
 had been a remarkably intelligent man, he had possessed 
 one great fault. He undertook more than he could properly 
 accomplish. H e expended his activity in various affairs with- 
 out being able to carry them on all together and with equal 
 success. The profits of one enterprise were absorbed by the 
 losses of another, and he was incessantly assailed by a swell- 
 ing flood of difficulties, which he momentarily mastered by 
 dint of skill and energy, but which, sooner or later, would 
 inevitably have ended by submerging him. However, as it 
 happened, he had died before the catastrophe, leaving his 
 affairs in a most confused state. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 61 
 
 As an engineer Philippe had a splendid career already 
 chalked out before him. He might have abandoned his 
 father's enterprises, have wound them up as well as possible, 
 and have then resimied his own course. But in that case the 
 whole of the paternal inheritance would have been needed to 
 save the name, and Suzanne would have remained dowerless. 
 Under these circumstances the young man did not hesitate. 
 He renounced his career and sent in his resignation; and 
 then taking up the heavy burden which had proved too 
 weighty for his father, he became a manufacturer. 
 
 The task before him was a mighty one. There was some 
 of everything in the paternal inheritance — some glassworks 
 at Courtalin, a foundry in the Nivernais, some slate quarries 
 in the Var, and the forges and furnaces of Pont-Avesnes. 
 Philippe sprang boldly into the abyss, and tried to save the 
 scattered remains of his father's property. He worked intre- 
 pidly, and during six years he devoted not merely the day- 
 time, but also many hours of the night, to the task of redemp- 
 tion which he had so bravely undertaken. All the ready 
 money he could command was employed in setting the various 
 concerns going again ; and then as they recovered by degrees, 
 at first activity and then prosperity (thanks to his exertions), 
 he disposed of them, retaining only the ironworks, the value 
 of which he fully recognised. 
 
 Thus in seven years he had liquidated the paternal inheri- 
 tance, and now he only possessed the foundry in the Nivernais, 
 which he utilised conjointly with the works at Pont-Avesnes, 
 feeding the former establishment with the metal turned out 
 at the latter one. He was altogether beyond the reach of 
 danger ; the property he had retained was really his own, and 
 he felt capable of greatly extending his enterprises. Popular 
 as he was throughout the district, he might come forward at 
 
52 THE ironmaster; 
 
 the elections to be returned as a deputy. "Who knew ? Such, 
 a position was calculated to flatter a woman's vanity. And, 
 besides, a great industrial establishment is itself a power in 
 this money-loving century. 
 
 Little by little as these reflections crossed his mind, hope 
 revived in Philippe Derblay's heart. He had set ofl again, 
 and had already reached the edge of the wood. On his right 
 hand stretched the meadows spreading over the valley, whilst 
 on his left rose the rocks forming the base of the hill. It was 
 here that the entrances to the mine were pierced. A little 
 railroad ran up a gentle incline towards the galleries, and 
 served to convey the mineral to the works. 
 
 Suddenly aroused from his meditation, Philippe resolved to 
 go and see how the labour was i^rogressing, and turning aside 
 he directed his steps towards the mine. The overseer whose 
 duty it was to control the output occupied a hut standing on 
 a little hillock. Philippe made straight for this shanty, but 
 as he drew nearer he fancied he could hear some people shout- 
 ing. There was, indeed, an unusual stir at the entrance to 
 the galleries, and on ]3erceiving it the ironmaster so quickened 
 his pace that in a few minutes he was on the spot. He at 
 once realised the cause of this unwonted tumult. 
 
 The prolonged infiltration of water had caused a subsidence 
 of part of the railway embankment. Several trucks were 
 overturned, and below the bank a mass of sand and a number 
 of beams and sleepers had buried the conductor of a train 
 which was passing when the accident occurred. A few work- 
 men and a number of women, who had speedily arrived from 
 the village, made up an animated group, in the midst of which a 
 woman who seemed half crazy was weeping and gesticulating. 
 
 Philippe eagerly elbowed his way into the circle. ''What 
 has happened ? " he anxiously asked. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 63 
 
 '^ Ail ! Monsieur Derblay," exclaimed the weeping woman, 
 who had broken forth into still more boisterous lamentation 
 at sight of the ironmaster, ''it's my poor lad, my little 
 Jacques, who was overturned with his truck, and has been 
 buried under all that sand for the last three-quarters of an 
 hour." 
 
 " And what has been done to rescue him?" asked Philippe 
 eagerly, as he turned towards the miners. 
 
 " We have removed as much of the sand as possible, sir," 
 replied a foreman, pointing to a large excavation. " But we 
 don't dare go any farther for fear the beams and sleepers 
 might fall in and crush the little chap." 
 
 " He stiU spoke ^to us only ten minutes ago," cried the 
 mother in despair, *'but now we can't hear him. He's no 
 doubt been stifled. Oh ! my poor little lad ! Are you going 
 to leave him buried there ? " And overcome by her emotion, 
 the poor woman burst into sobs and sank on to the grassy 
 slope of the embankment. 
 
 Throwing his gun to the bystanders, M. Derblay had flung 
 himseK on the ground, where he remained listening with 
 his head just inside the excavation, underneath the crossed 
 sleepers. All was silent in the poor lad's sandy tomb. 
 
 "Jacques!" cried the ironmaster, whose voice had a 
 mournful muffled sound under the sand and the beams, 
 *' Jacques ! Can you hear me ? " 
 
 At first only a moan came in reply, but a moment later 
 these words reached him, faintly and disconnectedly, *' Ah ! 
 master! It's you I Ah! My God! If you're there — ^then 
 I'm saved." 
 
 This simple confidence touched Philippe deeply, and he 
 determined to make every effort, and attempt even the im- 
 possible so as to make the poor lad's hope reality. 
 
64 THE ironmaster; 
 
 ''.Can you still move ?" he asked. 
 
 '' No," murmured the lad, with failing breath, as if he were 
 almost stifled. '' Besides, I think I have a leg broken." 
 
 These words, which were heard in the midst of a deathlike 
 silence, elicited a sorrowful murmur from the bystanders. 
 
 " Don't be frightened, my lad, we are going to get you 
 out," resumed Philippe, and then rising to his feet, he added 
 to the workmen, " Come, you others, just get some stan- 
 chions and raise this beam." At the same time he pointed to 
 a long beam deeply buried under the debris, and the project- 
 ing portion of which formed a kind of lever. 
 
 '' That won't do, master," rejoined the foreman, shaking 
 his head sadly. ''Everything would then fall in. There's 
 only one plan possible. Three or four strong men ought to 
 crawl into the hole we've dug and try and pull the lad out, as 
 he can't move. At the same time one might try and shore 
 these sleepers up. But all the same, it's awfully risky, and 
 the men who go in might possibly stop there." 
 
 "Nevertheless it must be done," said the ironmaster 
 resolutely, as he looked at his workmen ; and as they all re- 
 mained motionless and silent his face flushed. 
 
 ' ' If one of you were lying under that sand, what would he 
 think of his comrades who left him there ? " he asked. " Come, 
 as none of you dare, I'll go myself." And bending down 
 Philippe glided into the excavation. 
 
 A cry of admiration and gratitude arose among the by- 
 standers ; and as if an example had sufficed to restore every 
 one's courage, three men crawled in after the ironmaster, 
 whilst the remainder, combining their strength, stooped be- 
 neath the projecting beams and raised them up by dint of 
 incredible efforts. Silence had again ensued. One could only 
 hear the sobs of the woebegone, moaning mother, and the 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 65 
 
 husky breathing of the workmen, staggering under the weight 
 they supported. A few minutes — long as centuries, and during 
 which the life of five men remained in suspense — elapsed, and 
 then all on a sudden a joyful outcry arose. Begrimed with 
 soil, with hands gashed and shoulders lacerated, the four men 
 emerged from the excavation, and Philippe, who came last, 
 carried in his arms the swooning lad. 
 
 A frightful crash resounded. The workmen had ceased 
 supporting the beams, which now gave way, filling up the 
 space left vacant by the rescue of the lad. The latter's 
 mother, who now seemed half crazy with delight, lavished her 
 joy and gratitude on her son and the ironmaster, whilst the 
 crowd, impressed and silent, respectfully surrounded them. 
 
 "Come, carry that lad home," said M. Derblay gaily, 
 *' and let some one go for the doctor." Then adjusting his 
 dress and taking his gun again, the ironmaster strode off to- 
 wards Pont-Avesnes. 
 
 News of the rescue had speedily followed the announcement 
 of the accident, and as Philippe came in sight of the chateau 
 gate he espied his sister, escorted by BacheKn, coming towards 
 him. On perceiving her brother, Suzanne quickened her 
 XDace. She approached, attired in a light dress and carrying 
 a large pink parasol, which serviceably sheltered her charm- 
 ing head on this fine sunshiny day. Mademoiselle Derblay 
 was seventeen years of age, and her fresh, gay face, wore a 
 delightful expression of trustfulness and candour. Her brown 
 eyes smiled even more than her lips. No doubt her beauty 
 was not of a regular character, but her tender, naive grace- 
 fulness rendered her irresistibly charming. In her impar 
 tience she began to run towards her brother, tilting her 
 parasol, which outspread like a full-blown sail. She had 
 opened her arms and was about to spring on to Philippe's 
 
56 THE ironmaster; 
 
 neck, when lie gently repulsed her, crying, ''Don't touch 
 me ! I'm covered with mud, and I should spoil your dress." 
 
 *' What does that matter ? " exclaimed Suzanne with joy- 
 ful eagerness. '' Oh ! I must kiss you ! You have saved the 
 child! Oh, Philippe! you are always ready when there is 
 something good and beautiful to be done ! " So saying she 
 took her brother's head in her hands and kissed him tenderly. 
 
 Bachelin, whom Suzanne had outstripped, now came up 
 greatly out of breath. ''Well, my dear friend," said the 
 notary, " here's another good action to be set down to your 
 credit account." 
 
 " Pray don't mention it," interrupted Philippe, with a 
 smile. " It really isn't worth while. The worst of the busi- 
 ness is that I fear the child is badly hurt. You would do 
 well to go and see him with your medicine-chest, Suzanne, 
 and if there is any expense to be incurred, pray defray it." 
 
 "I will go at once, brother," said the young girl. " Shall 
 I take Brigitte with me ? " 
 
 "Do so. As for ourselves, my dear notary, let us go indoors," 
 added Philippe, turning towards Bachelin; "I look like a 
 vagabond, and must change my clothes." 
 
 As Suzanne went off in the direction of the domestic offices, 
 Philippe and the notary crossed the large square courtyard, 
 which was encompassed by old lime-trees, whilst in the 
 centre, from a large rectangular sheet of water, edged with 
 parterres of flowers, a jet spurted into mid air, falling again 
 in fine spray scattered by the wind, and tinged by the sun- 
 rays with iridescent sheen. This basin contained all that re- 
 mained of the water which had belted the chateau when the 
 Avesnes was diverted from its course and turned into the moats 
 by the old lords of the place. However, the channel which 
 admitted of this was dammed up in the reign of Louis Xin. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 67 
 
 and tlie moats were drained. The sKme at the bottom 
 of them was mixed with mould brought from a distance 
 at great expense, and from this admirably fertile soil sprang 
 the fruit-trees which are even nowadays the pride of Pont- 
 Avesnes. There are here pear-trees and peach-trees nearly 
 two hundred years old and yielding unique fruit ; for these 
 broad moats, with their stone facings serving as espaliers, are 
 like reservoirs in which the sun deposits its vivifying rays. It 
 is as warm here as in a hothouse, and the bitter winds can- 
 not penetrate to dry and wither the trees. 
 
 The chateau is built on an elevation, but although it lacks 
 none of the advantages of site, it is sombre and gloomy, and 
 its tan slate roofs stand out grimly against the sky. As 
 Philippe had limited himself to occupying one wing of the 
 vast frigid pile, the rest remained closed, and if it were not 
 for careful Brigitte, Suzanne's foster-sister, who despite her 
 youth and thanks to her happy precocity, ably discharges 
 the duties of housekeeper, the chateau would be altogether 
 neglected. But the active girl, infusing her zeal into the 
 servants under her orders, has the whole place cleaned regu- 
 larly every fortnight, and sees that the admirable Louis- 
 Quatorze furniture in the reception rooms is properly cared 
 for. When Brigitte opens the shutters of the grand drawing 
 room and the light streams into the vast apartment, the effect 
 is like that of a curtain rising in a theatre and disclosing some 
 marvellously luxurious scene. On the walls hang beautiful 
 Gobelins tapestry, portraying the history of Alexander the 
 Grreat. The large arm-chairs scintillate with their coverings 
 of Gfenoa velvet and their gilded framework of stately design. 
 The flowers of the parterres, the water- jet, and a corner of 
 blue sky are reflected for a moment n ithe great Venetian 
 mirrors with bevelled edges. Then active Brigitte passes by 
 
 E 
 
58 THE ironmaster; 
 
 carrying a light f eather-brusL. and a broom. Finally, as soon 
 as the cleaning is over, the shutters are closed again, and the 
 artistic riches of the chateau relapse once more into darkness. 
 On the ground-floor of the wing which is inhabited 
 Philippe has reserved for himself a large study, surrounded 
 with bookshelves, the upper ones of which are only reached 
 by means of steps. In the cen^tre of the room stands a large 
 writing-table covered with papers, which might seem in dis- 
 order to any one but the master; and here, moreover, is a very 
 fine bronze inkstand representing a pair of struggling Cupids, 
 the victor jocosely pressing a bunch of grapes to the mouth of 
 his vanquished antagonist. On the mantelshelf figures an 
 admirable ebony clock with brass ornaments, executed by 
 Boule in his earlier manner. From the study one may reach 
 the dining-room, where the staid-looking furniture is of carved 
 pear wood; the sideboard being adorned with several pieces 
 of richly wrought massive silver plate, which, by the way, is 
 never used. On the other hand, the little drawing-room is 
 furnished in modern middle-class style, with hangings of blue 
 poplin and chairs and couches upholstered in the same 
 material. The clock on the mantelshelf and the fire-dogs of 
 the grate are all three of the rocaille style. On a little mar- 
 quetry table there lies some unfinished embroidery seemingly 
 awaiting Suzanne's return, while on the walls hang two por- 
 traits, those of Philippe's father and mother, painted more 
 conscientiously than successfully by a scarcely proficient pupil 
 of Plandrin. 
 
 On the first-floor are two large bedrooms, occupied by 
 Philippe and Suzanne, with dressing-rooms attached. That 
 of Philippe has a dark sober aspect, with its hangings of 
 Havannah-tinted stamped velvet and its black furniture, the 
 only ornaments being a panoply of modern arms, in the centre 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 59 
 
 of wMcli figures a linesman's metal liquor-flask, pierced with, 
 tliree bullet-holes — a souvenir of th.e engagement of Pont- 
 Noyelles. Suzanne's room, on the contrary, is as fresh and 
 virginal as its occupant. The hangings are a combination of 
 some blue material and white muslin caught up with pink 
 favours, while the white-lacquered furniture is picked out with 
 blue lines. Here and there, moreover, are scattered all the 
 little trifles which ornament so prettily a maiden's room. 
 From her window Suzanne can follow the long avenues of the 
 park, vaguely limited by distant foliage, and her balcony 
 would be a fit spot for reverie, could reverie for one moment 
 bedim the gaiety of a youth to which care is unknown. 
 
 It was to his study that Philippe took Bachelin when his 
 sister had tripped away. He had a presentiment that the 
 notary had just come from Beaulieu, and like all lovers he was 
 eager to learn such important or futile particulars as his old 
 friend invariably acquainted him with after each interview 
 with the noble inmates of the chateau. However, on this occa- 
 sion Bachelin did not seem inclined to speak. Ensconced in 
 an arm-chair, he looked carelessly at the ironmaster, who 
 stood bolt upright before him, like a note of interrogation. At 
 last Philippe could restrain himself no longer, and he asked 
 with affected calmness, '' Well, have you spoken to Madame de 
 Beaulieu of the arrangement I propose respecting the en- 
 croachment on her land ? " 
 
 " Certainly I have." 
 
 " Well, does she find it sufficiently acceptable ? " 
 
 '' Quite so." 
 
 Philippe looked askance at Bachelin, annoyed by his laconic 
 manner ; but, deciding he would bring the conversation nearer 
 to the subject he had at heart, he resumed, " Did you also 
 offer the right of shooting over my preserves ? " 
 
eo THE ironmaster; 
 
 ''Wliat was tlie use of doing so?" quietly rejoined the 
 notary, at the same time giving the ironmaster an ironical look. 
 
 ''You ask me what was the use?" cried the latter in 
 astonishment. 
 
 ''Well," replied Bachelin, " there was no necessity for my 
 making the offer, since you made it yourself to the Marquis 
 this morning, and in the most romantic fashion, too." 
 
 A slight flush came to Philippe's face, and he lowered his 
 head with embarrassment. "Ah! So Monsieur de Beaulieu 
 spoke to you of our meeting ? " he asked. " But he did not 
 know whom he had to deal with." 
 
 " I told him. Perhaps I ought to have added that if you 
 fiHed his game bag so plentifully, it was because you were in 
 love with his sister.? " 
 
 "My friend!" 
 
 " Ah, ah ! Do you retract ? " asked Bachelin gaily. 
 " Do you happen not to love Mademoiselle de Beaulieu any 
 longer?" 
 
 " "Would to Heaven I didn't, for it is great madness," 
 replied Philippe. " How can I — .a toiler who has long left 
 society on one side — have thought of this young girl, who is 
 at once so beautiful and so proud, and yet for this last reason 
 perhaps all the more tempting ? I saw her looking pale and 
 thoughtful, somewhat anxious, no doubt, on account of the 
 prolonged absence of the man she is betrothed to ; and in 
 spite of myself, without thinking of restraint, I gradually 
 came to love her. I forgot the distance that separated us ; I 
 did not think of our difference of origin. I did not hear the 
 voice of reason, the advice of experience ; I only listened to 
 my love which carolled irresistibly in my heart. Ah;^ my old 
 friend, I am ashamed of myself, and yet I cannot overcome 
 this mad passion which fills me with unknown joy, and tran- 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 61 
 
 sports me with exquisite sensations — wliicli gives me every- 
 thing, in fact, excepting hope! For there my blindness 
 ceases, and I don't hope, I give you my word for it.'* 
 
 ''You don't hope, it's agreed," rejoined Bachelin in a 
 bantering "tone. ''But, at all events, you love, that's patent. 
 So I conclude I acted rightly in speaking as I did to the 
 Marchioness?" 
 
 "In speaking?" stammered Philippe, with emotion. 
 " What do you mean by ' speaking ' ? What did you speak 
 of?" 
 
 " Why, I spoke about what you think, about what you 
 have just expressed to me in such telling, passionate terms." 
 
 The ironmaster took a step backward, his eyes receded 
 under his brows, and their expression darkened. He angrily 
 bit his lips, but at last, striving to speak in a calm voice he 
 asked, " But did I request you to inform Madame de Beaidieu 
 of such matters ? " 
 
 "No, that's true, you did not ask me to do so," rejoined 
 Bachelin quietly. ' ' But, to tell the truth, I found a favour- 
 able opportunity, and I didn't hesitate. Do you see, there's 
 nothing like a well-defined situation. You would have con- 
 tinued beating about the bush for weeks and perhaps months ; 
 you would have plunged all the more deeply into this love 
 adventure, and perhaps with serious consequences. It was 
 much better to make a clean breast of it once and for aU, 
 even at the risk of being haughtily repelled. These are the 
 reasons that led me to act as I did. Don't you think they 
 have some weight?" 
 
 Philippe remained silent. He had scarcely heard Bachelin, 
 for his mind was whirling, and he had lost all notion of exist- 
 ence. It seemed as if he were being carried rapidly through 
 space. The wind whistled in his ears, and he was unable to 
 
62 THE ironmaster; 
 
 fix his eyes on anything through the mist that obscured his 
 gaze. In his aching head it seemed as if a mysterious voice 
 persistently repeated what was perhaps a vague revelation of 
 destiny, " Claire ! if she were really to become yours !" 
 
 The notary at last aroused him from his torpor. ''Well, 
 why are you gazing fixedly at me like that ?" asked Bachelin. 
 " You look like a visionary." 
 
 Philippe passed his hand over his forehead, as if he were 
 desirous of effacing a painful impression, and then, smiling 
 at his friend, he replied, '' Excuse me, I was troubled at 
 thinking that you had taken such a serious step without my 
 knowledge. I did not think it was in your nature, otherwise 
 I should have asked you to say nothing. Since the day 
 when I was weak enough to. confess to you that I loved 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu I have not ceased regretting that 
 I had spoken so indiscreetly. But it would seem that when a 
 man is in love his heart becomes too small for all the tender- 
 ness it should contain, and in spite of one's self more 
 than is proper escapes one. Avowals come to one's lij)s and 
 cannot be restrained. But scarcely had I spoken to you than 
 my illusion was dispelled, and the pitiless reality appeared to 
 me. Mademoiselle de Beaulieu has never done me the honour 
 to notice that I existed. She is wealthy, she is betrothed to 
 her cousin, and she will become a duchess. I must be a per- 
 fect madman to love her. I deserve punishment undoubtedly, 
 and I am ready to submit to it. Come, tell me everything ; 
 you need not spare me." 
 
 " Well, to begin with, I will tell you that Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu is no longer wealthy, that she will probably never be 
 a duchess, and that an honourable man like yourself never had 
 a better chance than now of being accepted as her husband." 
 
 On hearing this Philippe became so pale that it seemed as 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 63 
 
 if lie were about to faint. He raised a cry of joy, and then, 
 giving way to emotion, sank heavily into an arm-cliair. 
 ^' Oh, take care ! Beware of giving me hope ! It would be 
 too hard if I were compelled to renounce it afterwards." 
 
 ^'But yet I mean to give you hope," rejoined Bachelin, 
 ^' although in doing so I betray, for your sake, all the secrets 
 of the Beaulieu family. However, it is so much in your own 
 interest to remain discreet that I am sure you will never 
 repeat what I have just told you." 
 
 Philippe caught hold of the notary's hands, and gazed at 
 him with burning eyes full of inquisitiveness. 
 
 ''Mademoiselle de Beaulieu is ruined by the loss of the 
 English lawsuit," resumed Bachelin, ''and she is not aware 
 of it. For the last six weeks the Due de Bligny has been in 
 Paris without occupying himself about her, and she has no 
 more knowledge of this than of the other matter. However, 
 whenever Mademoiselle Claire learns that she is abandoned, 
 a frightful tempest will burst forth in her heart, and there 
 will be plenty of fragments to be rescued by those who are 
 near her." 
 
 " Euined and abandoned ! " cried Philippe. " That accom- 
 plished and adorable girl ! But what need has she of any 
 fortune ? The only treasure a man should expect from her is 
 herself." 
 
 "Yes, certainly; and in speaking of you to the Marchioness 
 I insisted on your absolute disinterestedness." 
 
 " You were right," cried Philippe warmly. " Tell Madame 
 de Beaulieu what I think; teU it to her also, I beg of you." 
 He paused abruptly, as if saddened by some discouraging 
 thought. "But no," he resumed, "say nothing. She is 
 proud and haught3\ The idea of owing anything to the man 
 who wiU be her husband would raise a barrier between us 
 
64 THE ironmaster; 
 
 and induce her to reject me. However, warn the Marchioness, 
 acquaint her with my scruples, try and win her approbation. 
 Above all, let it be formally understood that I am a suitor for 
 her daughter's hand. Oh ! I would receive Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu's hand on my knees. But I wish she should still 
 beheve herself rich, so as to accept or refuse me freely. Even 
 if I had to settle on her everything I possess, I should still 
 be her debtor." 
 
 ** Come, come," said Bachelin, interrupting Philippe with, 
 an affectionate sign of the hand. ''You are dashing off 
 post haste. What fine things youth and passion are ! But 
 you must proceed more sedately. At the present moment the 
 only thing for you is to visit the chateau. In default of other 
 satisfaction, you will at least have that of contemplating the 
 object of your desires, as people said in the last century. 
 Be calm and grave, bear yourself discreetly in accordance 
 with your situation, and take your sister with you. She will 
 serve you as a screen ; the others will occupy themselves with 
 her, and in the meanwhile you will be at ease." 
 
 "And when ought I to go to Beaulieu?" asked Philippe, 
 with evident trepidation. 
 
 "Come, now, are you already afraid, before even starting 
 off ? Well, I should go to-morrow. A good night's rest will 
 set you on your legs again. You will be in the enjoyment of 
 all your faculties and appear to the best advantage." 
 
 As the notary spoke he slowly rose, placed his portfolio 
 under his arm, and took a few steps towards the door. Paus- 
 ing suddenly, however, in the centre of the room, and giving 
 the ironmaster a bantering look, he asked, "Well, do you 
 stni regret that I spoke to Madame de Beaulieu without 
 having your authorisation to do so ? In your emotion you 
 haven't asked me what she answered." 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 65 
 
 ''It's true," cried Philippe, whose joy by a sudden change 
 now gave way to anxiety. " What did she say ?" 
 
 " She said what I expected she would say in such a case, 
 that is, she declared she had nothing to say, that she would 
 never force Mademoiselle Claire to marry — in one word, she 
 answered me with all the usual commonplaces. But, believe 
 me, the strength of the position you wish to conquer is not 
 on the mother's side but on the daughter's ; so be brave. 
 And now I'm going off to dinner." Thereupon BacheHn 
 shook hands affectionately with the ironmaster, and with- 
 drew. 
 
 Left alone, Philippe fell into deep meditation. He calmly 
 considered the situation, and was obliged to confess to himself 
 that it was not unfavourable to his hopes. Dishonourably 
 betrayed by her cousin, Mademoiselle de Beaulieu would 
 necessarily sojourn for some months longer in the Jura, so 
 that time might in some measure efface the humiKation 
 inflicted on her. Thus he would have opportunities of seeing 
 her, of paying her discreet attentions, and maybe he might 
 succeed in pleasing her. Suzanne would surely be a useful 
 auxiliary, and in lieu of sending her back to the convent at 
 Besangon as soon as the holidays were over, he would keep 
 her at home. She would become Claire's companion, and 
 win her friendship with her gentle na'ive gracefulness. By 
 degrees she might instil some thought of her brother into 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu' s heart. 
 
 As these ideas flashed through Philippe's mind, the dream 
 seemed to become reality. He fancied he could see the two 
 young girls slowly pacing under the overspreading trees of 
 Pont-Avesnes. They walked side by side and arm in arm, 
 like a pair of sisters, one of them tall and proud, the other 
 slight and gentle. He watched them, and it seemed as if he 
 
66 THE ironmaster; 
 
 could inhale the discreet perfume emanating from their 
 persons. The delicious scent intoxicated him, and he was 
 about to touch them, when suddenly a pair of fresh lips were 
 pressed to his forehead and aroused him from his dream. 
 Then Suzanne's dear voice whispered in his ear, ''What are 
 you thinking of, Philippe ? " 
 
 As the ironmaster remained seated, vaguely smiling at her, 
 and without replying, she speedily resumed, *' You won't 
 tell me ? Then I suppose / must speak. Well, I've no 
 doubt but you are thinking of a very beautiful young lady 
 with golden hair." 
 
 Philippe sprang to his feet, and catching hold of his sister's 
 hand, ''Suzanne!" he cried. 
 
 But on espying the young girl's malicious glance, he lost 
 confidence, and was unable to continue. He remained 
 standing in a state of stupefaction, asking himself how it 
 happened that this child had guessed his thoughts so accu- 
 rately. 
 
 " How disturbed you are," resumed Suzanne tenderly. 
 "Did you think your secret was so well concealed that no 
 one could divine it ? But for a month or more you have not 
 been the same, and I didn't need much penetration to per- 
 ceive that your heart no longer belonged, to me alone. Oh ! 
 I'm not jealous, I love you too much for that. And if I feel 
 anxious when I see you ho pensive and absorbed, it is not 
 that I fear you might divert some of your affection from me 
 to bestow it on another, but because I fear you have some 
 grief. I owe you so much, Philippe. It was you who pro- 
 tected me, loved me, and brought me up when I was alone 
 without father or mother. And it seems to me that I am not 
 merely your sister, but your daughter, the child of your care 
 and toU. Go ; love and be loved in retui-n ! You will only 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 67 
 
 see me rejoice ; for I know of no happiness complete enongli 
 on earth to reward sucli a perfect being as yon are." 
 
 The tears started from the ironmaster's eyes and trickled 
 down his cheeks. His sister's gentle words had affected his 
 excited nerves. He felt crushed and stood motionless, leaning 
 against the mantelshelf, and looking at Suzanne, who smiled 
 at him. 
 
 " But now you are crying," she said. '' But come ; is it so 
 very sad to be in love ?" 
 
 '^ Don't ever speak of that folly again," interrupted 
 Philippe in a husky voice. 
 
 ''Folly! Why, pray? What woman who knew you 
 could help trying to please you?" And standing in front of 
 him with a bold expression and resolute gestures, she con- 
 tinued, "Come, if necessary, I will go and say to her you 
 love, ' Mademoiselle, you act very wrongly in not loving my 
 brother, for he is superior to all other men on earth. I can 
 declare it, for I have known him long and I know him well.' 
 And I'll be so eloquent that she'll come to you of her own 
 accord, and hold out her hand with a beautiful curtsey, and 
 say, ' Monsieur, you have such an extraordinary little sister 
 that I have not been able to close my eyes to your merit any 
 longer. Will' you do me the favour to become my husband?' 
 Then you'll bow to her gracefully, and reply with a thoughtful 
 air, ' Hon Bieu ! Mademoiselle, as it is to oblige you, I will.' 
 Then I'll bless you both with an air of solemn protection, and 
 you'll be very happy. Ah ! you see you are laughing. I 
 knew I should end by consoling you." 
 
 Thereupon, taking the arm of her brother, whose feelings 
 could not staiid such vivacious communicative gaiety, Suzanne 
 led him outside, exclaiming, ''Let us take a walk round the 
 garden while we're waiting for the wedding ! " 
 
IV. 
 
 Six weeks previously, wlien the Due de Bligny aliglited from 
 tlie train wMcli had brought him from St. Petersburg to 
 Paris, he drove at once to his club. Having no apartment 
 prepared for his reception, and his aunt's mansion being 
 closed, Gaston thought the most practical course was to install 
 himself in one of the rooms which a good club always keeps 
 ready for the accommodation of its members. He meant to 
 remain merely a week or so in Paris ; in fact to start for 
 Beaulieu as soon as he had transacted his business at the 
 Ministry of Foreign Affairs and made a few purchases. 
 
 Nearly a year had elapsed since his last visit to Prance, 
 and he had been leading in Eussian society that artificial 
 vie Parisienne which is considered supreme hon ton abroad, 
 although it resembles the true high life of Paris merely as 
 much as a Phine pebble resembles a Wisapoor diamond. 
 
 And yet the refined corruption of the Slavs had seized hold 
 of him, and he had found a great charm in leading a life 
 which blended Asiatic languor with European activity. The 
 Pussian ladies had captivated him by the undulating grace 
 and enigmatical charm of their beauty. He had been seized 
 with a desire to learn the secret of these smiling sphinxes, 
 whose eyes were full of fascination while their claws were 
 full of threats. A handsome fellow, well bred, and bearing 
 a famous name, he had been greatly sought after, and by 
 
THE ironmaster; or, love and pride. 69 
 
 degrees tlieimage of Claire, faitMully engraved as it was ou 
 Jbis heart, faded away as if it were but one of those charming 
 crayon drawings of Latour, tlie colours of which grow pale 
 with age. 
 
 Far away from Claire, he at first considered himself in 
 exile, and determined to lead a sober, retired life. But how is 
 it possible for a man to cloister himself when he is the 
 yoimgest attache of a French embassy and is gracefully 
 courted in all directions ? After a week's stern retirement, 
 Gaston was unable to dispense with attending at one of the 
 ambassador's receptions, and so he assumed his fete attire 
 and made his entry into St. Petersburg society. 
 
 On the very first evening the young Duke became the 
 favourite of the Eussian aristocracy. His grandfather, after 
 emigrating with the Comte d'Artois, had lived in the intimacy 
 of the Nesselrodes, the Pahlens, and the Gortschakoffs. 
 Bligny was welcomed in the most flattering manner by the 
 reat personages of the court, and was even presented to the 
 Czar, who treated the young attache with a favour that was 
 'much remarked. This diplomatist of five-and-twenty ac- 
 quired in a single evening a highly important position, and 
 his superiors, far from grudging their subordinate his success, 
 only thought of profiting by the influence which he had so 
 swiftly acquired. 
 
 But although Gaston was an elegant cavalier, and highly 
 gifted in social accomplishments, he proved a very indifferent 
 politician. He plunged into pleasure and neglected intrigue, 
 and it was promptly shown that if St. Petersburg society had 
 ained a brilliant recruit, France had not acquired a useful 
 servant. Buzzing and fluttering from flower to flower, the 
 Due de Bligny was not the toiling bee absorbed in producing 
 honey, but rather the brilliant wasp intent on rapine, with 
 
70 THE ironmaster; 
 
 his golden corselet seintillating in tlie sunsMne. In a few 
 weeks lie revealed liimseK as an intrepid vive^ir. His admi- 
 rably tempered nerves defied the most crushing fatigue. At 
 supper he stood his ground against the most renowned 
 tipplers, and everybody knows how prodigiously the Russians 
 drink. At the Nobleman's Club he played a game of bac- 
 carat which remained legendary, for it lasted three days and 
 nights, during which the Duke and his adversaries only rose 
 from table to recruit their strength with the necessary 
 nourishment. Gaston vanquished his rivals not by his per- 
 sistent luck, however, but by the drowsiness which ultimately 
 stretched them out on the carpet. Then he became the lover 
 of fascinating Lucie Tellier, the ''star" of the French 
 company at the Michael Theatre, and retained his hold on 
 her despite all the attempts at corruption of the most lavishly 
 prodigal boyards. One fine day, however, tired of her 
 probably because she remained faithful to him, he was 
 pleased to restore her to her Muscovite admirers. 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu had guessed rightly. The Duke was 
 the lion of the Eussian winter season. There were no good 
 fetes without him. He might have aspired to the hand of 
 the richest heiress of St. Petersburg, but he disdained every 
 overture that was made to him, and for this very reason was 
 all the more ardently sought after. 
 
 However, Bligny had the blood of a hlase in his veins, so 
 that after six months or so the life he led caused him pro- 
 digious weariness, and his only resource against spleen was 
 the gaming-table. The very first time he had taken cards in 
 his hand he had felt he was a gambler to the backbone. 
 Thus he gambled and with insolent good luck. It seemed as 
 if he were a predestined conqueror. Each morning, laden 
 with the spoils of his adversaries, he returned home, feeling 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 71 
 
 an iron circle round his liead and with a taste of dust on his 
 lij)S. He went to bed as the day broke, the dark overcast 
 day, resembling twilight, of Eussian winter-time. Worn out, 
 he slept until the afternoon. Towards four o'clock he rose, 
 and his day began just as the gas-lamps were being lighted 
 through the city. He had arranged his existence in a 
 contrary fashion to other peoples'. He lived as it were 
 inversely, for during two years he hardly ever saw the sun. 
 He was no longer a butterfly, but a moth. His features, 
 which were graceful and delicately chiselled when he left 
 home, had now a stem hard outline. Handsome they still 
 were, no doubt, but the charm and freshness of youth had 
 disappeared, and he wore as it were a vivenr^s mask upon his 
 face. His dark curly hair was moreover becoming scanty 
 about the temples, and his blue eyes were sunken far under 
 his brows. The mad life he led left a more distinct mark 
 upon him every day. 
 
 His aunt would have had some difficulty in recognising 
 him. He was no longer the timid young stripling with a 
 gentle voice who passed his evenings so peacefully between 
 the Marchioness and Claire in the quiet drawing-room of the 
 old family mansion. Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, who was 
 resolute and decided, and of a somewhat masculine nature, 
 had then laughingly called him *'Miss Gaston." But now 
 he had lost all that graceful pliancy which had made him look 
 like a young girl. He was a man and a dangerous one. He 
 had discovered treasures of innate scepticism in his mind. 
 He really believed in nothing, and set his good pleasure 
 above aught else. The paternal blood, which the peaceful 
 enjoyments of retired life had momentarily calmed within 
 him, had begun, to boil again; and the ardent passionate 
 race of the Bligny's, who from the reign of Henri III. down- 
 
72 THE ironmastek; 
 
 wards had given the court of France its most dissolute 
 mignons^ its boldest raffines, its most gallant menins, and most 
 debauched roues,"^- found in his person a worthy representative 
 of the ancestral traditions. 
 
 Slight as his figure was, he nevertheless possessed a giant's 
 vigour. He was like one of those lords of former times who 
 painted their faces and perfumed their hands ; who, rather 
 than stoop, bade their pages pick up their cup and ball ; who 
 had themselves carried about in litters to avoid the fatigues of 
 horsemanship, and yet who, on days of battle, charged like 
 madmen in the melee, with a hundredweight of iron on their 
 bodies, and accomplished heroic feats. Gaston would cer- 
 tainly not have walked a mile with any useful object, but he 
 was a man to go out shooting or hunting for an entire day, to 
 fence foil in hand for hours without cessation, so as to weary 
 even those who considered themselves beyond fatigue. 
 
 It was at the gaming-table that he really appeared in all 
 his strength. It seemed as if his will sufficed to impel luck 
 to his side. He won with unheard-of persistency. The worst 
 "hands" became good when dealt to him. The '' bank," of 
 which short work was made when he attacked it, became 
 unconquerable when he held it. During two years indeed 
 luck treated him like a spoilt child, and he was nicknamed 
 '^ Lucky Gaston." Another person would perhaps have been 
 regarded with distrust, but his honesty was too patent for 
 him to incur suspicion. 
 
 The remnants of his patrimony, with the resources he 
 derived from the gaming-table, enabled him to live in style. 
 He had some marvellous horses, a superb abode, and all the 
 luxurious comfort indispensable to a man living in the highest 
 
 * The reader will "bear in mind that the mignons, menins, raffines, and 
 roues were more or less the fops and " mashers " of other times. — Trans. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 73 
 
 society. Wlien lie arrived at tlie Nobleman's Club the game 
 assumed a new aspect. Everyone at once realised that tbe 
 engagement would be serious, and that large sums would 
 quickly cover the tapis vert. He did not merely confine 
 himself to baccarat and lansquenet, but willingly played a 
 game of piquet as well, his stakes being usually a louis the 
 point, with a hundred others tacked on at the end for luck. 
 It was to him that old Narischkine, more than forty times a 
 millionaire, addressed his memorable mot. Gaston had just 
 won three thousand louis from him, and he rose from the 
 table saying, '' I prefer to go home, for if I stayed I should 
 end by losing money." 
 
 After frequenting the performance at the Opera House or 
 the French Theatre, or on leaving the house where he had 
 spent the evening, Gaston habitually sprang into his sledge 
 and had himseK driven along the Perspective. Warmly 
 enveloped in his furs, he liked to feel the cold night wind pass 
 over his face. His nerves were thus strengthened for the 
 game, and he felt quite fresh when he reached the club at 
 two o'clock in the morning. He found his adversaries already 
 excited, and his cool calculating audacity triumphed over the 
 boldest of them. He remained impassive seated at the gaming- 
 table, under the burning light ; neither gain nor loss affected 
 his coolness. The oldest gamblers did not remember having 
 ever seen such perfect bearing before. He was grave and 
 almost disdainful when puerile superstitions revealed them- 
 selves around him. He only counted on himself, and shrugged 
 his shoulders when fetishes were spoken of or displayed. 
 
 Although he was scarcely of a passionate nature, and too 
 deeply egotistical to love, he nevertheless had several lonnes 
 fortunes. The fact is, he behaved generously, and by no means 
 drove the beauties who smiled on him to despair. He 
 
74 THE ironmaster; 
 
 detested tears, and was anxious not to grieve any one for fear 
 of tlie lamentations and reproaclies tliat would follow. Only 
 on one occasion did lie really fancy that lie was seriously 
 enamoured, but subsequent events showed that he had flat- 
 tered himself. One of the greatest ladies of the Russian 
 aristocracy, the Countess Woreseff, famous for her emeralds 
 and her golden hair, fell in love with him. Closely watched 
 by her husband, who was exceedingly jealous of her, the 
 beautiful Countess was unable to write to Gaston or to see 
 him otherwise than in society. At the first moment Graston, 
 who seemed quite smitten, almost forgot the gaming-tables. 
 He sedulously followed the Countess about to social gather- 
 ings, waltzing with her under her husband's jealous glance, 
 but unable to. devise an expedient for a private meeting. 
 
 At last, with the view of deceiving the husband, Graston 
 pretended to start for Moscow. He disappeared for a couj^le 
 of days, and secretly returned home. The Count, who felt 
 reassured, thereupon relaxed his wakefulness, and the Countess 
 was able to meet her lover on three occasions. She left her 
 carriage before the front entrance of Saint Alexis, entered the 
 church, and leaving it by a side door, tripped lightly away to 
 the rendezvous. The third time, however, an alarm was 
 raised by her footman, who having stealthily followed her, 
 hastened to warn the Count. The latter arrived in a fury at 
 Bligny's residence, but he was obliged to parley with the 
 Duke's valet, a Parsian as wily as Mascarille ; and in the 
 meanwhile the Countess, who was half crazy, implored Graston 
 to find her some means of escape. It was in this emergency 
 that the young man's nervous vigour fully revealed itself. 
 His bathroom, on the ground-floor, looked on to the court- 
 ard of an adjoining house, but the window was protected 
 with iron bars. However, by a powerful effort of his dis- 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 75 
 
 tended muscles, Gaston instantly tore one of tliem down, and 
 Madame Woreseff was able to pass through, and escape. A 
 few seconds later, when the Count was introduced into the 
 presence of Bligny, who had assumed a peaceful, smiling 
 look, he discovered nothing to justify his suspicions, and was 
 obliged to withdraw and apologise. 
 
 The Count devoured his rage in silence, and contrived to 
 show a calm face to his wife. But a skilful inquiry strength- 
 ened his conviction, and he determined to compel the Duke to 
 fight him. He went to the club, and took the " bank " at 
 the baccarat table. The cards being exhausted, Gaston had 
 just cut a fresh pack, when the Count rudely declined to go on 
 with the game. The Duke coldly asked him for an explana- 
 tion, but he refused to give any, and a provocation followed. 
 
 "Woreseff's conduct was unanimously blamed, but the result 
 he sought for was attained. The duel took place on the 
 morrow, in a little wood of birch- trees. It was a fine frosty 
 morning. The conditions were, pistols, twenty paces, fir*e at 
 wiU. Gaston, who by no means cared to lose his life, showed 
 no generosity whatever to his mistress's husband. As soon 
 as the seconds gave the signal he fired, lodging a bullet in his 
 adversary's stomach. The Count sank on the snow, which 
 was tinted with his blood, but rising on one knee with fero- 
 cious energy, he calmly aimed at Bligny. However, the 
 weakness caused by the loss of blood made his hand tremble, 
 and the ball only slightly wounded the Duke's shoulder. 
 
 The Count survived his terrible wound. As for Gaston, six 
 weeks afterwards he had resumed his usual life. Singular to 
 state, however. Count Woreseff's bullet seemed to have killed 
 the young Duke's extraordinary luck. Was it the loss of blood 
 that had deranged the happy equilibrium of his faculties ; or, 
 favoured so far, had Gaston ended by wearying Fortune ? At 
 
76 THE ironmaster; 
 
 all events, from that day forward lie ceased to be on good 
 terms -with her. Indeed, lie lost incessantly. His superb 
 assurance departed from bim, and be came to know tbe 
 anxieties of tbe gambler wbo scents a bad card. He no 
 longer flung bis money on _tbe table witb a conqueror's 
 self-confidence, nor looked down upon bis adversaries from 
 tbe beigbt of bis imperturbable serenity. He frequently 
 turned pale now. His fingers nervously beat a tremulous 
 march on the edge of the table. His eyes darkened and 
 retreated under his brows, and his white teeth were for 
 ever gnawing his lips. He had moments of weakness and 
 depression. His perfect bearing of other times was gone, and 
 he would leave the gaming-table at daybreak with his hair 
 disarranged, his necktie awry, and his shirtfront creased and 
 soiled by contact with the green table-covers. 
 
 He thus descended one by one the steps of the capitol up 
 which he had climbed so triumphantly. Much of the money 
 he had won at cards was dissipated, moreover, with frightful 
 rapidity, and at last the Duke became embarrassed. He had 
 to negoeiate loans — a sure sign of coming ruin. This 
 necessity of applying to others for help made him realise his 
 fallen position, and greatly affected him. Formerly he had 
 enjoyed delicious sensations as the sovereign of this world of 
 viveurs. Luck had raised him above all his companions. 
 He was then treated as a master, and was proud of his 
 supremacy. But in an instant his pedestal gave way. On the 
 day he no longer won he ceased to exist for these gamblers. 
 No hush now attended his arrival at the club. He merely 
 gleaned a few shakes of the hand here and there, but no one 
 turned aside from his game. He remained isolated in the 
 midst of groups of people who treated him with indifference, 
 for they had ceased to fear him. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 77 
 
 ITever, however, had his passion for gambling been so 
 intense as in this difficult emergency. He attacked with 
 blind frenzy, instead of calmly calculating his play. In a 
 single night he would lose or win enormous sums. He was 
 no longer the skilled horseman who guides his steed at will, 
 but rather the reckless rider, carried away at a furious gallop 
 by a horse he does not seek to control — the rider who has 
 more chances of breaking his neck than of ever reaching the 
 goal. And in point of fact he did not reach the goal. 
 Besides, casual returns of luck were useless; he did not 
 know how to profit by them. He plunged on like a madman, 
 and speedily lost whatever he won. 
 
 A disaster seemed inevitable when his ambassador saved 
 him, by entrusting him with a mission for the Government in 
 Paris. Gaston's duel with Count Woreseff had caused a very 
 bad impression, and the ambassador thought it advisable that 
 his attache should absent himself for some little time. Accord- 
 ingly he gave him three months' leave. Bligny had not asked 
 for this mission, for in doing so he would have looked like a 
 combatant anxious to forsake the fray, but upon its being 
 offered him he joyfully accepted it. He felt that he was 
 ''used up" at St. Petersburg, and he was anxious to dis- 
 appear, think over the situation, and decide on a plan of 
 future conduct. 
 
 Of all his previous winnings, which had once formed a 
 seemingly inexhaustible treasure, there now only remained to 
 him some fifty thousand francs in hard cash, and with poverty 
 his ideas suddenly underwent a change. In the disorderly 
 fast Kfe he had been leading he had lost all remembrance of 
 Claire ; but now he began to think of his betrothed again. 
 In a delightful mirage, as it were, he seemed to see the calm, 
 quiet drawing-room of the Beaulieu mansion. Claire was 
 
78 THE ironmaster; 
 
 working by the soft lampliglit, and as she leant over her 
 embroidery her beautiful fair hair sparkled with the efful- 
 gence of gold. She was patiently waiting for him, sighing, 
 perhaps; and at the thought he began to love her again, 
 and swore he would for ever renounce the feverish life to 
 which he was indebted for so many bitter joys and so many 
 cruel cares. He reflected that if he had dissipated the rem- 
 nants of a fortune which his father had bequeathed to him. 
 Mademoiselle de BeauKeu was wealthy, and that with the 
 hundred thousand francs a year which her dowry represented, 
 a young household might yet figure presentably. Life was 
 far from being as expensive in Paris as at St. Petersburg, 
 and, besides, the time of folly was over. They would remain 
 for six months in the year on their estates in the country, and 
 devote the larger part of their income to living in proper style 
 in the capital during the winter. 
 
 The Duke imbued himself with these ideas, and felt as 
 if he had become good and tender-hearted again. He found 
 himself another man, and derived delicious enjoyment from 
 this return to the first dreams of his youth. All the way back 
 to Prance he built up charming projects for the future, and, 
 when the train at last drew up under the glass roof of the 
 Northern railway station in Paris, he sprang eagerly on to 
 the platform, joyfully setting foot once more in the city 
 which his heart and his mind had forgotten so long and so 
 grievously. 
 
 It was evening, and he took a childish pleasure in following 
 from the windows of his cab the long vista of the Pue 
 Lafayette, dotted with innumerable gas-lamps. The motion 
 and turmoil of the great city powerfully impressed him. The 
 passers-by seemed gifted with peculiar vivacity and gaiety. 
 The streets were full of noise. Where the Faubourg Mont- 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 79 
 
 martre crossed the Eue Lafayette lie encountered a block of 
 veliicles. The drivers roughly jeered and snarled at one 
 another, and pedestrians, eager to pass, glided under the very 
 heads of the horses. At last the cab started off again, skirted 
 the wall of brown freestone which encloses the gardens of the 
 Eothschild mansion, turned up the Eue du Holder, and then, 
 all on a sudden, the Duke found himseK on the Boulevard. 
 
 The beating of his heart quickened. A number of equi- 
 pages, bound for the Opera, were filing by. Women in 
 elegant opera cloaks, with lace scarfs over their heads, sat 
 back in the roomy landaus. The intermittent flames of the 
 Jabloschkoff electric-lamps, whilst shedding a pale light on the 
 f agade of the theatre, pierced with dark apertures, lent a gleam 
 to the helmets of the municipal guards on horseback, who, 
 shrouded in their cloaks, remained as motionless as statues in 
 the centre of the Place. Here, where so many streets and the 
 Boulevard meet, the traffic and the turmoil were enormous. 
 The shop-fronts blazed out in the darkness, the foot-pave- 
 ments were black with promenaders. 'Twas the magic picture 
 of Paris by night displayed in all its powerful splendour. 
 
 The cab turned into the Eue de la Paix, and a few minutes 
 later Gaston alighted at the door of his club, feeling some- 
 what giddy ; he still seemed to hear the irritating rumble of 
 the train, and his eyes were dazed by the light. Tired out, 
 he went up-stairs to the room prepared for him, and slept 
 without waking tiU the following morning. 
 
 The Duke had not been absent from Paris sufficiently long 
 to lose his boulevardian habits, and he felt quite at home 
 when he set foot on the asphalte once more. His flashy 
 Eussian varnish immediately melted away, and he felt himseK 
 a Parisian again from head to foot. For a couple of days, 
 however, he yielded to the fascination of the city. He strolled 
 
80 THE ironmaster; 
 
 up tlie Champs Elysee and promenaded in the Bois; he 
 lounged at the Hotel Drouot, sauntered from the Madeleine 
 to the Boulevard Montmartre, delighted to shake hands with 
 the friends he met and raise his hat to his acquaintances. He 
 patronised the little theatres, leaning back with a delightful 
 sensation of beatitude on the narrow, badly-stuffed stalls. 
 He looked even on idiotic pieces as exquisite, and the content 
 which filled him was ever overflowing in admiration. The 
 fact is, he had, so to speak, regained his liberty since leaving 
 Russia. He was like a ticket- of -leave man who has placed 
 himself beyond surveillance, like a convict escaped from the 
 penitentiary. He was free now, and he breathed again. 
 
 His business at the Foreign Ofiice was concluded in three 
 days, and he decided he would leave Paris at the end of the 
 week. He knew that Claire and the Marchioness were at 
 Beaulieu, and he wished to surprise them. He pictured their 
 astonishment, and seemed to hear their joyful exclamations. 
 For nothing in the world would he have renounced the pleasure 
 of coming upon them unawares. 
 
 He strolled one day up the Eue de la Paix to purchase of 
 Bassot, the family jeweller, an admirable betrothal ring — a 
 large sapphire surrounded by brilliants, and set with rare 
 perfection. He saw himself offering the white velvet case to 
 Claire ; and she opened it, smiling softly, and handed him the 
 golden circlet, so that he might himself slip it over her tapering 
 linger, tipped with a rosy nail. Then it would be really decided 
 that he should be her husband ; the ring would be the first 
 link in the chain that was to unite them. 
 
 As the Duke returned from the theatre on the eve of his 
 departure, he found the club far more animated than usual, 
 and on inquiring he learnt that all the movement, the display, 
 and the illumination were caused by a theatrical performance 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 81 
 
 wMch. was to be given in the Salle des Fetes. A distinguished 
 audience had assembled to witness L* Education de la Prin- 
 cesse, a two -act operetta, due to the collaboration of two 
 talented amateurs — the Due de Feras for the words, and M. 
 Jules Trelan for the music. The display of vocal and histrionic 
 talent promised to be remarkable. Baron, of the Yarietes, 
 lent his innate distinction to the role of the Grand Chamber- 
 lain ; Daubray, of the Palais Eoyal Theatre, figured as that 
 questionable personage the Chevalier Alphonse de Eoufla- 
 quette; Saint-Germain, of the Gymnase, had consented, for 
 that occasion only, to reveal himself as a great vocaKst in 
 the part of Pepinster ; young Baron Tresorier, a member of 
 the club who possessed a charming tenorino voice, had been 
 entrusted with the role of Triolet ; Madame Judic appeared as 
 the Princess Hortensia ; and Suzanne Lagier as the Queen- 
 mother. 
 
 A formidable success was expected. The footmen on duty 
 hardly knew which way to turn, for every one arrived at the 
 same moment in order to secure good places. From the vast 
 vestibule, adorned with Louis Quatorze tapestry, there came 
 a murmur of voices and a rustling of dresses smoothed by 
 dainty hands, with puifs of warm air saturated with the scent 
 of powder d. la marechale. 
 
 Instead of going up-stairs to bed, the Duke handed his over- 
 coat to an attendant, and flattening his crush-hat entered the 
 Salle des Fetes. An apparently futile circumstance often 
 modifies a man's destiny, but BKgny, in going to witness 
 the performance of V Education de la Princesse, certainly had 
 no idea of the great change he was about to effect in his 
 future. 
 
 The Salle des Fetes was brilliant with illumination. There 
 was already a large audience seated in comfortable rows of 
 
82 THE ironmaster; 
 
 chairs. Satin, velvet, gauze, and silk, and tlie whole scale of 
 vivid colours, with beautiful fair shoulders resplendent in their 
 alabaster whiteness, were all here. The flutter of fans lent 
 a winglike motion to the assemblage. A subdued buzz of 
 conversation arose from time to time when some well-known 
 personage entered the hall, at the end of which was the silent 
 stage, concealed from view by its red curtain. 
 
 The Duke walked towards a group of gentlemen in evening 
 dress, among whom he recognised several friends. Maitre 
 Escande, a young notary, heir of a millionaire family, and 
 who had but recently been invested with his legal functions, 
 was superbly attitudinising in the centre of the throng. He 
 was dressed with irreproachable elegance, and was speaking 
 with an important air, but as he caught sight of Bligny his 
 tongue seemed to cleave to his palate, and he remained with 
 open mouth gazing half stupefied at the Duke, who approached 
 with a smiling face. A moment's silence followed, only broken 
 by the exclamation, ^'Oh! what a pity!" raised in a com- 
 passionate tone by a tall bald-headed man, wearing a dress- 
 coat the cut of which plainly indicated that its owner was 
 some retired merchant. This individual had a very red face, 
 and very large ears surmounted by tufts of yellowish hair. 
 His neck was imprisoned in a tall white cravat, and his shirt- 
 front was adorned with diamond studs, while on his feet he 
 wore a pair of polished leather shoes, cut low in front so as to 
 disclose a strip of his white cotton socks. 
 
 Bligny had reached the group, and after shaking hands 
 with his friends he remained waiting, puzzling his mind as to 
 the cause of this extremely eloquent silence. He was about 
 to ask what the matter was, and why his presence made every 
 one else seem so uncomfortable, when the old man with the 
 diamond studs, leaning towards one of Gaston's friends, asked 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 83 
 
 in an under tone, but loud enough to be overheard, so that a 
 refusal would be out of the question, '' Pray introduce me to 
 the Duke!" 
 
 The individual he had spoken to turned towards Graston 
 with an air of mingled annoyance and surprise, as much as to 
 say, ''What strange fancy has come over this old bore"? 
 However, as there was no help for it, he resignedly ex- 
 claimed, ''My dear Duke, Monsieur Moulinet." 
 
 " Manufacturer," quickly added the man with the diamond 
 studs, "formerly judge of the Tribunal of Commerce." And 
 then, taking hold of Gaston's hand, he resumed, with a defe- 
 rential air, "I have the honour of knowing your family, 
 Monsieur le Due. Mademoiselle Moulinet, my daughter, was 
 educated at the same convent as Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, 
 your cousin. Yes, monsieur, at the 'Sacred Heart,' the first 
 educational establishment in Paris. But then I was never 
 niggardly with Athenais. I have always thought that the 
 best things were not good enough for her. Ah ! I beg you to 
 believe that I deeply regret the sad news " 
 
 For a moment or so Maitre Escande, the young notary, had 
 been wriggling in the most singular fashion, at the risk of 
 crumpling his shirt-front or disarranging the artistic bow of 
 his cravat. His arms moved like semaphores, he stamped 
 impatiently, and coughed "hem, hem" almost without cessa- 
 tion. But Moulinet was either too well launched to stop, or 
 else he was determined not to heed the notary's gesticulations, 
 as what subsequently happened would seem to show. At all 
 events, he still continued pouring forth his compliments of 
 condolence. 
 
 "Excuse me," said the Duke, knitting his brow, "but I 
 don't quite understand. You are speaking, monsieur, of some 
 sad news which seems to touch my family, and especially 
 
84 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu. I have no notion what you mean. 
 Pray be more explicit." 
 
 Maitre Escande seemed greatly worried, and as Moulinet 
 remained silent with downcast eyes, the young notary gathered 
 up his courage, and approaching Bligny said, in a solemn 
 tone, '' Mon Dieu, my dear Duke, I am sorry you should learn 
 what Monsieur Moulinet has been alluding to this evening, 
 and in a place like this, so unfitted for the communication of 
 such news. But as you would certainly be apprised of it 
 to-morrow, there is perhaps no reason why you should not be 
 enlightened on the spot. Well, when you came in, I was 
 telling these gentlemen that when I was in London a couple 
 of days ago I learnt that the lawsuit commenced by the late 
 Marquis de Beaulieu, and continued by his heirs, had just 
 been lost by them beyond power of appeal." 
 
 This unexpected revelation made the Duke turn pale. The 
 loss of this lawsuit, in the success of which Madame de Beau- 
 lieu had placed such hopes, meant that Claire was ruined. 
 However, Gaston made an effort, and mastering his emotion 
 haughtily rejoined, ''I must say I am astonished at the readi- 
 ness with which you communicated matters interesting the 
 Beaulieu family to these gentlemen. I did not think that the 
 affairs of my relatives were of a nature to serve as gossip 
 and tittle-tattle for unconcerned idlers. I should feel obliged 
 if you would show yourself rather more circumspect in the 
 future." 
 
 On hearing this the young notary became extremely pale, 
 and a number of little wrinkles, caused by the agitated state 
 of his nerves, overspread his puffy face. He shook his head 
 and breathed hard, and then in a wounded tone began, '' But, 
 my dear Duke, pray don't think " 
 
 '*I think what is proper," interrupted Bligny curtly, and 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 85 
 
 after taking the notary's measure witli a glance lie slowly 
 walked away, followed by his friends in silence. 
 
 Moulinet and Escande had remained together, and for a 
 moment they looked at each other without speaking. But at 
 last, with a smile which strangely resembled a grimace, the 
 manufacturer exclaimed, ' ' Quick-blooded men, these Blignys I 
 You were speedily silenced, eh ! my dear maitre ? And I had 
 my own share in it too. But no matter, fine blood and no 
 mistake. He's ruined, isn't he ? " 
 
 " Euined I I should think so," said the notary with disdain. 
 ''And yet he plays the high and mighty lord, lays down the 
 law, and gives lessons " 
 
 " Quite so. Do you see, my dear fellow, in spite of revolu- 
 tions, we shall never be these folks' equals. Why, even this 
 ruined Duke will be an advantageous husband for a wealthy 
 girl." 
 
 Three solemn raps, resounding at intervals on the stage, 
 interrupted their conversation. Escande and Moulinet sat 
 down. The Duke had found a vacant place some little dis- 
 tance off. The orchestra struck up the overture, and the har- 
 monious melody of a brilliant waltz expanded with delightful 
 rhythm. Although Bligny seemed attentive, he was in reality 
 seriously reflecting. Claire's ruin was a thunderbolt calcu- 
 lated to wreck his future. He was betrothed to Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu, and she was now poor. To Graston's praise, it 
 must be admitted that he did not once think of repudiating 
 his engagements. The idea that he might marry some other 
 woman never occurred to him. He considered himself abso- 
 lutely bound. The white velvet case, stamped with the 
 coupled escutcheons of Bligny and Beaulieu, and containing 
 the betrothal ring, was in his pocket near his heart ; but he was 
 far more surely bound by his word than by the golden circlet. 
 
86 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 And yet Claire's ruin meant impoverislied circumstances 
 for life. He would have to shut himself up in some country- 
 chateau, and vegetate like a bearish gentleman farmer, never 
 inviting a friend for fear of the expense a visit would entail. 
 Tor handsome, fascinating, courted Graston this implied burial 
 in the heydey of life. He bitterly regretted having dissipated 
 the enormous sums he had won at play. However tainted 
 the source that money had been derived from, it was money 
 still ; and life without money in this positive century, when 
 men are only estimated at their pecuniary value, was not life 
 at all. Then he felt touched on thinking of the grief Claire 
 and her mother would feel when they learned the fatal news. 
 They were still ignorant of it, no doubt, since that fool Escande 
 had just brought it fresh from England. Gaston would have 
 liked to expedite his journey, so as to be sooner by the side 
 of these poor women, and soften the blow and console them. 
 
 Meanwhile the curtain had risen, revealing a gay and 
 smiling scene. A band of reapers of either sex appeared in a 
 sunshiny landscape, and to a rattling hourree^' tune they sang 
 at the top of their voices — 
 
 ' ' Sing, pretty maids, 
 Eeap, handsome swains, 
 Your sickles raise 
 To the gay refrains ! " 
 
 Eeeble as the words were, they seemed to inspire the Duke 
 with a fresh strain of thought. He pictured himself with 
 Claire at Beaulieu under the blue sky. The reapers were 
 singing among the corn, and sultry heat rose from the ground. 
 A sensation of delightful languor stole over him. In the 
 company of her he loved he felt supremely happy, and gave 
 no thought to poverty. It seemed such profound calm, such 
 « The houirie is the popular dance of Auvergne.— rraws. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 87 
 
 sweet peacefulness after tlie storms of Ms short life as a viveur ! 
 He enjoyed it thoroughly, and in the modest circumstances to 
 which Claire's ruin condemned him he divined captivating 
 delight such as he had never before known. 
 
 On the stage the performance was progressing, and the 
 Chevalier Alphonse de Eouflaquette was singing his grand 
 duo with the Princess. Judic's mellow, caressing voice was 
 murmuring with passionate ardour— 
 
 " Oh ! come ! I renounce all my grandeur for thee, 
 Let's fly from my court, and my palace forsake ! " — 
 
 Whereupon Daubray, curling his *' knockers," responded with 
 a killing glance — 
 
 " Nay, grandeur and love rightly mated may be ; 
 So keep all your wealth and your power for me, 
 Ay, keep them for Alphonse' s sake ! " 
 
 The favourite artiste crowned his phrase with a vocal flourish 
 •which elicited thunders of applause. Indeed the JEducation 
 de la Princesse announced itself as a great success, and the 
 lessee of the Varietes, who looked very much absorbed, was 
 thinking of trying this little '* machine"*' at his own place 
 during the ensuing winter. 
 
 In the meanwhile Moulinet leant back in his chair and 
 nodded his head like a bear listening to a flute player. He 
 had no inclination to follow the adventures of the Princess 
 Hortensia. He was far more interested in another princess — 
 his daughter, the raven-haired Athena is. He saw her again 
 as she was at the convent, a little girl wearing ill- made shoes 
 
 * In French theatrical parlance an opera, an operetta, a vaudeville, a 
 tragedy, a drama, or a comedy is invariably styled a "machine." Mr. 
 Grenville Murray has humourously noted this in his "High Life in 
 JFrance." — Trans. 
 
88 THE ironmaster; 
 
 and a dress too short for her, with red hands, a plain, shape- 
 less face, and an angular, gawky figure, as yet undeveloped. 
 She came to the parlour in the midst of her elegantly attired 
 companions, who looked down on her disdainfully. He was 
 not a rich man in those days, old Moulinet ; he had not then 
 founded his great chocolate works at Yillepinte, nor invented 
 those prospectuses on blue paper, couched in a travelling 
 dentist's style, which had since made his products known 
 even in the smallest villages of Erance. He was, in fact, 
 simply a wholesale dealer in ''colonial produce," and the 
 noble mothers of Athenais's companions did not conceal their 
 astonishment that this grocer's daughter should have been 
 admitted as a boarder to the convent. He had heard all about 
 the little class-room intrigues. He knew how arrogantly the 
 other girls had treated his daughter, and he recollected that 
 it was proud Mademoiselle de Beaulieu who had led the coterie 
 of the nobles, as it was called. 
 
 How many times, indeed, he had heard Athena is speak 
 angrily of her enemy — swearing with tears in her eyes that 
 she would be revenged. And vengeance had come, without 
 need of being prepared. Athena'is Moulinet was now one of 
 the richest heiresses in Paris, while proud Claire de Beaulieu 
 was dowerless. The grocer's daughter, habituated to luxury, 
 dressed by Worth, and with her hair becomingly arranged, 
 had lost all her whilom gawkiness, become transformed as it 
 were ; and illumined by an aureole of millions, she was consi- 
 dered to be one of the best-looking girls of the upper middle- 
 class. The Marchioness's daughter, clad in a simple woollen 
 dress, would have to live in the provinces, disappear into 
 obscurity, and perhaps — ^who knew? — she might even miss 
 the marriage so long prepared for her. 
 
 The Due de BKgny, such a brilliant nobleman, bearing 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 89 
 
 sucli a beautiful name ! Often, wlien tlie young Duke came 
 with, his aunt, the Marchioness, to visit Claire at the convent, 
 Athenais had turned pale with rage on seeing them side by 
 side. She divined that they were intended for each, other. 
 Claire would become a duchess, whilst she, Athenais, would 
 marry some notary, an Escande, or a tradesman like her 
 father, and bear her husband sons and daughters destined to 
 be humiliated and looked down upon. 
 
 At this thought a proud smile came over Moulinet's face. 
 He leant back farther still, and thrusting his band into one of 
 his pockets, jingled some silver coins. ''And why should 
 that be ? " he muttered. '* Don't my means allow me to buy 
 h.er any husband she pleases ? " So saying, he turned round 
 with a grave expression on his face, and, gazing at th.e elegant 
 assemblage, seemed to be seeking for the son-in-law who 
 would best please him. Standing on the pedestal of his 
 millions nothing appeared impossible to h.im. Who would 
 be audacious enough to refuse Athenais, holding a blank 
 cbeque in her hand ? A count or a marquis ? Wliat sum 
 would buy him ? He had only to name his figure. Moulinet 
 could give his daughter a million of francs, or ten millions if 
 lie pleased. To auction, the husband ! The father was rich 
 enough to buy his daughter a prince ! 
 
 As he followed this train of thought his glance became bold 
 and almost threatening; it strayed vaguely over all these 
 unknown faces, and at last fell on Bligny. The young man 
 looked gloomy, and Moulinet said to himself, -''He is think- 
 ing of bis cousin." The chocolate manufacturer felt greatly 
 irritated at this idea, but why ? "What were these confused 
 fancies stealing over him ? He could not explain them him- 
 self, and yet the semblance of a project was already dawning 
 in his mind. 
 
 a 
 
90 THE ironmaster; 
 
 At this moment tliere was a great stir in the hall. The 
 curtain had just fallen on the finish of the first act, and in the 
 midst of the applause and the calls for various performers, 
 the Duke had risen, accompanied hy his friends, and was 
 walking with an indifferent air towards the door. For a 
 moment Moulinet remained watching him, half undecided, 
 and then suddenly leaving his seat he started off in the same 
 direction as Bligny. 
 
 The fete had by no means interrupted the gambling on the 
 second floor. The rooms reserved for play were well-nigh as 
 quiet as usual; the refrains of the operetta being wafted 
 merely as a vague murmur to the ears of the gamblers. 
 Nothing had been able to turn them from their customary 
 pastime. They knew that something very amusing was being 
 performed down-stairs, but what did they care for it ? Their 
 pleasure was here, on this horse-shoe table, under the burning 
 gas which heated their brains. On the floor below, elegant 
 and beautiful women, sweet scented and arranged in bewitch- 
 ing toilettes, were grouped together like bouquets of flowers. 
 The gamblers gave them no thought, however. They found 
 the Queen of Spades and the Queen of Hearts a hundred 
 times more attractive ; and, insensible to the charms of the 
 fete, deaf to the voices of the singers and the joyous strains 
 of the orchestra, they remained up-stairs in a heavy, enervating 
 atmosphere, flinging their money on the tapis vert. 
 
 As the Duke listlessly strolled about without aim or pur- 
 pose, he unwittingly reached the card-rooms. Was it Fate that 
 brought him once more, after all his fine resolutions, to the 
 edge of the gaming table? At all events, as the banker 
 exclaimed: '* Gentlemen, make your game," Gaston drew a 
 thousand franc note from his pocket and carelessly flung it on 
 the table. He won. ' ' Dear me ! " he exclaimed with no little 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 91 
 
 surprise, for Fortune now seldom favoured him, and curious 
 to ascertain if Ids luck would last, lie installed himself in a 
 vacant chair. At that same moment Moulinet entered the 
 card-room. It was the first time he had ever set foot there. 
 He held all games of chance in horror on principle ; and if 
 ever he touched a card it was only in view of conquering luck 
 by skill. He thus willingly played at besique. As for 
 whist it was above his comprehension. However, he now 
 approached the baccarat table, and on perceiving that Gaston 
 had left his hundred louis on the tapis, he gravely laid 
 a ten franc piece beside them. Plainly enough Moulinet 
 was anxious to have an opportunity of watching the Duke, 
 and, desirous of avoiding apparei^t indiscretion, he secured 
 this opportunity by risking a trifle on his own account. The 
 chocolate manufacturer believed in useful concessions on 
 matters of principle. 
 
 The game continued, but luck had changed. It seemed as 
 if the virtuous manufacturer's ten francs had broken the 
 charm. Bligny, pale with rage, and again mastered by his 
 passion, furiously produced his lost bank notes, whilst Mouli- 
 net, who disdained winning, placidly continued staking a ten 
 franc piece. At daybreak, when the game ceased for want of 
 players, the Duke had last some forty thousand francs. Mou- 
 linet, sufficiently edified as to the fate of Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu's betrothed, had long since been peacefully snoring 
 in his superb mansion on the Boulevard Malesherbes. 
 
 At the hour when Gaston ought to have taken the train for 
 Beaulieu he went up-stairs into his bedroom, feeling fever- 
 ishly enervated. Leaning on the rail in front of the open 
 window, he watched the matutinal street sweepers already at 
 work in the Rue de la Paix. The clear sky was tinted with 
 the roseate flush of Aurora, and the fresh air speedily revived 
 
92- THE ironmaster; OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 
 
 Mm. " I was very foolish last night," lie muttered to him- 
 self, *^ but I'll start this evening. To the deuce with bacca- 
 rat! " He thereupon changed his clothes, went down-stairs, 
 hailed a cab, and gave orders to be driven to the Bois de 
 Boulogne. In the evening, however, he failed to start for 
 Beaulieu. He repaired to the gaming table again. 
 
 Meanwhile, Claire, strong in her confidence and unchanging 
 in her love, was waiting for the return of her betrothed. 
 
Y. 
 
 On the evening of tlie day wlien Baclielin came to Beaulien 
 with the sad news that the lawsuit had been lost, and that 
 Gaston was sojourning in Paris, the Marchioness, still griev- 
 ously affected by these hard blows, sat meditating in her cosy 
 arm-chair in the grand drawing-room facing the terrace. 
 She was deeply absorbed, and the expression of her counte- 
 nance indicated that her thoughts were painful ones. How- 
 ever, she was roused from her sorrowful reverie by her son 
 abruptly entering the room. She started on perceiving him, 
 and gave him an anxious look as if she had expected some 
 fresh misfortune, but noting the calm expression of his eyes 
 and the quiet smile on his lips, she heaved a sigh of relief and 
 asked : ' ' What is the matter ? " 
 
 ''Our cousins, the Prefonts, are arriving, mother," the 
 young man answered. '' The carriage has just passed through 
 the gates and is coming up the avenue." 
 
 In the stillness of the evening, the noise of wheels grating 
 on the gravel was distinctly audible, and the Marchioness at 
 once rose. Always chilly, she covered her head with a lace 
 scarf, and wrapped her shawl around her. Then, crossing 
 the broad paved vestibule, hung with old figured tapestry, 
 and adorned with cabinets in carved pear- wood, she advanced 
 to the steps, in front of which the carriage had just drawn up, 
 after artistically whisking round the sweep. A laughing face. 
 
fdi THE ironmaster; 
 
 crowned by a toque trimmed with the plumage of the lopho- 
 phorus, peeped out of the window. A gloved hand was 
 waved excitedly, and a full fresh voice exclaimed: ''Good 
 day, good day, all of you ! " 
 
 The young Marquis had already reached the vehicle. A 
 hurricane of silk swept out; a dainty bronze-leather boot, 
 surmounted by a grey silk stocking, showing a well-shaped 
 ankle to advantage, was poised for one moment on the 
 carriage step ; and then the Baronne de Pref ont in person 
 darted into the Marchioness's arms, embracing her and jerkily 
 exclaiming: ''Ah! my dear aunt! How pleased I am! 
 
 Ah ! my good aunt ! How long it is And you, my dear 
 
 friends?" 
 
 Thereupon she lovingly threw herself into the arms of 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, intermingling vivacious exclama- 
 tions with affectionate caresses : " My dear Claire ! It seems 
 a century since I saw you ! " IS'ext she unhesitatingly passed 
 to Octave, allowing him to kiss her on both cheeks ; after 
 which she shook hands with him in the English, style — laugh- 
 ing all the while, making her dress rustle with her sprightly 
 movements, pausing every now and then in her cries of satis- 
 faction so as to regain breath, and taking the whole chateau 
 and its inmates by storm with her affectionate, overflowing 
 joy. All on a sudden, however, she became serious, and 
 eagerly asked : " Ah ! good gracious me, what has become of 
 my husband ? " And looking anxiously around her she added: 
 " Have I lost him already? " 
 
 "Here I am, dear," answered a soft voice; "I was 
 patiently waiting for the end of your effusions to pay my 
 respects in my turn." At the same moment a young man of 
 thirty or thereabouts, dressed in a sober-looking travelling 
 suit, with a courier-bag hanging at his side, stepped forward. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 95 
 
 :and with, quiet, smiling politeness approached the Marchioness 
 and Claire. 
 
 '^WeU, well, pay your respects," petulantly exclaimed the 
 Baroness. " There that'll do. Now pray go and see after 
 my luggage. Be particularly careful about my large black 
 bonnet-box. I hold you responsible for it on your head." 
 
 *'Yes, dear," replied the Baron quietly, and, turning to 
 Octave, who had approached to shake hands: '' nineteen 
 trunks and boxes, my dear feUow," he added with a smile of 
 resignation. ''Six hundredweight of extra luggage! I 
 really believe my wife carries artillery about with her." 
 
 As the ladies now entered the drawing-room the Baroness 
 leant towards Madame de Beaulieu, and, raising her eyes 
 above, hurriedly whispered : ^'Ah! my dear aunt, what a 
 deal we have to tell each other." Then pressing the Mar- 
 chioness's hand with emotion : '' You know that we love you, 
 and that nothing that concerns you can be regarded with 
 indifference by us " 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu glanced at Claire, who had already 
 pricked up her ears and become attentive, perceiving which 
 the Baroness resumed : "Yes, I know. However, my husband 
 win tell you everything." Then darting up to Claire she 
 observed, as though seeking to efface the effect of her impru- 
 dent words, ''You know we are going to Switzerland, dear? 
 But we did not like to pass so near Beaulieu without coming 
 to see you. "We shall remain here for a few days and then 
 start off by road. We shall reach Switzerland by the pass of 
 Yerrieres. Ah ! our poor army of the East ! « The Baron was 
 wounded at Joux in the last combat between our rearguard 
 
 and that terrible Werder's men So, you understand, it's a 
 
 pilgrimage for me. My husband behaved like a hero ! Of 
 
 the two hundred men his company counted — poor, suffering, 
 
96 THE ironmaster; 
 
 frost-bitten fellows — there were only eighty left after the 
 
 engagement. And they didn't decorate him ! It's true 
 
 we are Legitimists Ah ! what an abominable government, 
 
 my friends ! And, hereabouts, do folks think that Gambetta 
 will consent to become prime minister? " 
 
 Thus did the little Baroness rattle on, smiling and animated, 
 as talkative as a parrot, at one moment even dramatic, but 
 passing swiftly from one subject to the other, regardless of 
 all transition, although she employed a surprising variety of 
 language. She seemed, as it were, a living kaleidoscope, 
 instantly changing in aspect and effect. The Marchioness 
 and Claire became astonished and bewildered as they listened 
 to her. In the quiet calm of their country life they had 
 grown grave and thoughtful, and the animation of this noisy, 
 airy Parisienne imparted a sensation of vertigo. 
 
 Without waiting for any answer to her question tho 
 Baroness crossed the drawing-room, and approaching a 
 window whence the view extended far over the shadowy 
 valley, from the depth of which rose the tall chimneys of the 
 ironworks launching a fiery glow into the darkness, she 
 clapped her hands with childish admiration and exclaimed : 
 " How beautiful ! It looks like an opera scene ! Ah, nature, 
 
 nature ! How happy you are, to be able to live in the 
 
 midst of the fields and woods ! What a beautiful life, and 
 how it preserves one ! Look at me, aunt, and compare me 
 with Claire. We are of the same age, and yet I look as if I 
 
 were her mother ! It's all the fault of the dinners and 
 
 visiting, the balls and the theatres. We fade away in the 
 whirl of Parisian life ; and so much pleasure becomes perfect 
 toil. You are smiling, aunt? Perhaps you think that we 
 might manage differently, my husband and I, and spend four 
 months a year at our place in Burgundy Perhaps so, but 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 97 
 
 I hardly see tiie way. Tlie Baron, wlio is a learned man, 
 needs to reside in the capital for the sake of its intellectual 
 life. He has his Academy of Sciences and all his solemn 
 
 societies there Ah ! heavens. That Academy, how it 
 
 affects my nerves ! As for myself I've a thousand duties 
 
 to attend to, which I can't possibly neglect — social connec- 
 tions to keep up, charitable societies to promote and manage — 
 And then there's my little girl, whom I can't always leave 
 with her governess. So when we have been for a couple 
 of months at the seaside, a couple of months touring, and a 
 
 couple of months at Nice — you see what remains Ah ! it's 
 
 an extenuating life I can assure you. But suppose we sat 
 down ! " 
 
 And darting like a hurricane between Madame de Beaulieu 
 and Claire, the Baroness ensconced herself in the cosy arm- 
 chair, which was the Marchioness's favourite. '' There," she 
 said. ''Now talk to me about yourselves. What do you do 
 here ? How do you occupy your time ? And Octave ? And 
 
 your neighbour, the ironmaster ? You see I remember 
 
 what you write to me about. Heavens ! what would become 
 of one if one hadn't a little memory ? " 
 
 Seating herself comfortably in the roomy arm-chair the 
 Baroness gently closed her eyes and prepared to listen atten- 
 tively to her aunt and cousin. There was a moment's silence, 
 and then almost without transition, as a bird after warbling its 
 last note falls asleep at the edge of its nest, our Parisienne, 
 who was no doubt really fatigued by her journey, let her head 
 fall back gently on to the antimacassar of old guipure, and 
 the faint sound of breathing that escaped from between her 
 parted lips showed she was giving way to sleep. The Mar- 
 chioness and Claire exchanged a good-natured smile, and, 
 taking up their work, prepared to wait till this charming 
 
9« THE ironmaster; 
 
 woman, wlio liad remained in many respects so childisli, woke 
 up again. 
 
 The Baronne de Prefont, 7iee Sophie d'Hennecourt — How 
 ironical names sometimes are ! '' Sophie," applicable to 
 wisdom, bestowed on such a madcap — was the only daughter 
 of one of the late Marquis de Beaulieu's sisters. She had 
 been educated at the same convent as Claire, where she had 
 formed part of the aristocratic clan which so persecuted the 
 girls belonging to the middle classes. Thus she had become 
 well acquainted with M. Moulinet's daughter. Gifted with 
 an angel's heart, but having no more brains than a bird, she 
 spent her time striving to repair, by dint of kindliness, all the 
 harm she wrought in ever-recurring moments of thoughtless- 
 ness. It happened that she had in no small degree contri- 
 tributed to increase the hatred which Athenais had vowed 
 against Mademoiselle de Beaulieu. It was she, indeed, who 
 as soon as Mademoiselle Moulinet reached the convent sur- 
 named her '' Little Cocoa ; " and as a battle royal was on the 
 point of being fought by these schoolgirls of thirteen, it was 
 Claire, the strongest and most reasonable, who with a tinge 
 of haughtiness stayed the combat. Such was Athenais's 
 nature, however, that she felt more irritated against Claire 
 for intervening, than against Sophie for attacking her. Be- 
 sides, Mademoiselle de Beaulieu overawed her companions bj'- 
 her precocious firmness of character. She was, so to say, the 
 incarnation of this aristocratic set which made life so hard for 
 M. Moulinet's daughter ; and by reason of her very superiority 
 she became the object of all Athenais's spite. The truth is 
 that Claire personally never did anything intentionally to 
 wound Athenais, but their natures were naturally hostile. 
 Everything in connection with this patrician damsel offended 
 or hurt her sensitive schoolfellow of the middle classes, even 
 
OB, LOVE AND PRIDE. 99 
 
 tlie elegance of her figure and the whiteness of her hands, 
 the crest on her note paper and the gloves she wore during 
 play time. 
 
 Claire and her friends were in the habit of saying ''thou" 
 and ''thee" to one another; and Athenais at once followed 
 their example, whereupon some terrible discussions ensued in 
 this miniature world. Sophie d'Hennecourt, especially, was 
 quite exasperated, and persistently addressed the chocolate 
 manufacturer's daughter as "you." Claire, however, laughed 
 at what she considered a puerile distinction, and thou'd and 
 thee'd Athenais as much as she did the other girls.* But 
 Mademoiselle Moulinet thereupon resented Claire's familiarity 
 as an insult. Although Claire pretended not to notice her 
 hostility, it by no means escaped her. In spite of herself, 
 perhaps, her disdain for Athenais was increased. 
 
 In the meantime, a bitter warfare was waged incessantly 
 between Mademoiselle d'Hennecourt and "Little Cocoa." 
 One day, as Sophie returned froln seeing some relatives in 
 the parlour, she entered the playground carrying a bag of 
 chocolate sweetmeats, which she offered to all her companions. 
 Athenais' s turn came at last, and Sophie approached her with 
 seeming graciousness and held out the bag so that she might 
 help herself. " Will you have some ? " she asked in a 
 honeyed voice ; and then, as Athenais haK hesitated, she added 
 
 * All readers conversant with the French language will remember that 
 this is a constant practice among relatives and friends in France— as 
 much among those of the masculine sex as among girls and women. 
 However, in translation into English, it is impossible to render ** thou" 
 and "thee" otherwise than as "you." Among us, Quakers alone use 
 the former pronouns in ordinary conversation. It is true that English 
 Protestants address the Divinity as "Thou ; " whereas French Catholics, 
 who, in this instance, invariably say "You," are grievously shocked, 
 for, to their minds, the thee-and-thou-ing of the Creator is scandalously 
 irreverent. — Trans. 
 
100 THE ironmaster; 
 
 with deliberate irony, ''Oh, you needn't fear for the conse- 
 quences. They don't come from your place, but froi^i 
 Marquis's." Mademoiselle Moulinet turned pale with rage, 
 and snatching the bag from Sophie's hand, she flung it against 
 a window, which broke with a crash, the pane of glass falling 
 in fragments on the sandy court. A tussle ensued, in the 
 course of which Athena is was almost pushed down, when one 
 of her hands came in contact with a bit of glass and was 
 rather badly cut. Excessive rage and the fear of seeing her 
 blood flow had such an effect upon her system that she 
 positively fainted away ; whereupon Sophie, whose good 
 heart at once gained the upper hand, caught her in her arms, 
 and helped to take her to the school infirmary — at the same 
 time weeping and blaming herself for having caused this 
 misfortune. 
 
 Thenceforward the scene changed. Athenais openly placed 
 herself at the head of the girls of the middle classes, and the 
 playground was divided into two camps— that of the juvenile 
 aristocrats, and that of the moneyed damsels without handles 
 to their names. However, as these girls grew up their quarrels 
 assumed a more underhand character, evincing better acquaint- 
 ance with the usages of society. They no longer scratched 
 each other with their finger nails, but relied on their tongues 
 to wound and hurt one another. Although Claire, more 
 haughty and disdainful than ever, remained seemingly aloof, 
 taking no part in the warfare, she was none the less bitterly 
 execrated. There was a covert struggle waging between her- 
 self and Athenais. It was evident that Mademoiselle Moulinet 
 was Mademoiselle de Beaulieu's personal antagonist, and, to 
 say the truth, they were fairly matched. 
 
 Father Moulinet was then engaged in amassing a colossal 
 fortune. People pretended that he had discovered a means 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 101 
 
 of making vanilla out of coal, and that in preparing Ms 
 chocolate he used burnt almonds instead of cocoa. It was 
 reported that this alimentary chemistry yielded him immense 
 profit, and thus he was beginning to rank as a financial 
 notability in the world of Paris. He had, moreover, just 
 received his appointment as one of the judges of the Tribunal 
 of Commerce, and whenever he was spoken of his friends 
 nodded their heads gravely and remarked : '^ He's a wonder- 
 fully clever man." On his side, jovial Moulinet, one of whose 
 characteristics was a surprising familiarity of language, will- 
 ingly observed: ''Ah! the old boy (meaning himself) has 
 a long purse." He was, indeed, exceedingly vulgar, but by 
 no means an evil-minded individual. He readily did any one 
 a good turn when he thought he might himself reap some 
 advantage from it. On the other hand, although extremely 
 desirous of enlarging his circle of acquaintances, he warily 
 gave all black sheep the go-by.. He always looked above and 
 never below him, and had thus succeeded in steadily climbing 
 higher and higher up the social ladder. 
 
 One fine day he drove up to the Convent of the Sacred 
 Heart in an admirable landau drawn by a pair of horses, and 
 on reaching the parlour had his daughter sent for. The 
 result was that Athenais left the convent. She was then six- 
 teen years of age. On the following Sunday, in the Bois de 
 Boulogne, her companions perceived her seated in her father's 
 superb carriage, and she smiled on them and eagerly recog- 
 nised them from afar, as if particularly anxious to bow to 
 them from 'Such a stylish turn-out. A few months later Sophie 
 and Claire also returned home, and the convent warfare ceased 
 for want of combatants. 
 
 But hatred was still rife in Mademoiselle Moulinet' s heart, 
 and she kept her eyes on her rivals. From her box on the 
 
102 THE ironmaster; 
 
 second row, which, her father had with difficulty secured for 
 the season at the Grand Opera House, she angrily watched 
 Mesdemoiselles d'Hennecourt and de Beaulieu, installed in 
 one of the best boxes on the grand tier, where they received 
 innumerable visits from elegant cavaliers between the acts. 
 In the salon, at the rear, conversation was carried on, and 
 Sophie and Claire listened smilingly to their visitors and 
 regaled themselves with bonbons. But Moulin et's box — 
 alas ! — remained unvisited, and all was silent there. Over 
 and over again Athenais remarked to herself : ' ' Surely among 
 all those visitors there must be some suitor for Claire's hand, 
 some nobleman who will eventually marry her." The fact is 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu's beauty had become most fascinat- 
 ing. Her skin was exquisitely white, and when she appeared 
 in a low-cut pink robe, without a jewel, every one gazed at 
 her admiringly. 
 
 Nevertheless Sophie was the first to marry. The Baron de 
 Prefont asked for her hand, and the wedding was celebrated 
 with gr^at pomp at the church of St. Augustine. There was 
 a splendid service, to which Mademoiselle Moulinet was not 
 invited. Still some of her old companions at the convent pre- 
 tended they had seen her — thickly veiled, and accompanied by 
 a maid — watching the ceremony from one of the transepts. 
 This was never proved, stiU it was true. Screened by the shade 
 of a pillar, Athenais viewed the wedding and fairly devoured 
 her enemies with her eyes. Claire was bridesmaid, and col- 
 lected in company with the young Yiscomte de Pontac ; * but 
 as soon as Mademoiselle Moulinet perceived her enemy ap- 
 
 * At all the fashionable Parisian weddings the bridesmaids collect for 
 the poor, under escort. It is worthy of remark that there are never more 
 than two bridesmaids or demoiselles d'honneur, and usually only one. — 
 Trans, 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 103 
 
 proaching her observatory, she retreated into the throng and 
 went off. This little manoeuvre was not noticed by Made- 
 moiselle de Beaidieu, who continued her collection with a gentle 
 smile on her face — never for one moment imagining that if eyes 
 could kill she would have already fallen dead in the centre of 
 the church. 
 
 Sophie being married and the Due de^Bligny having started 
 for St. Petersburg, Claire's life became a very retired one. 
 Of late she had spent six months away from Paris, and all 
 recollection of Athenais had faded from her mind. As she 
 watched the Baronne de Prefont, sleeping composedly in the 
 cosy arpi- chair, she did not give a thought to the many 
 quarrels which this charming madcap had initiated during 
 their convent days. 
 
 Presently the drawing-room door was abruptly opened, and 
 the Baroness started at the sound and woke up. On per- 
 ceiving her husband and Octave enter the room, she sprang 
 at once to her feet, and exclaimed with sudden lucidity of 
 mind: ''Why, you let me fall asleep." Then beginning to 
 laugh: ''Why, it's like in the fairy tales. This must be the 
 castle of the Sleeping Beauty ! Scarcely arrived, I must needs 
 fall asleep. But who is the Prince Charming that has just woke 
 me up ? Is it you. Baron ? No, it must be Octave. Aunt, pray 
 excuse me ! It is your air that did all the harm ! It overcame 
 me. We are not accustomed to such atmosphere in Paris." 
 
 "It's nothing!" replied the Marchioness. "You were 
 taken unawares. It is merely the first effect ; but you" will 
 get used to it." 
 
 Meanwhile the Baron had stepped forward with quiet 
 gravity. "I have just carried out your instructions, dear," 
 said he. " Your luggage has been brought in, and the whole 
 chateau is encumbered with it." 
 
104 THE ironmaster; 
 
 " Yery good," replied the Baroness, with the air of a queen 
 satisfied with a subject's obedience. 
 
 " Shall I show you your rooms ? " asked Claire, perceiving 
 that the Baroness remained standing with an undecided air. 
 
 '^ Willingly, dear," replied Sophie; and taking up a red 
 leather bag which she had laid on a chair when entering the 
 room, she gave her husband a keen sharp glance. He imme- 
 diately approached her to rid her of the bag, but she quickly 
 wrested it from him. ''No, not you," said she. ''You are 
 too absent-minded. And this needs to be treated carefully. 
 Come, Octave, you shall have the privilege of carrying it." 
 With these words she glanced again at her husband, and then 
 from him to the Marchioness, in a most significant manner. 
 
 "I'm highly flattered by your confidence, dear," said 
 Prefont with a smile. "Come, Octave, my dear fellow, the 
 work is for you. Til keep your mother company." 
 
 Delighted at having been understood, the Baroness favoured 
 her husband with an approving gesture, and then, linking 
 her arm through Claire's so as to make sure that Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu would not linger behind and prevent the tete-a-tete 
 she had planned between her husband and the Marchioness, 
 she left the room humming a gay refrain. 
 
 The Baron, who looked grave and thoughtful, advanced a 
 few steps in silence. The Marchioness, ensconced in her easy- 
 chair, gazed vacantly in front of her. The room was dark, 
 but the fire, which had been lighted in this chilly October 
 evening, sparkled in the grate of the pink granite chimney- 
 piece, and its leaping flames cast dancing gleams of light over 
 the ceiling. The Marchioness was thinking to herseK that 
 perhaps the news the Baron had brought from Paris was 
 better than what Bachelin had informed her of a few hours 
 earlier, and yielding to this idea she began to hope again. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 105 
 
 On the floor above the eager steps of the young folks going 
 from room to room could be plainly heard. The old chateau 
 seemed full of unusual life and motion, and a subtle strain of 
 the Baroness's gay carol was wafted through the air. 
 
 At last the Marchioness roused herself from her meditation 
 and raised her eyes. Perceiving the Baron standing before 
 her, as if awaiting her orders, she gave him a melancholy 
 smile. ''Well, nephew," she said, ''and so you have some- 
 thing to tell me. I can guess pretty nearly what it is, and in 
 fact you can see how it grieves me." 
 
 "It is certainly a sad business, aunt," answered the young 
 man gravely, '' and by no means calculated to increase the 
 esteem in which our society is held. Unfortunately, whenever 
 one of us acts dishonourably the odium of his conduct falls on 
 all his equals. Nowadays our only superiority over other classes 
 lies in the faithfulness with which we keep our engagements. 
 ' A nobleman's word ' is a proverbial expression. But, when 
 it is seen that we don't keep our promises any better than 
 other folks, people will soon cease to believe in our respect 
 for verbal engagements, and we shall have lost the last vestige 
 of our good fame." 
 
 A tear sparkled in the Marchioness's eyes, and, raising her 
 thin delicate hands towards the Baron she exclaimed : " Tell 
 me all. Don't hide anything. Thanks to our worthy Bache- 
 lin's investigations, I already know that the Due de Bligny has 
 been in Paris for the last six weeks." 
 
 "Ah, really, Marchioness, you know all that? " exclaimed 
 the Baron bitterly ; " and are you also aware that he is about 
 to marry " 
 
 " To marry! " exclaimed Madame de Beaulieu, rising, half 
 stupefied, from her arm-chair, her face pallid with emotion. 
 
 " Yes, my dear aunt. Excuse my frankness and prompti- 
 
106 THE ironmaster; 
 
 tude in telling you of it, but in matters of this kind I always 
 think it best to go to the point at once." 
 
 '' To marry ! " the Marchioness slowly repeated. 
 
 *' The Duke has done all he could to prevent it from being 
 noised about. But his future father-in-law, who, it appears, 
 is as vulgar a man as could be found, has by no means proved 
 discreet. It seems he is in exultation. Fancy, his daughter 
 is to become a Duchess ! I learned the story from Casteran, 
 who is one of the Duke's intimate :£yiends, and well acquainted 
 with the manner in which the negotiations were set on foot. 
 I am sorry to have to confess to you, aunt, that the story is 
 a most lamentable one. It appears that the Duke had scarcely 
 arrived from St. Petersburg, when he began to gamble at the 
 club. He was badly treated by luck and soon came to the end 
 of his tether, which was by no means long. Thereupon he had 
 recourse to the club cash-box, and obtained funds to meet his 
 engagements. After that he went on playing again — play- 
 ing such high stakes that in a single week his liabilities rose 
 to two hundred and fifty thousand francs. It seems he had 
 completely lost his head. Bad luck maddened him, and he 
 rushed blindly into the melee. In a couple of evenings he 
 had won back all he had lost. Then he lost another hundred 
 thousand francs again, and finally he remained with a 
 ' culotte ' of a couple of hundred thousand " 
 
 The Marchioness raised her eyebrows with surprise and ex- 
 claimed interrogatively : " A ' culotte ? ' " . 
 
 " Excuse me, aunt," said the Baron phlegmatically ; '' it is 
 the usual term. In speaking of a heavy loss at cards people 
 say a ' culotte' — a pair of breeches." 
 
 ''A culotte costing two hundred thousand francs," said the 
 Marchioness with a dreary smile. ''That is certainly very 
 prodigal." 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 107 
 
 " All the more so as Gaston hadn't the first halfpenny to 
 pay what he owed. Besides, at our clubs all debts of this kind 
 must be paid in four-and-twenty hours, or else the debtor is 
 liable to be ' posted' and excluded. So the Duke's situation was 
 a most critical one. Of course he might have applied to his rela- 
 tives. Although all our fortune is in land, we could have raised 
 part of the sum, the Baroness and myself ; and Gaston might 
 have obtained a delay for the rest. But he did not think of ap- 
 plying to us, or rather he would not do so, although Casteran 
 had advised him to take that course. The fact is, the unfortu- 
 nate fellow shut himself up in his room at the club and gave 
 way to the most painful reflections. Herealised that he had 
 grievously tampered with his social position and compromised 
 all his future prospects. However, at this difficult juncture. 
 Providence intervened in the person of the future father-in- 
 law, whom Gaston, so I am told, had only met on a single 
 previous occasion. This individual went to the point at once, 
 speaking to Bligny in this fashion : ' Monsieur le Due, you 
 owe a couple of hundred thousand francs which you must 
 procure in the course of the day ; but you will not be able to 
 do so.' Thereupon the Duke sprang up as if to cut all further 
 conversation short, but this singular person, who had only 
 been introduced to him a few evenings before, immediately 
 added : ' It happens I have brought you these two hundred 
 thousand francs. I possess an immense fortune, and I would 
 not have it said that a man like myself, giving a dowry of ten 
 millions to his only daughter, allowed one of the noblest 
 names in the country to be compromised for the lack of ten 
 thousand louis.' Such language is an enormity, of course ; 
 but you will understand that I don't guarantee these words as 
 being absolutely correct. Casteran has a ready tongue, and, 
 may be, he tried to embellish the story. However, I have 
 
108 
 
 only repeated what lie told me. Bligny appears to have been 
 dazzled. It seemed to him as if this obliging old man were 
 made of gold, and, indeed, as he had benevolently opened his 
 safe, the Duke dipped his little finger into it. His hand 
 followed, and then, as if he had been caught in some 
 machinery, everything else was drawn in — title and aU. And 
 that's how it happens that the Duke is about to be married." 
 
 A moment's silence followed. Night had now fallen, and, 
 in the darkness, the Baron could barely discern the Marchio- 
 ness's head, still proudly raised. The only sound was the 
 monotonous ticking of the old Louis Quatorze clock, as its 
 pendulum swung from side to side with regular cadence. 
 Suddenly the Baron perceived a white cloud as it were pass 
 before his aunt's face, and a sob, imperfectly repressed, told 
 him that she was weeping. He hastily approached her 
 and kneeling on a tapestried stool at her feet, tenderly took 
 hold of her hand — at a loss for words to console her in the 
 grief which had proved stronger even than pride. 
 
 " 'Tis nothing," said the Marchioness gently. ''I was un- 
 able to master my sorrow, I own it ; this is such a blow, I 
 could not restrain my tears. I loved Gaston so dearly. He 
 was a second son for me ! He is of the same blood as myself, 
 and his misconduct grieves me doubly. I cannot understand 
 such ingratitude on his part, for as a lad he had a generous, 
 loyal heart. How can he have changed so promptly ? Has 
 society the power of undoing all the work of long years, in a 
 few months ? I brought him up so gently, so tenderly ! And 
 this is how he rewards me ! Ah ! the imgrateful, the un- 
 grateful fellow." 
 
 The Baron, who was deeply touched, had unwittingly taken 
 from the table one of the long ivory needles with which the 
 Marchioness knitted wooUen waistcoats for the poor, and, with 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 109 
 
 an irritated gesture, lie obstinately kept pricking it into 
 a large ball of grey wool. However, the Marchioness had 
 regained her self-possession and was now drying her tears. 
 " The important matter," said she firmly, ''is that we must be 
 most circumspect in reference to Claire. You know her. She 
 is proud, and violent at times. Just like her father, who had 
 a golden heart, but an iron head. This blow will come upon 
 her at a time when she is full of confidence. She was 
 speaking to me of Gaston only this afternoon. She has never 
 for once thought that he might be jilting her for some one 
 else. She has imputed his silence and delay to the necessities 
 of the situation. The shadow of a doubt has never rested on 
 her mind. Frank and loyal herself, she expects only frank- 
 ness and loyalty from others, and the disclosure of the truth 
 may have a most serious effect on such a nature as hers." 
 
 ' ' But, my dear aunt, don't you think that the situation 
 might be greatly modified by an interview with Bligny ? He 
 has been led astray. But by making him realise all the 
 enormity of the offence he is about to commit, perhaps it 
 would be possible to win him back? If you consented, I 
 would willingly place myseK at your disposal to make the 
 attempt." 
 
 "No," replied the Marchioness proudly. ''We are not 
 folks to humble ourselves and implore. Sad as our position 
 may be, it is none the less dignified and well defined. I 
 should not care to change it. However, before acquainting my 
 daughter with the sad tidings, I shall wait till my nephew's 
 new engagements have become irrevocable. For with a man 
 so capricious as the Due de Bligny" — and here the Mar- 
 chioness smiled bitterly — "one can rely on nothing with 
 certainty — may be, he will change his mind again " 
 
 "As you please, aunt," rejoined the Baron. "I cannot 
 
no THE ironmaster; or, love and pride. 
 
 blame you for deciding on this course. To tell tlie truth I 
 anticipated such, an answer from you ; still I considered it my 
 duty to offer you my services in the event of conciliation heing 
 thought of. At all events, no matter what may happen now, 
 yours will be the honourable role ; and if you have occasion to 
 shed a few tears in secret, at least you will have no need to 
 make a wry face. And 1 wouldn't say as much for Bligny." 
 
 A sound of rapid footsteps was now heard on the stairs, 
 combined with the merry chatter of fresh young voices. 
 Octave and Claire, light-hearted and smiling, were returning 
 with, the Baroness, whose impulsive gaiety bad speedily en- 
 livened them. The drawing-room door opened and Madame 
 de Prefont, ahead of her cousins, swept like an avalanche into 
 the gloomy apartment. '' What ! good heavens ! You are in 
 the dark ! How dreadfully dismal ! " cried the Baroness. 
 " You seem to be talking in a tomb ! Why it's dark enough 
 not to hear one another speak ! Aunt, you have spoiled us — 
 you have given the Baron and me the finest rooms in the 
 chateau. And, do you know, we shall find ourselves so com- 
 fortable that we shall be tempted to stay here for good ! " 
 
 '* So much the better, my dear. But I fancy your journey 
 must have given you an appetite. We will go to dinner." 
 
 At the same moment, as if these words had been expected, 
 the folding doors communicating with the dining-room were 
 thrown open, a blaze of light illumined the sideboards adorned 
 with old china and massive silver plate, and in a sedate, 
 solemn voice the butler articulated the established formula : 
 '' Madame la Marquise is served." 
 
yi. 
 
 02f the morrow of Monsieur and Madame de Prefont's arrival 
 at Beanlieu, Philippe Derblaj, accompanied by his sister, 
 presented himself at the chateau ; and his visit was particu- 
 larly well timed so far as the versatile Baroness was con- 
 cerned, for it promised some little diversion in the midst of 
 this country life, which she was already beginning to find 
 insipidly monotonous. 
 
 Seated imder a large garden tent, striped red and grey, the 
 inmates of Beaulieu were enjoying the sunshine of one of 
 those fine October afternoons which are, like the last smiles of 
 the year, soon destined to become so cold and dreary. Deceived 
 by the warmth of the sun, numerous feathered vocalists were 
 carolling among the trees of the park as in the summer time ; 
 while on the warm gravel of the terrace a couple of black- 
 birds with yellow beaks whistled and fought for some crumbs 
 of bread which the Marquis had thrown out of the dining- 
 room window. Wrapped in her shawls and rendered some- 
 what drowsy by the warm air, the Marchioness listened with 
 wandering attention to the prattle of the Baroness and Claire, 
 who conversed together leaning over the pink granite balus- 
 trade. The Baron, who was gravely reclining in a rocking- 
 chair, puffed slowly at his cigar, the smoke of which rose in 
 wavy spirals towards the blue sky. The Marquis, with his 
 pocket-book on his knee, was furtively sketching the profiles 
 
112 THE ironmaster; 
 
 of the two young women, wHcli stood out gracefully against 
 tke clear horizon. Profound peacefulness pervaded this cosy 
 corner, and by degrees an invincible, delicious sensation of 
 lassitude stole over one, enervating the body and lulling the 
 mind to sleep. 
 
 The footsteps of a servant sounding on the gravel aroused 
 every one from this moral and physical stupor. The Mar- 
 chioness opened her eyes. Claire and the Baroness turned 
 round, abandoning their dreamy contemplation of the vaUey. 
 The Marquis hastily slipped his note-book into his pocket. 
 The Baron, who did not believe in useless motion, alone 
 contented himself with a mere inclination of the head. 
 
 "Monsieur and Mademoiselle Derblay inquire if Madame 
 la Marquise receives," said the footman. 
 
 A slight frown came over Claire's proud brow as she heard 
 these words. The name of the man by whom she ^instinc- 
 tively felt she was pursued displeased her, thus pronounced 
 in her own home. She had, as it were, a presentiment that 
 this stranger would somehow influence her life, and her whole 
 being revolted at the thought. Suddenly, however, her 
 heart filled with bitterness, although a confused idea that she 
 was abandoned already existed in the depths of her soul. 
 She asked herself how it happened that, after M. Derblay's 
 demonstrations of love, timid though they were, he dared to 
 present himself at the chateau. It is true that Bachelin had 
 announced the visit, giving as its motive a desire for con- 
 ciliation on business matters. JBut the latter might only be a 
 pretext. Because she was momentarily forsaken by the Duke, 
 was this ironmaster bold enough to think of approaching her 
 and wooing her ? These reflections passed in a second 
 through her mind, and prompted her aversion for Philippe. 
 
 "'Receive him, aunt, receive him ! " cried the Baroness. ''I 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 112 
 
 am so curious to see tliis ironmaster ! He will amuse us, and 
 we will make his sister cliatter about what is going on in the 
 village. Perhaps she wears the costume of the province ! 
 How nice it would be ! " 
 
 ''But I am myseK desirous of receiving, dear," replied the 
 Marchioness, smiling ; and turning towards the servant, who 
 stood waiting, she added: ''Eequest Monsieur and Made- 
 moiselle Derblay to be kind enough to step as far as here." 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and then the glass door of 
 the drawing-room opened, and Philippe and Suzanne ap- 
 peared on the steps. A sun ray illumined the ironmaster's 
 bronzed resolute countenance. He appeared in all his quiet, 
 sedate strength. Clad in a long buttoned-up frock-coat, he 
 seemed taller than he really was. His sister, who wore a simple 
 dress of dark blue woollen stuff, approached close beside him. 
 Emotion lent an animated expression of mingled nervousness 
 and resolution to her features, and her loving eyes were fixed 
 on her brother as if to inspire him with courage. 
 
 The Marchioness had risen and taken a few steps forward 
 to meet her visitors. Philippe bent low before her and 
 stammered a few disjointed words, the confusion of which 
 brought a smile to the noble lady's lips. But as if to free 
 him from his embarrassment she turned to Suzanne, and, 
 with charming grace, took hold of her hand. ''Tell your 
 brother, child," she said, " that he is welcome here." 
 
 Philippe raised his head, and in a tone of deep gratitude, 
 exclaimed: "I don't know how to thank you, Madame la 
 Marquise, for the kind reception you give my sister. She 
 has grown up under my guidance, but without a mother's 
 care. She sadly needs advice and lessons, and she could 
 obtain none better than yours, if jou were gracious enough to 
 take some interest in her." 
 
114 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu looked at Suzanne more attentively ^ 
 and was touclied by lier candid, tender gracefulness. '' Come 
 and let me kiss you, my beauty," she said. And touching' 
 Suzanne's fair hair with her lips, '^ There is peace signed on 
 this child's forehead," she added, turning to Philippe. *' All 
 your sins are forgiven 'you, neighbour. And now come and 
 let me introduce you to my family." 
 
 With a wave of the hand she indicated Octave who was 
 approaching. ''The Marquis de Beaulieu, my son," said she. 
 
 ''Oh! an introduction is quite useless, mother," exclaimed 
 the Marquis frankly, as he held out his hand to Philippe. 
 " We have already met — Monsieur Derblay and I. You have 
 good legs, my dear neighbour, and the hares I contrive to 
 miss so well could never scamper off so fast as you do, when 
 you don't wish to be overtaken." 
 
 " You must excuse me, Monsieur le Marquis," replied 
 Philippe with a smile," if I did not tell you who I was. You 
 did not seem to have a very favourable opinion of me, and I 
 feared I should meet with scarcely a pleasant reception if I 
 abandoned my incognito." 
 
 ' ' Well,. I only knew you by the misunderstanding which 
 had arisen concerning our respected limits, but matters are 
 different now, and I trust we shall be good friends. But, pray, 
 be kind enough to introduce me to Mademoiselle Derblay." 
 
 The charm of Suzanne's person was having its effect 
 already, for Octave at once approached her, gallantly polite 
 and eager to please. Madame de Beaulieu thereupon turned 
 to Philippe again, and designating him to the Baroness and 
 Claire, exclaimed: "Monsieur Derblay, the ironmaster of 
 Pont-Avesnes." Then indicating the two cousins, she added : 
 ' ' The Baronne de Prefont, my niece, and Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu, my daughter," 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 115 
 
 A burning flusli suffused Philippe's face, and without daring 
 to set eyes on the girl he adored, he bowed so low that one 
 might almost have fancied he was about to kneel down. 
 
 ** Why he's a gentleman, dear ! " whispered the Baroness to 
 Claire. ''And think that I pictured him with bare arms, with, 
 a leather apron over his knees and iron-dust in his hair ! 
 Heaven forgive me ! Why, he's decorated ! And the Baron 
 isn't ! — It is true we live under a strange government, but aU. 
 the same, it is very extraordinary ! So he doesn't spend his 
 
 time hammering then ? Just look at him It's incredible. 
 
 He's really very good looking. His eyes are superb." 
 
 Claire had hitherto averted her gaze, but now she looked 
 at Philippe almost sternly. Her heart was full of anger, and 
 she was tempted to greet this daring stranger with wounding 
 words and offensive glances. She looked on his stalwart form 
 as evidence of vulgarity, and was displeased even with bis 
 dark clothes, which gave him such a dignified, serious air. 
 At the same moment the Duke's image flitted vision-like before 
 her eyes. She seemed to see Gaston, with his slender figure 
 and graceful bearing, his oval face and brown hair, Ms blue 
 eyes and his expressive mouth, shaded by long drooping 
 moustaches. The contrast was complete between Philippe, 
 there present, and Bligny, far away. The robust figure of 
 the former was the incarnation, so to* say, of the healthful 
 physique of the middle classes, while the latter exhibited in 
 his person the delicate and somewhat effeminate grace peculiar 
 to the aristocracy. 
 
 Philippe remained spell-bound under Claire's gaze, and his 
 feet seemed rooted to the ground. In bis confusion he was 
 tempted to try and escape from this hostile examination, and 
 thought of approaching the Marquis — who was stiU talking 
 with Suzanne — so as to be near some one who bore him no 
 
116 THE ironmaster; 
 
 ill-will. However, his limbs failed him. Almost unwittingly 
 lie glanced at himself , and suddenly imagined that he was 
 unwieldy, common looking, and destitute of aught approach- 
 ing elegance. He bitterly compared himself to the two young 
 men near him, who walked about with such easy, natural 
 grace in their well-cut clothes ; and his black frock-coat of 
 provincial make seemed hideous. He fancied he looked gro- 
 tesque, standing there with his tall hat in his hand ; and he 
 suffered horribly. He would, at that moment, have given 
 ten years of his life to have been dressed like the Baron and 
 Octave, and to have possessed their easy bearing, for he said 
 to himself that Claire would never forget the aspect imder 
 which he had first appeared before her, and that an unfavour- 
 able recollection of his person would always abide in her 
 mind. He distinctly realised the distance that still separated 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, although ruined, from the iron- 
 master of Pont-Avesnes, and with profound despair, he 
 reproached himself for his mad presumption in raising his eyes 
 higher than his ambition could ever hope to attain. 
 
 However, Octave's voice at last roused him from his torpor. 
 ''My dear Monsieur Derblay, " said the Marquis, ''we have 
 some one here who can readily talk to you about industrial 
 questions — my cousin, the Baron de Prefont, a savant.''^ 
 
 "Say a man of study, my dear Octave," softly interrupted 
 the Baron. " The field of science is too vast for me to have 
 any other pretension than that of having explored a small 
 corner of it." 
 
 Pegaining his self-possession Philippe looked around him 
 for Mademoiselle de Beaulieu. She had gracefully sauntered 
 off, and was now slowly walking up and down the terrace with 
 the Baroness. With' the tip of her crimson parasol she un- 
 wittingly struck at the flowers of a creeper twining round the 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. / 117 
 
 balustrade. . Philippe heaved a sigh, and averting his gaze : 
 "This is not the first time," said he, "that I have heard 
 Monsieur de Prefont's name mentioned." Then, as the Baron 
 made a gesture of polite protest, he added : "Are you not the 
 author of a remarkable treatise on cementation, monsieur? 
 I have myself studied the question, and I read the treatise 
 you sent to the Academy of Sciences with, very great interest 
 indeed." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! Baron," cried Octave gaily. " You didn't fancy 
 you were so well known in our mountains ? Come, you are 
 on the road to fame, my dear fellow ; your name has pene- 
 trated even into remote rural districts, and you must supple- 
 ment your old device, * Fortis gladio,'* with the addendum ' et 
 pennd.^ Don't think I'm poking fun at you. I would gladly 
 imitate you if I only could." 
 
 But the Baron cared little what the Marquis might say ! 
 Delighted to find an auditor who could understand him, he 
 had already launched forth into a learned dissertation on the 
 manufacture of steel. Even the intervention of the Baroness 
 would not have turned him from his subject. He had divested 
 himself of his English stiffness and reassumed all his natural 
 mobility. He clapped his hands together and imitated the 
 noise of machinery to illustrate his demonstration. Gesticu- 
 lating vivaciously, he even caught hold of M. Derblay's arm, 
 as if to prevent the ironmaster from taking himself off. But 
 Philippe had no desire to try and escape from M. de Prefont's 
 impulsive familiarity. Quite the contrary, he urged him on, 
 happy to find an unexpected ally in one of these people among 
 whom he had felt so ill at ease ; and thus the Baron, who was 
 quite delighted, rattled on with infinite loquacity, already 
 calling Philippe " my dear sir," which he certainly would not 
 have done with any one else after a three months' connection. 
 
118 . THE ironmaster; 
 
 But then their mutual interest in science had. brought and 
 linked them together immediately, as if they had been a 
 couple of freemasons and had exchanged certain mysterious 
 signs in shaking hands. 
 
 ' ' And you dig your own ore ? How interesting your works 
 must be ! " said the Baron. " I must go down to Pont-Avesnes 
 to-morrow morning for you to show me your forges. You 
 must employ a good many workpeople ? " 
 
 ''About two thousand." 
 
 " That's capital ! And how many furnaces ? " 
 
 ^' Ten, the fires of which are kept alight from one year to 
 another. You shall see my steam hammer. It weighs twenty 
 tons, and can be worked with such precision that you might 
 lower it to touch an egg without breaking the shell." 
 
 ''Why, with such an implement as that you might com- 
 pete with Le Creusot itself? " 
 
 ' ' Exactly so ; what Le Creusot does on a large scale we do 
 on a small one." 
 
 "It is quite a piece of good fortune for me, to have met 
 you, my dear sir," exclaimed the Baron joyfully. "I intended 
 starting with the Baroness for Switzerland at the end of the 
 month, but good-bye to our tour ! I shall stop here. Do you 
 understand? We wiU make some experiments together. 
 Have you a laboratory ? Yes ! You are a chemist ? Per- 
 fect ! You are one of the most agreeable men I have ever 
 met." And taking Philippe by the arm again, M. de Prefont 
 began walking up and down the terrace. 
 
 " Dear me ! what is the matter with my husband ? " asked 
 the Baroness, as she approached with Claire. 
 
 "The matter, my dear cousin?" responded Octave gaily, 
 "why he is riding his favourite hobby with Monsieur Der- 
 blay before him." 
 
OK, LOVE AND PRIDE. 119 
 
 ''Then they may have a long journey, and no mistake, 
 if my husband isn't stopped." 
 
 ''And why should he be stopped ?" asked the Marquis. 
 ^' Don't you approve of Prefont's associating with Monsieur 
 Derblay ? Your husband, my dear cousin, is a descendant of 
 the crusaders, and ten centuries of warlike fame are united 
 in his person. Monsieur Derblay, a manufacturer's son, 
 represents but one century — but it is the century which has 
 produced, or at least found the means of utilising, steam, gas, 
 and electricity. I must confess to you that, for my own part, 
 I particularly admire the sudden association of these two men, 
 who although apparently dissimilar, mutually esteem each 
 other and blend together the greatest desiderata for a nation's 
 grandeur — past glory and present progress." 
 
 ''Octave, my friend," said the Baroness, "it can be seen 
 that you are an advocate. You speak very fluently indeed. 
 But allow me to say that I find you rather democratic for 
 your father's son." 
 
 "Well, cousin," rejoined the young man smiling, "you 
 know that democracy invades us on all sides. So let us try 
 and constitute an aristocracy even in our democratic commu- 
 nity. For instance, draw the line at niediocrity, and set all 
 who are meritorious above it. We might thus found the 
 aristocracy of talent, which is the only one worthy of succeed- 
 ing the aristocracy of birth. And besides, in acting like that 
 we shall only be imitating our ancestors. Do you imagine 
 that the founders of our families were of noble birth ? It was 
 their courage which raised them above other men. The first 
 Prefont was simj)^ called Gaucher (the left-handed), which 
 no doubt did not prevent him from being skilful, for it is 
 stated that he was a doughty soldier. Ennobled for his war- 
 like deeds, and enriched by booty, he took the name of his 
 
120 THE ironmaster; 
 
 estate on returning from Palestine'; and it is thanks to Cap- 
 tain Gaudier, my dear cousin, tliat you are a Baroness. So 
 why should we deny men who are co-equal perhaps with your 
 ancestor the right of stepping out of the crowd ? In old 
 times folks used to say : ' Honour to the bravest ; ' hut now- 
 adays let us rather cry : ' Eoom for the most intelligent.' " 
 
 " "Well thought and well said, Monsiaur le Marquis ; and I 
 beg Madame la Baronne to excuse me if I side against her." 
 exclaimed a deep voice, proceeding from behind a clump of 
 foliage. And the next moment Bachelin, with a very red 
 face, his hat in his hand, and a portfolio bulky with papers 
 under his arm as usual, appeared at the corner of the terrace. 
 
 ''Ah! Bachelin, your arrival is well timed," cried the 
 Baroness gaily. ''That's just the style of you legal gentle- 
 men. Tou all belong to the Third Estate, and the Revolu- 
 tion was made for your benefit. But you have sprung up like 
 a jack-in-the-box. Which way did you come ? " 
 
 "I crossed the park as I had just arrived from La Varenne, 
 and I left my gig at the' little gate. But excuse me — " And 
 turning towards Madame de Beaulieu, who was approaching 
 with Suzanne — "Madame la Marquise, your humble servant. 
 Mademoiselle Suzanne, my sincere homage. How extra- 
 ordinarily warm it is to-day ! I came in great haste — I 
 wished to be here at the same time as Monsieur Derblay. 
 But a very important deed to sign detained me. A deed which 
 has caused me much regret, Madame la Marquise. It was 
 for the sale of La Yarenne." 
 
 "Ah! so the D'Estrelles have at last found a pur- 
 chaser?" exclaimed the Marquis in a questioning tone. 
 
 "Yes, a purchaser," replied Bachelin; "a purchaser who 
 has paid a fancy price, too, I can assure you. But he 
 particularly wished for this estate, and he has given at least 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 121 
 
 a third more tlian could have been realised even if the 
 property had been divided into lots. He is a Paris manu- 
 facturer. He even told me that he had the honour of 
 knowing Madame la Marquise's family. No doubt this is 
 why he was desirous of purchasing some property in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Beaulieu." 
 
 ''And can one know this gentleman's name?" asked the 
 Marchioness coldly. 
 
 ** His name is Monsieur Moulinet," quietly replied the 
 notary. 
 
 Bachelin had certainly no idea of the effect he was about 
 to produce when he opened his mouth to articulate these 
 ■words. Mademoiselle de Beaulieu rose hastily to her feet, 
 whilst the Baroness started, clapped her hands together and 
 exclaimed : " Athenais's father ! " 
 
 ' ' Yes, Monsieur Moulinet had a young lady with him whom 
 he called by that name," remarked the notary. '' The estate 
 has been purchased for her, and will figure as part of her 
 jointure on the day of her marriage. It means a clear in- 
 come of thirty thousand francs a year, and, indeed, the rents 
 might be raised when the present leases expire." 
 
 ' ' Dear me, it is really too bad ! There, they have become 
 our neighbours!" resumed the Baroness. ''And Monsieur 
 Moulinet will now be playing the lord of the manor ! Poor 
 man ! He will look as if he were his own gardener ! " 
 
 " He is said to be very rich ? " exclaimed Bachelin, interro- 
 gatively. 
 
 " Excessively rich," the Baroness answered. " Bidicu- 
 lously so ! Ah ! you see, Octave, that's what your theories 
 bring us to, my dear fellow. There you have it— the 
 aristocracy of intelligence ! Monsieur Moulinet is one of its 
 finest specimens. The D'Estrelles, who gave ten generals, 
 
122 THE ironmaster; 
 
 two admirals, a marshal, and several ministers of state to 
 France, whose ancestors' portraits are at Yersailles, and 
 whose names appear on all the grand pages of our history, 
 have to vacate their chateau to^make room for a chocolate- 
 maker who never rendered a centime's worth of service to 
 his country, and whose name only figures on the prospectuses 
 which he has distributed at street corners. That's your 
 democracy, my dear fellow ! Ah ! Don't talk to me of a 
 country where such abominable things can happen. It is a 
 lost land ! " 
 
 ''Calm yourself, Baroness," said Octave. ''I agree with 
 you that it is a great pity the D'Estelles should have to part 
 with their chateau, but, frankly, how can we prevent it ? 
 Ought we to dispossess Monsieur Moulinet of his money to 
 enrich our friends with ? It would be rather arbitrary. 
 And unless we heated his feet into the bargain, I don't 
 see how he could be treated worse." 
 
 '' Leave me alone ! You are insupportable," cried Madame 
 de Prefont. ''Come, I believe you say all that merely to 
 annoy me, and that you don't really believe a word of it." 
 Thereupon, taking the Marchioness's arm she went forward 
 to meet the Baron who was returning with Philippe. 
 
 Claire had remained behind — motionless and pensive. The 
 sudden apparition of M. Derblay and Athenais Moulinet 
 not merely disturbed the retirement of her life, but caused 
 her a strange emotion. Peared in that aristocratic society, 
 round which impassable barriers have been raised with 
 rigorous pride, she beheld with bitter stupefaction this unex- 
 pected trespass on her private life. It seemed to her as if the 
 old chateau had become as commonplace as a street, since M. 
 Derblay could enter it so easily and be at once received on a 
 footing of equality. She determined to show that she in no- 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 123 
 
 wise approved of tlie alacrity with, wliicli mere strangers 
 were welcomed, and seeing lier relatives all so smiling and 
 affable, she hecame still more frigid and solemn. How- 
 ever, she divined that there was some threatening mystery 
 in what transpired around her. The Duke's prolonged 
 silence worried her more than she dared confess ; and the 
 frequent embarrassment of her relatives, a few scraps of 
 phrases she had overheard, sudden pauses and silence when 
 she approached unexpectedly, an increase of affection on her 
 mother's part, all combined to make her apprehensive. She 
 suffered grievously. Equivocation was unbearable to her 
 proud, frank nature. As a rule she went straight to the point 
 and tackled the situation in front. But in this instance 
 she dared not do so. Her love made her timid. She was 
 afraid she might learn that the Duke was faithless to her, 
 and, ashamed for him, fearing she might be obliged to 
 acknowledge his unworthiness, she refrained from question- 
 ing, and maintained her painful silence. 
 
 Thus she showed herself impassive and haughty, receiving 
 Philippe's timid homage^ with a disdain she took no trouble 
 to hide, and merely paying sufficient attention to him to 
 show how much his presence displeased her. Suzanne had 
 in vain tried gentle words in hopes of parting Claire's com- 
 |)ressed lips, but her endeavour having failed she lost coun- 
 tenance, and sought for a refuge beside Bachelin, who watched 
 over her paternally. She felt sad and discouraged, despite all 
 the graceful attentions of the Marchioness, whom she had 
 captivated with her simple grace. The poor child's illu- 
 sions had been instantly dispelled, and she realised that her 
 brother's happiness was seriously compromised. "With her 
 precocious common sense she was able to comprehend the 
 distance which separated Philippe from haughty, imposing 
 
124 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 Claire. She divined that some unforeseen event cotdd alone 
 bring these two dissimilar beings together. Still she did not 
 despair ; for with a child's tenacious faith, she naively relied 
 on Providence to dispel all obstacles. 
 
 The Marchioness, remembering Bachelin's confidential 
 praise of Philippe, delighted with the enthusiasm of the 
 Baron, who had decidedly appropriated the ironmaster, and 
 really surprised to find that her neighbour was such a culti- 
 vated man, had asked M. Derblay if he would remain to 
 dinner at the chateau. Claire immediately gave her such a 
 look of astonishment and displeasure, that she asked herself 
 if she had not been rather hasty in giving this invitation. On 
 consideration, however, she decided she had only acted politely, 
 and interpreted Claire's irritation as a sudden attack of un- 
 sociability. But Philippe himself promptly furnished a means 
 of appeasement. With exquisite poKteness he expressed his 
 regret at not being able to profit by the very great favour 
 shown him, for pressing business required he should return to 
 Pont-Avesnes before the evening set in. 
 
 In reality he was anxious to leave. He had experienced 
 acute mental torture during the two hours he had spent on the 
 terrace, listening to the Baron without understanding him, 
 with his temples compressed by a vice as it were, and with 
 tumultuous thoughts hammering into his brain. He could 
 endure this agony no longer. He had looked forward to this 
 interview so impatiently, he had dreamt that it would yield 
 him such joy, and yet it had proved one of the most cruel 
 moments of his life. Thus, discouraged and saddened, ready 
 to relinquish his ambitious hopes, he took leave of the inmates 
 of the chateau. Claire did not seem to attach any more im- 
 portance to his departure than to his arrival. She remained 
 disdainfully silent, merely acknowledging his respectful bow 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 125 
 
 witli a sliglit inclination of tlie head — just as much, as she 
 would have granted to a tradesman. 
 
 Philippe's departure would have singularly resembled a 
 rout, had it not been for the timely help of the allies he had 
 won in the fortress. The Baron's conduct was a fresh example 
 of how profoundly passion can modify character. Abandon- 
 ing the last vestige of his customary reserve he accompanied 
 M. Derblay as far as the gate, and shook hands with him as 
 vigorously and as cordially as if they had been intimate old 
 comrades. On the other hand the Marquis followed Suzanne, 
 and by his extreme affability towards her brother evinced the 
 particular interest he took in herseK. Bachelin brought up 
 the rear, with his eternal portfolio under his arm. At the 
 little park gate where his gig was waiting, the old grey horse 
 was found philosophically munching some green leaves. The 
 notary helped Philippe and Suzanne to climb into the vehicle, 
 while the Baron considerately held the nag's bridle — of which 
 there was no need — and the Marquis exchanged a last smile 
 with the young girl. Bachelin then touched up the horse 
 with his whip, the wheels creaked, and the Baron and the 
 Marquis cried out in touching unison : * ' Au revoir ! Till 
 we meet again." 
 
 In a quivering voice, Philippe responded with a ''Never," 
 which was fortunately lost in the rattle of the vehicle. The 
 notary, however, abruptly turned round. 
 
 '' Never ? " said he, '' Never ? Come, my friend, have you 
 lost your head ? Why should you never return to Beaulieu ? ' ' 
 
 Thus questioned Philippe ceased to restrain himself, and 
 opening his heart, he allowed the bitter flood of his mortifica- 
 tion to pour forth. What was the use of persevering in an 
 enterprise which as everything indicated was destined to result 
 in miserable failure ? He could only encounter unmerited 
 
126 THE ironmaster; 
 
 humiliation and bitter grief. 'Twould "be better to renounce 
 bis bopes at once, and uproot tbe evil ere it bad time to 
 spread. 
 
 ''But, my dear fellow," interrupted Bacbelin in a sarcastic 
 tone, " wbat in beaven's name did you bope for ? Tbe violence 
 of your regrets leads me to suppose tbat your pretensions were 
 very far fetcbed indeed. Did you imagine tbat Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu would tbrow berself at your bead as if sbe bad 
 been a grisette and you a student ? In tbe society you bave 
 just entered, my dear fellow, sentiments are usually expressed 
 in extremely delicate sbades of language. Tbere is no glow- 
 ing enthusiasm, nor any decided antipathy. Everything is 
 done with tact and measure. And, besides, you bave achieved 
 incredible success for a first visit. You made a good im- 
 pression on both of tbe men, tbe Marquis is your friend, and 
 tbe Baron is only too eager to take charge of your laboratory. 
 Einally, the Marchioness, herself, so shares tbe general im- 
 pression that sbe invites you to dinner tbe very first day, as 
 if you were a friend of twenty years' standing ; and yet you 
 complain ! Come, you are really most unjust ! To say tbe 
 truth, Mademoiselle Claire gave you a cold greeting. What 
 of tbat ? It would have been a pretty business indeed if sbe 
 bad thrown her arms round your neck. Come, you are alto- 
 gether too hasty ! Yesterday afternoon the height of your 
 ambition was to see and approach her for a few minutes. You 
 have just spent a couple of hours in her company, and yet 
 you raise a cry of despair, and accuse heaven and earth ! 
 And you declare besides that you won't return to the house 
 again. Upon my word you must be mad ! To begin with, 
 you can't dispense with returning to Beaulieu, unless you 
 wish to pass for an ill-bred cub. Besides, will you bave suf- 
 ficient power over yourself to resist the temptation of offering 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 127 
 
 up your devotion at the feet of the beautiful Claire ? Ah! my 
 dear fellow, how happy you are to be in love ! You are 
 young, so weep and suffer, it is the best part of life. In fact, 
 life would be nothing without it, believe me — believe an old 
 man, who in his capacity as a notary has heard a good many 
 confidential revelations during the last forty years, and who, 
 himself, only regrets one thing at the present hour " 
 
 Bachelin's face wore an unusually animated expression, 
 and his eyes fairly sparkled. No doubt some very remarkable 
 confession was on the point of escaping him when his glance 
 lighted on Suzanne, who, whilst attentively listening, was 
 pulling to pieces, petal by petal, a lovely rose which the Mar- 
 quis had culled on the terrace at Beaulifeu. Somehow or 
 other this sight induced the notary to leave his sentence un- 
 finished, and whipping up his nag, who was going at a jog 
 trot with his head between his fore legs, he resumed : " Come, 
 take my advice, my dear fellow, return and see the Marchio- 
 ness. Mademoiselle Claire will shortly have to pass through 
 some very cruel trials, and coming events may greatly change 
 her manner towards you. Ah! you no longer say : 'Never!' 
 That's something. To-morrow you will be saying ' Always !' 
 But here we are at Pont-Avesnes. I won't go in with you. 
 I have some pressing work to give my clerks. Come, a good 
 appetite, and rosy dreams I " 
 
 Then, having shaken hands with Philippe and gallantly 
 pressed his lips to Suzanne's fingers, Bachelin drove swiftly 
 down the principal street of the village and speedily disap- 
 peared round the corner of the market-place. 
 
 Philippe heaved a sigh and opened the side door of the 
 courtyard; then, with downcast brow, and followed by his 
 sister, who respected his mute sadness, he re-entered his home, 
 which he had left so hopefully only a few hours before. 
 
YII. 
 
 The Chateau de la Yarenne is one of the finest feudal piles 
 remaining in France. Eaised hj Engu errand d'Estrelles — who 
 distinguished himself at Bouvines by rescuing King Philip 
 Augustus, when the latter was unhorsed by a Flemish pike- 
 man — its pointed towers, with their ornamental leaden roofs, 
 had the honour of sheltering the Emperor Charles Y . on his way 
 to the siege of Nancy. However, during a brush which took 
 place between Turenne and the Imperial forces, prior to the 
 illustrious Marshal's sanguinary and savage campaign in the 
 Palatinate, he cannonaded La Yarenne with most destructive 
 effect, and the whilom stronghold remained in ruins during the 
 reigns of Louis the Well-Beloved and Louis the Martyr. The 
 Eevolution swept by almost powerless to harm it, for scarcely 
 any more harm could be done. The citizens of BesauQon con- 
 tented themselves with cutting down the trees for firewood 
 and stealing the stones for building purposes. Worked like 
 a quarry, the chateau thus furnished walls for more than a 
 score of dwellings. A dealer in old metal, living in the dis- 
 trict, moreover, appropriated between two and three hundred 
 tons of lead coming from the roofs, and impudently sold them. 
 Naturally enough he made his fortune. 
 
 The D'Estelles, who had emigrated with the Comte d'Artois, 
 were unable to complain of these depredations. They were 
 fighting before Mayence, cutting down Biron's hussars and 
 
THE IRONMASTER ; OR, LOVE AND TRIDE. 129 
 
 Pichegru's grenadiers, with, an ardour similar to that whicli 
 gained the battle of Fontenoy. Curiously enough, it was the 
 organized pillaging of La Varenne, in which the whole pro- 
 vince participated, that virtually saved the D'Estrelles from 
 , ruin. The town of Besangon was never able to sell the La 
 Yarenne lands as ''national property." No one would have 
 dared to purchase them, for fear of the ill-will of the towns- 
 folk and peasantry, who were in the habit of pillaging the 
 estate as if it had been a strip of conquered country. 
 
 However, under the Directory, the D'EsteUes were able to 
 return to France, thanks to Barras's protection. They found 
 their property fairly sacked, but free, and installed them- 
 selves in a keeper's lodge, which they re-provided with doors 
 and windows. By carefully managing the remnants of their 
 patrimony during the Empire, they were able to scrape some- 
 thing like a new fortune together, and in the early days of 
 the Restoration, they returned to Paris in a position to keep 
 up their rank. Moreover, under the July Monarchy, the head 
 of the family espoused the richly dowered daughter of Claude 
 Chretien, the banker, who had just been created a baron as a 
 reward for his pecuniary services. M. d'Estrelles had a 
 passion for old-time architecture, and at immense expense he 
 caused the chateau of La Yarenne to be restored as it was in 
 its days of splendour. The lofty walls crowned with battle- 
 mented terraces, the superb towers with their quaintly sculp- 
 tured gargoyles, rose once more "above the trees of the park. 
 The work lasted ten years, and cost a stupendous sum. The 
 magnificent pile was most tastefully re-furnished. In antici- 
 pation of the furore of nowadays M. d'Estrelles purchased all 
 the finely carved credences, all the mirrors in splendid frames, 
 all the most perfect ecclesiastical woodwork of an ornamental 
 character^chefs-d'oeuvre of the image cutters of the Middle 
 
130 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Ages — and all the superb Flanders tapestry that he could lay 
 his hands on. La Yarenne thus became a perfect museum, 
 full of those artistic riches which were then so despised, but 
 are now so eagerly sought after. This splendid residence 
 proved a perfect paradise for the impassioned collector who 
 had adorned it with so many marvels. 
 
 It was perfectly restored and embellished in all respects 
 when M. d'Estrelles died, leaving it to his son, a lieutenant 
 in the Guides. Four years later, however, this young mad- 
 cap had mortgaged the estate of La Varenne for two-thirds 
 of its value, and the priceless art collections were about to be 
 removed to Paris to be sold by auction, when M. Moulinet 
 appeared on the scene as a purchaser for the whole estate 
 and its appurtenances. In view of his daughter's marriage 
 with the Duke, he had at first thought of repurchasing the 
 domain of Bligny in Touraine. But his future son-in-law's 
 ancestral home, after changing hands several times, had fallen 
 into the possession of a wealthy manufacturer of pottery, who 
 treated Moulinet's offers, tempting as they were, with absolute 
 disdain. As Bligny could not be bought, Athenais's father 
 fell back on La Yarenne, and, everything considered, he was 
 delighted with his acquisition. The vicinity of Beaulieu 
 especially pleased him. He would find himself en famille, as 
 it were, and pleasant neighbourly intercourse would speedily 
 follow. 
 
 It is true that, although Moulinet was a faithful executor 
 of the dark designs which had guided his daughter in her 
 selection of a husbanji, he had no idea of the real extent of 
 Athenais's perfidy, "yhe Duke's relatives might, of course, at 
 first turn a cold shoulder to his attempts at familiarity, for 
 it had certainly been said at one time that Gaston should 
 marry his cousin. With superb egotism, however, anibitious 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 131 
 
 M. Moulinet looked down on this betrothal as a cliildisli freak. 
 Gaston and Claire had been '^ little husband" and ''little 
 wife " at an age when the heart has not yet developed a true 
 power of feeling, when the mind wanders here and there 
 without aim or plan. The chocolate-maker did not admit that 
 this engagement, contracted at the outset of life, could have 
 resulted in a deep attachment, even on the part of one of the 
 betrothed. He himself had been bound by childish promises 
 to the juvenile daughter of a carpenter, in the Rue de la Fer- 
 ronnerie, at the time when he was a petty clerk employed by a, 
 wholesale druggist in the Eue des Lombards. This carpenter's 
 daughter, whom he had quite forgotten, had ultimately 
 married a butcher, doing business on the Place des Innocents, 
 and one day he had caught sight of her — fat and ruddy, with 
 white linen sleeve-protectors on her arms, and an Astrakan 
 tippet over her shoulders — as she weighed some mutton chops 
 in the bright brass scales. In the meanwhile he, Moulinet, 
 had become a millionaire and resided in a superb mansion on 
 the Boulevard Malesherbes. What connection could there be 
 between a judge of the Tribunal of Commerce and this buxom 
 butcheress, radiant with health? Life had nipped their 
 foolish ideas, and by separating them, had set them both in 
 their right place. 'Was it not the same with Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu and the Duke ? United, they would have been 
 mutually condemned to impoverished circumstances. Parted, 
 they might both retrieve their fortunes. The Duke being 
 provided for, Claire would certainly succeed in marrying 
 advantageously ; and besides he, Moulinet, would offer all 
 the help in his power. After all, perhaps, the feeling 
 uppermost in the chocolate-maker's mind was that of his 
 own good pleasure. Bligny suited him as a son-in-law, and 
 a man who had taken fortune by storm was not to be pre- 
 
.132 THE ironmaster; 
 
 vented from doing as he pleased. He had decided that 
 his daughter should be a duchess ; it must be so, and so it 
 would be. 
 
 The grandiose aspect of the Chateau de la Yarenne had, 
 moreover, prodigiously flattered Moulinet's vanity. The battle- 
 mented towers, the drawbridges, the solemn beKry which 
 gravely chimed the hours, pleased this parvenu immensely. 
 Puffed up by pride this enriched trader considered himself 
 fittingly at home in the lofty guard-room, on the walls of 
 which were painted the escutcheons of all the illustrious 
 families related by alliance to the ancient house of Estrelles. 
 He even had the impudence to instaE himself in the room that 
 the Emperor Charles Y. had occupied— an apartment which 
 had been restored with scrupulous exactitude — and it was 
 with unparalleled satisfaction that he snored in the chamber 
 where the victor of Pavia had slept. On hearing the old 
 servants of the chateau call his apartment the Emperor's 
 room, he forgot the recent restoration and the purchase of new 
 furniture. He imagined that the floor and the walls were 
 precisely the same as when the Kaiser sojourned for a few 
 hours at La Yarenne, and hence he chose this room for his 
 own use. He stretched his plebeian limbs in the colonnaded 
 bed, pompously raised on a platform and - hung with curtains 
 of Yenetian point, and he ofttimes proudly remarked : 
 ^' Charles Y. used to wind up my clock." Indeed he sincerely 
 imagined that the great Emperor spent his whole lifetime in 
 regulating clocks, whereas it is well known that this fancy 
 only seized hold of him at Saint- Just, when his powerful mind 
 sought relief from weariness. 
 
 Eor Athenais, who cared less than her father about satis- 
 fying vanity, the chateau was but a threatening fortress, 
 whence she might pounce down upon her enemy. In her 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 133 
 
 eyes the great charm of La Varenne was that its proud 
 and splendid towers rose within a distance of two leagues 
 from Beaulieu. From this estate she would command the 
 situation, and here she might wait at ease and choose her own 
 time to deal a deadly blow at the girl she hated with all the 
 strength of her soul. As soon as she was installed at the 
 chateau after the signing of the deed drawn up by Bachelin, 
 she skilfully made inquiries, and learnt that the Baroness 
 de Prefont was at Beaulieu with Claire. An adversary the 
 more did not intimidate her, however ; on the contrary, she 
 rejoiced at the thought of humiliating proud Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu in the presence of Madame de Prefont. 
 
 Moulinet and Athenais had been residing for three days at 
 the chateau, and after repeatedly exploring his park, kitchen- 
 garden, stables, and household offices in detail, the new lord 
 of La Yarenne was beginning to feel at a great loss what to 
 do with himself on his estate, when a special messenger came 
 from the town with a telegram announcing the arrival of 
 the Duke, who] had not been expected so soon. This intelli- 
 gence displeased Athenais exceedingly. She feared that 
 the Duke might try to prevent the execution of her plans. 
 Indeed Gaston would surely wish to spare the feelings of his 
 relatives, and seriously oppose anything that she might 
 attempt in view of humiliating Claire. Athenais, accord- 
 ingly, decided to act before Bligny could interfere. The 
 telegram stated that he would arrive at La Yarenne at 
 three o'clock the same afternoon. Thus there was not a 
 moment to be lost. 
 
 Moulinet, still carelessly crumpling the telegram in his 
 hand, was walking up and down the superb parterre which 
 extended in front of the chateau, when his daughter, 
 arrayed in a bewitching toilette, came towards him, veiling 
 
134 THE ironmaster; 
 
 her fixed determination under a semblance of clieerful 
 liveliness. 
 
 "Well, papa, we must go to the Chateau de Beaulieu this 
 afternoon," she said with a smile. 
 
 "And why this afternoon?" asked Moulinet in surprise. 
 * ' The Duke is coming, so wouldn't it be better to wait for 
 him ? Under his auspices we shall be much better received. 
 Let him introduce us to his relatives himself." 
 
 "No, that would never do," replied Athenais with a calm 
 expression. " There is no need of any cat's-paw between 
 Olaire de BeauKeu and me ; and, in fact, she might rightly 
 express surprise at my not informing her of my marriage 
 myself. Besides, between you and me. Monsieur de Bligny 
 would be rather awkwardly situated, and I think he would 
 feel grateful if we smoothed the way and saved him the 
 annoyance attaching to the first interview. When once the 
 situation is well defined there will be no reverting to old 
 plans, and everything will be for the best. I don't suppose 
 you fear being badly received ? " 
 
 " Badly received ! " cried Moulinet, drawing himself up to 
 his full height and resolutely plunging his hands into his 
 trousers pockets. "A man in my position, an ex- judge of 
 the Tribunal of Commerce, is never badly received ! If we 
 did not live under such a worthless government, if there were 
 a Court at the Tuileries or elsewhere, I should go there as I 
 go into my own house. Badly received, indeed ! By folks 
 who haven't sixty thousand francs a year left, perhaps ! That 
 would be singular and no mistake ! Wait a moment ! I'll 
 give orders to have the grand barouche got ready, and the 
 footmen shall wear their gala liveries." 
 
 " No, no, papa," interrupted Athenais. " The usual 
 liveries, please, and a victoria. Don't let us display our for- 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 135 
 
 tune. The riclier we are the more modest we ought to show 
 ourselves. People would laugh at our display, but they will 
 praise our simplicity." 
 
 ''Do you think so?" asked Moulinet regretfully. "But 
 it seemed to me that the livery breeches and silk stockings 
 would have created a favourable impression. However, I leave 
 the matter in your hands. You are a girl of taste, and are 
 acquainted with the customs of high society. Get ready, and 
 I wiU go to the stables and give the necessary orders." 
 
 A quarter of an hour later Athenais and her father, seated 
 in a pair-horse victoria, were driving through a cloud of dust 
 along the road to Beaulieu. 
 
 Forgetful of the resolution he had formed in a moment of 
 discouragement, Philippe had returned to the Chateau de 
 Beaulieu. To tell the truth, the Baron had not allowed him 
 to seclude himself. On the morrow of Philippe's visit to the 
 Marchioness M. de Prefont, who imitated the sixteenth Louis 
 in his passion for mechanical art, had reached the ironworks 
 at an early hour, and, taking off his coat and rolling up his 
 shirt-sleeves, had soon put himself in such a state that 
 Philippe was obliged to lend him a change of clothes and 
 keep him to lunch. After that he could scarcely help seeing 
 him back to Beaulieu. Philippe had furnished himself with 
 such excellent reasons to excuse what he called his weakness, 
 that he experienced no discomfort on reaching the terrace, 
 where he had spent two hours of mortal agony only the day 
 before. It is true that Claire had shown herself as frigid 
 and as indifferent as at the first interview, but her haughty, 
 disdainful attitude, in lieu of disconcerting the ironmaster, on 
 this occasion only irritated him ; and the more Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu pretended to ignore his presence, the more deter- 
 mined he became to compel her to notice him. 
 
136 THE ironmaster; 
 
 The Marchioness was one of those fortunate women on 
 whom nature has bestowed an admirably balanced disposition. 
 As she appeared one day, so she appeared on the morrow. 
 She had been pleased with Philippe at once, and the opinion 
 she had formed of him would never change. Thus she greeted 
 him with her usual affability and put him completely at his 
 ease. 
 
 The little Baroness, who was curious to study the character 
 of a man whom she had pictured in her imagination as a 
 kind of Cyclops, displayed for M. Derblay's benefit all the 
 graces of her frivolously vivacious mind. She found Philippe 
 amiable, though he made no effort to please, and interesting 
 in his conversation, although he was in nowise pretentious. 
 Accordingly, she declared him to be as solid morally as phy- 
 sically, and began to esteem him greatly. As for the Mar- 
 quis, he had met a most delightful companion in Suzanne. 
 They engaged together in terrible games of billiards and 
 Dutch top, in which even the more serious-minded inmates of 
 the chateau did not disdain to take part at times. 
 
 On the day that Moulinet and Athenais set out for Beaulieu 
 it chanced that a warmly disputed game of croquet had been 
 commenced between the Baroness and Octave on the one side 
 and Suzanne and the Baron on the other. The battle-field was 
 a lawn lying between the great iron entrance-gate and the 
 domestic offices. The Marchioness and Claire, who took no 
 interest in the pastime, sat together in the drawing-room, and 
 as the windows were open they could hear the thuds of the 
 mallets and the exclamations of the players whenever a 
 skilful or an unlucky stroke turned the chances of victory. 
 Philippe and Bachelin, who had been appointed umpires, 
 followed the balls and gravely measured the distances with a 
 foot-rule whenever any dispute arose. Having attentively 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 137 
 
 and conscientiously followed the game, they were about to 
 award the victory to the Baron and Suzanne, when the atten- 
 tion of players and umpires alike was attracted by a vehicle 
 which drew up abruptly in front of the iron gate. At the 
 same time a footman pulled at the bell, which responded with 
 a sonorous peal. Doubt was no longer possible, some visitors 
 were awaiting admission. 
 
 In a second, like a flight of frightened birds, the players 
 decamped, hastened up the steps and reached the drawing- 
 room just as a servant with a card on a silver salver was 
 approaching the Marchioness. Madame de Beaulieu adjusted 
 her glasses, glanced at the card, and raising her head with an 
 air of great astonishment, exclaimed: " Monsieur and Made- 
 moiselle Moulinet ! " 
 
 Silence ensued, so solemn that it seemed as if everybody 
 present had divined that some serious event was on the point 
 of happening. The Baroness was the first to recover her seK- 
 possession, and clapping her hands together, she muttered, 
 " This is really too much ! " 
 
 ''What can these people want?" asked Madame de 
 Beaulieu quietly. 
 
 As no one else seemed desirous of speaking, Bachelin ven- 
 tured to intervene : " Dear me, Madame la Marquise," said he, 
 *' as Monsieur and Mademoiselle Moulinet are new-comers in 
 the district, they have probably thought it only polite to call 
 on their neighbours. You know that it is the custom to do 
 so. They have accordingly commenced with the chateau, which 
 was only just and natural, for the Beaulieu family is one of 
 the oldest and most important in the province. Besides, did 
 not Monsieur Moulinet assert that his daughter had long been 
 acquainted with Mademoiselle Claire ? I think that these 
 reasons are more than sufficient to explain his visit." 
 
 K 
 
138 THE ironmaster; 
 
 "I suppose, aunt;" exclaimed tlie Baroness impetuous^, 
 '* that you are not going to submit to the familiaritJy of the- 
 Moulinets ? There can't be anything* in common between you 
 and them. The father is an extremely common individual, 
 not to say vulgar; and as for the daughter, she is certainly 
 the most dangerous little pest in the world. It is just like 
 these parvenus to imagine they are going to .procure them- 
 selves an introduction into society in the same way as they 
 have purchased a chateau, thanks to their millions ! But don't 
 lend a hand to it, aunt ; be brave, and resist this attempt at 
 burglary!" 
 
 "I fancy, my dear," said the Baron coldly, ''that your 
 aunt knows very well how she ought to act, and that she has 
 no need of your advice." 
 
 The Marchioness, however, was nodding her head with per- 
 plexity. Plainly enough she was greatly annoyed, and this 
 was not surprising, for with her indolent nature she held all 
 complications and difficulties in horror. At length she turned 
 towards her daughter, who had remained motionless and 
 silent, as if taking no interest in the controversy. '' Claire," 
 asked Madame de Beaulieu, ' ' what do you think I ought 
 to do?" 
 
 ^^ Mon DieUy mother," replied the young girl calmty, ''it 
 seems to me rather difficult to close our door to Monsieur and 
 Mademoiselle Moulinet. We should have to find some pre- 
 tence for doing so, and. what one could we employ ? We 
 could hardly say that we are not at home, for they must have 
 seen these ladies and gentlemen playing at croquet on the 
 lawn. We were at the window ourselves. To say simply 
 that you don't receive, would be an impolite way of acknow- 
 ledging what is after all a visit of courtesy. Would it be 
 worthy of us ? I don't think so. My idea is that you ought 
 
OR, LOVE AND PK.IDE. 139 
 
 to receive them ; but once this visit over, I should not go any 
 farther. Isn't that your opinion too ? " 
 
 " Yes, child, you are right ; we wiU do as you say. Octave, 
 tell the servant to answer that we receive." 
 
 A moment later Monsieur and Mademoiselle Moulinet 
 entered the drawing-room of the Chateau de Beaulieu. Every 
 woman has in a varying degree the stuff of an actress in her 
 nature ; and thus, despite Athenais's great emotion and the 
 rapid beating of her heart, she curtailed the embarrassment 
 of the 'first moment by an extremely audacious movement. 
 With extended hands, a smile on her lips and joyously spark- 
 ling eyes, she advanced towards Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, 
 threw her arms round her neck as if she were some dearly 
 treasured friend, and boldly exclaimed: '* Ah ! my beautiful 
 Claire, how happy I am to see you ! " 
 
 This effusion caused Mademoiselle de Beaulieu such sur- 
 prise that, despite her usual presence of mind, she was imable 
 to articulate a word of reply. Meanwhile Athenais, profiting 
 by her advantage, turned towards the Marchioness, and curt- 
 seying with perfect deference and modesty, resumed : '' It is 
 a' very great joy for me, Madame la Marquise, to find myself 
 near Mademoiselle de Beaulieu again. Since I have known 
 her — and I have known her long," she added, smiling most 
 affectionately at Claire, ''I have always endeavoured to imi- 
 tate her in every respect. I do not think it would be possible 
 to find a more perfect model." 
 
 '^ To imitate me merely?" said Claire quietly. "You are 
 really modest." 
 
 '' And this is certainly the first time you happen to be so," 
 muttered the Baroness, stepping forward. 
 
 As Athenais perceived Madame de Prefont, her delight 
 seemed to overleap all bounds ; but she did not venture to 
 
140 THE iroxmaster; 
 
 throw herself into the arms of petulant, vivacious Sophie. 
 She had too often left them badly punished, to risk in public 
 the consequences of such a close embrace. Who knew but 
 what this madcap might publicly inflict on her one of those 
 humiliations which overturn the best combined plans, and snaj) 
 asunder all the threads of the web most cunningly contrived ? 
 Thus Athenais prudently contented herself with a vigorous 
 shake of the hand which made her bracelets jingle, at the 
 same time mitigating this relative coldness by the warmth 
 of her affectionate language. She was doubly happy, she de- 
 clared ; she had not hoped to meet dear d'Hennecourt also ! 
 
 Not having been invited to Sophie's wedding, she pretended 
 to be quite ignorant of it, and thus addressed Madame de 
 Prefont by her maiden name. To put a stop to this skilful 
 equivocation Sophie had to introduce the Baron to Athenais, 
 who found some honeyed words to congratulate M. de Prefont 
 on having chosen such a charming wife. Manoeuvring on this 
 battle-field, so full of obstacles and ambuscades, with the skill 
 and composure of a great tactician. Mademoiselle Moulinet 
 paralyzed her adversaries by her audacity, stupefied her father 
 by her presence of mind, and gave every one a very high 
 opinion of her intelligence. Sophie and Claire were obliged 
 to admit that she was a far more redoubtable foe than they 
 had imagined. 
 
 In two years this young person had wonderfully improved. 
 She had become very pretty in the face. Eather short, per- 
 haps, and with a certain tendency to stoutness, which lent her 
 an air of deceitful but pleasing nonchalance, she had an 
 abundant crop of jet black hair and most expressive blue 
 eyes. It is true that her hands — encased in long gloves of 
 Swedish kid, which disappeared under the ruches of her 
 sleeve, tight fitting at the elbow — were of plebeian dimensions, 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 141 
 
 just like her feet, wliicli were apparent under lier sliort skirt ; 
 and, on being attentively examined, she seemed rather vulgar. 
 But at the first glance she was certainly prepossessing. 
 
 Moulinet had for some minutes remained in mute ecstasy, 
 thinking to himself that his daughter was certainly a superior 
 little being, born specially to be a duchess. His excessive 
 admiration suddenly made him feel sentimental. He thought 
 of his poor defunct wife, who would have been so delighted 
 and so astonished, could she have only seen her daughter. 
 This conjugal emotion brought a tear to the chocolate-maker's 
 eyes, and he drew forth a huge pocket-handkerchief and blew 
 his nose with a terrible noise. A reproving glance from 
 Athenais recalled him to the necessities of the situation, and 
 reminded him that noses should be blown with moderation in 
 aristocratic society. Thereupon, leaning towards the Mar- 
 chioness, with his arms curved and his hat pressed against 
 his heart, '' Mademoiselle de Beaulieu and Madame," he said 
 — at the same time indicating the Baroness — '' were my 
 daughter's schoolfellows at the ' Sacred Heart.' I have 
 always congratulated myseK, and I do so more than ever to- 
 day, on having sent Athenais to that establishment, which is 
 undoubtedly the best of its kind in Paris. The young persons 
 who are sent there receive a first-class education, and at the 
 same time make most desirable acquaintances." 
 
 A smile escaped the Marchioness, and looking at Moulinet : 
 " So I perceive," she said, with a touch of irony, unnoticed by 
 the chocolate-maker, though it made Athenais turn pale with 
 impotent rage. 
 
 " As for myself, Madame la Marquise," continued Moulinet, 
 delighted with this encouragement, ''I am greatly touched 
 by the favour you have done me in allowing me to present 
 you my homage. I owed it you for more reasons than one. 
 
142 THE ironmaster; 
 
 first as a new-comer in tlie district, wliere I have recently 
 purchased some property." 
 
 The Marchioness exchanged a glance with Bachelin, who 
 made a gesture implying, ^' What did I tell you ? " whereupon 
 Madame de Beaulieu responded with a nod, as much as to 
 say, " You were right." 
 
 '' Some very important property," resumed Moulinet, who 
 had been momentarily disconcerted by this exchange of signs, 
 ''LaYarenne — belonging to the D'Estelles. I was not per- 
 sonally anxious for it, but my daughter, who has great know- 
 ledge of established usages, made me understand that land is 
 the necessary complement of a great fortufle like mine. Be- 
 sides, let me confess it to you, Madame la Marquise, I am 
 liberal in my opinions, but I only understand intercourse with 
 the aristocracy." Thereupon, filliping the collar of his white 
 waistcoat with eighteenth - century grace, he smiled encourag- 
 ingly all round. 
 
 The lookers-on were stupefied, and Athenais was so crushed 
 by her father's monstrous vulgarity, that, heaving a sigh, she 
 sank helplessly on to an arm-chair. 
 
 The Marchioness on this occasion displayed all the tact 
 incumbent on her as mistress of the house, mingled with the 
 veiled impertinence of a real great lady. She did not wish 
 that Moulinet should realise how severely he was judged, and 
 yet she was unable to renounce the pleasure of indulging in a 
 few delicate epigrams. Thus she enacted an exquisite little 
 comedy for those who were able to understand the situation. 
 " Believe me, monsieur," she said to Moulinet, " I am greatly 
 touched by the sentiments you express with such candid sim- 
 plicity. They are worthy of a man who has risen by his 
 intelligence to such a position as yours." 
 
 Moulinet, who was delighted with this reply, in which he 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 143 
 
 failed to detect an under-current of irony, considered the 
 Marcliioness to be really a most worthy woman, and decided 
 to treat her with especial regard. He fancied himself on the 
 high-road to intimacy and thought he had only to clap his 
 hands together and cry ''It's settled." " That's how I am ! " 
 he exclaimed expansively. ''And if my character suits your 
 fancy; Madame la Marquise, why I think we shall get on 
 swimmingly together." 
 
 The Baroness, who was so exasperated that she could barely 
 remain calm, now rose and drew Philippe towards the recess 
 •of a window, where she eased herself in some measure by 
 exclaiming : ^' That man's a perfect monster ! " 
 
 As for Moulinet, who perceived he had created an im- 
 pression, though he had no notion that it was an unfavourable 
 one, he rattled on in the same bland, self-sufficient style : 
 " The estate of La Yarenne," said he, " is of very consider- 
 able extent. You know the castle, no doubt ? You know that 
 it is historical ? I occupy the room where Charles the Fifth 
 slept, according to what has been told me. Yes, Madame la 
 Marquise, I sleep in an emperor's bed." Then, with a gesture 
 of affected modesty, the ex- judge of the Tribunal of Commerce 
 added : "Upon my soul I'm none the prouder for it." 
 
 This time, Athenais could no loDger restrain herself. She 
 perceived that her father had in a few minutes compromised 
 her chances. So, abruptly rising, with a changed expression 
 of face and a wicked look in her eyes, she dryly exclaimed : 
 ^' Papa, ask Madame la Marquise to show you her beautiful 
 terrace. It seems a lovely view can be had from it." 
 
 "With these words, and so as to curtail her father's effu- 
 sions, she resolutely walked towards the glass door facing the 
 steps. The Marchioness rose, showing Moulinet the way, and 
 every one else- followed. Claire came the last, looking as 
 
144 THE ironmaster; 
 
 thouglitful as if she divined some approacliing catastropte. 
 Just as slie passed out of tlie drawing-room and was about to 
 put her foot on the first step, she found herself face to face 
 with Athenais, who, having skilfully contrived to leave the 
 others, was returning towards her. Claire involuntarily 
 stepped back. The eyes of the two girls met. Those of 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu wore a look of questioning astonish- 
 ment, while those of Athenais had a serious and almost 
 threatening expression. 
 
 " Suppose we step indoors ? " said Mademoiselle Moulinet, 
 taking a step towards the drawing-room. 
 
 ''Willingly," replied Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, with 
 a sudden pain at her heart. *' You wish to speak to 
 me?" 
 
 Certain now that the crisis she had divined was imminent, 
 Claire at once recovered all her seK-possession and energy. 
 She drew her beautiful figure up to its full height, and sure 
 alike of her heart and mind she awaited with superb confi- 
 dence the attack of her implacable enemy. 
 
 " You don't know how pleased I am to find myself alone 
 with you," said Athenais, without answering Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu's question. '' Since we lost sight of each other two 
 years ago, I have reflected a great deal and seen a great deal. 
 I have acquired some little experience, and my feelings have 
 greatly changed. For instance, at the convent, we were not 
 precisely good friends." 
 
 **But " began Claire, with a frown and a gesture of 
 
 haughty protest. 
 
 '' Oh! don't say the contrary! " resumed Athenais quickly. 
 " I did not like you. I was jealous of you ; I can own it now. 
 I have rise;i sufficiently since then to have the right of being 
 frank without appearing humble. But if I didn't like you, I 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 145 
 
 instinctively admired you, and my dream was to become 
 your equal." 
 
 '' My equal ! " exclaimed Claire with a bitter smile. "Why, 
 I am of sucb little account ! You eclipse me, I assure you. 
 Judge yourself more fairly — beauty, elegance, luxury — you 
 have everything that can be obtained " 
 
 "Everything, yes," said Athenais coldly; "everything 
 excepting a name ! " 
 
 "But, dear me," rejoined Claire with seeming simplicity; 
 " a name can be easily bought nowadays. There are titles at 
 all prices, petty ones, average ones, and high ones. If you 
 really care for a handle to your name, you can secure yourseK 
 the best in the market. Your means will allow you to do so." 
 
 " True," replied Athenais, trying to steady her voice, which 
 was beginning to tremble with anger. "And, in fact, just 
 now there is a question of my marrying " 
 
 "Indeed 1 But that's delightful. Allow me to congratulate 
 you sincerely." 
 
 "But I wish for something more than congratulations, 
 from you." 
 
 " Indeed ! And what, pray ? " asked Claire in astonishment. 
 
 "A little advice." 
 
 ' ' Advice — about what ? " 
 
 "About my marriage." 
 
 " You are really too flattering ! How can I advise you on 
 your family affairs? I should be greatly embarrassed to 
 do so, for we know each other so little. Could you not dis- 
 pense with my opinion ? " 
 
 "JS'o, it isn't possible," answered Athenais gravely. 
 
 " Well, I no longer understand you," rejoined Claire, who 
 felt troubled despite herself. 
 
 " Listen to me attentively," resumed Mademoiselle Moulinet. 
 
146 THE ironmaster; 
 
 •^'It is really worth your wMle. The marriage proposed to 
 me is a very grand one, a great deal above what I might 
 expect in my position, and it eclipses all my hopes. It is a 
 question of my wearing a coronet " 
 
 '' A prince's coronet? " asked Claire, trying to smile. 
 
 ''No, only a ducal one," replied Athenais, giving her rival 
 a keen look. ''If this marriage came off I should be a 
 duchess." 
 
 On hearing this, Mademoiselle de Beaulieu shuddered. It 
 seemed to her as if a veil that had hung before her mind had 
 been suddenly torn aside. She instantly divined what her 
 relatives had been hiding from her *so carefully and so long. 
 She did not doubt for a moment but that Gaston was the suitor 
 Mademoiselle Moulinet had spoken of. His delay, his silence 
 were all explained, and a feeling of bitter anguish came over 
 her. A flow of blood caused her heart to expand, her 
 beautiful face turned deadly pale, and a sigh of despair died 
 away on her lips. 
 
 Athenais perceived this sudden change with fiendish delight. 
 She exulted at the sight of Claire's anguish, and noted with 
 rapture the precipitate beating of her temples. It was a 
 delicious pleasure to be able to repay with one blow all the 
 humiliation she had undergone during the last quarter of an 
 hour. But, on seeing Claire motionless and icy cold, she 
 feared she might faint, and thus escape her ere the hateful 
 revelation was completed. " You don't ask me my suitor's 
 name ? " she said, still scrutinizing her rival, who stood half- 
 staggering beside her with her eyes gazing into space. 
 
 " N — o," stammered Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, uncon- 
 scious of what she answered, so absorbed was she in her sad 
 reflections. 
 
 " But I. must tell you who he is," replied Athenais. " It is 
 
OU, LOVE AND PRIDE. U7 
 
 my duty to do so." And then, taking lier time as if slie 
 wished to choose the best place for her thrust, she slowly 
 added, '' He is the Due de Bligny." 
 
 Claire expected the blow, for all her illusions were already 
 dispelled, and she felt certain of the Duke's faithlessness. 
 Still the name of Bligny, which was to have been hers, 
 coming as it did from Athenais, made her quiver with anguish. 
 She remained motionless, not daring to try and speak, for she 
 feared her voice would fail her. With trembling hands and 
 parched lips she drained the bitter cup of mortification to the 
 very dregs. 
 
 '^ Monsieur de Bligny is your relative," resumed Athenais, 
 who was exasperated by her rival's mournful impassibility. 
 *' He was your companion in childhood ; and I have even heard 
 it said that there was some question of marrying you together. 
 Under these circumstances — you will understand it now — I 
 thought it only right on my part to come to you loyally, and 
 consult you." 
 
 Mademoiselle de BeauKeu fancied she could discern a ray 
 of ^ hope in Athenais's seemingly generous words. Perhaps 
 matters were not so. far advanced as she had imagined. Ac- 
 cordingly she regained her courage, and determined to fight 
 on till the last extremity. *' Consult me?" she said, *'and 
 respecting what ? " 
 
 ^' Why respecting the Duke's position in reference to your- 
 self," answered Mademoiselle Moulinet with apparent sim- 
 plicity. ''You will understand, if it were really true that 
 you were engaged to each other, you might accuse me of 
 carrying off your betrothed. The Duke has asked for my 
 hand ; but I'm by no means in love with him. In fact I 
 scarcely know him. He or another, what do /care ? — Come, 
 be frank with me. Do you love him ? Would you feel hurt 
 
148 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 or even simply displeased if I married him ? — You liave only 
 to say the word and I will engage to break off the match." 
 
 Perhaps, if Claire had courageously confessed her love, 
 Athenais would have allowed herself the supreme satisfaction 
 of playing the generous, and would have renounced her 
 ambition, in view of crushing Mademoiselle de Beaulieu all 
 the better. For an instant the fate of these two girls 
 trembled in the balance. But Claire only remembered one 
 sentence of all that Mademoiselle Moulinet had said : ''The 
 Duke has asked for my hand." As she recalled it a burning 
 blush rose to her forehead, and, determined to die rather than 
 own her love for Gaston, she exerted all her will to master her 
 voice and eyes and assume an air of quiet self-possession. 
 
 " Thank you," she said, with a cold smile. " But you may 
 rest assured that I am not a girl to be forsaken and slighted. 
 Don't think that the Duke would marry any one else if we 
 were really engaged. No ! But in childhood it is the custom 
 among cousins — your relatives betroth and marry you be- 
 tween two smiles. It is a childish pastime and nothing more. 
 But reason comes with age, and the requirements of life soon 
 upset all these Httle plans. The Duke has asked for your 
 hand, you say ? Marry him by all means. It would really 
 have been a pity if you had not been united, for you are 
 worthy of each other." 
 
 Athenais turned pale as she heard this branding taunt. 
 With one thrust Claire had revenged herself for all the 
 agony she had endured. They looked at each other with 
 deadly smiles, carrying on the struggle with every outward 
 form of courtesy. It was like a, battle waged with golden 
 pins, which penetrated into the flesh as sharply and as 
 dangerously as daggers. It was like a combat with fans, 
 fingered smilingly although their perfidious fluttering was as 
 
OR, LOVE AND PR^IDE. 149 
 
 insulting as blows. A woman's warfare in truth. — aacli 
 attack combined with, refined science, and the victory so 
 ardently disputed, that both combatants would be cruelly 
 wounded ere it was won. 
 
 * * So there is really nothing to annoy you in this mar- 
 riage?" resumed Mademoiselle Moulinet, injecting subtle 
 venom into the wounds she had inflicted. " How happy your 
 answer makes me ! Think, what a dream it is ! Your 
 relative, really your equal now, and a duchess as well! " 
 
 " Just what you deserve ! " said Claire ironically. 
 
 ''Let me kiss you! " cried Athenais, darting at her rival 
 and catching her by the neck as if she wished to bite her. 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu offered no resistance, and Athenais 
 was able to print on her enemy's cheek the most hypocritical 
 kiss that ever emanated from woman's lips. Then looking 
 gravely at Mademoiselle de BeauKeu, she exclaimed : ''You 
 must know that you have a sincere, devoted friend in me." 
 
 Claire had sufficient strength to answer: "You have just 
 given me convincing proof of that." And then feeling that 
 her limbs were failing her, she sank on to the sofa. 
 
 It fortunately happened that when the Baroness noted the 
 prolonged absence of the rivals, she became nervous, and, 
 suspecting some act of perfidy on Athenais's part, she returned 
 as soon as possible to the house. At this moment, indeed, she 
 entered the drawing-room, and when at the first glance she 
 perceived Claire so pale and crushed, and Athenais erect and 
 radiant, she divined in a great measure what had taken 
 place. 
 
 ' ' Why, what have you two been doing, shut up in here for 
 the last half-hour?" she asked; and then leaning towards 
 her cousin she anxiously added : " What is the matter ? " 
 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu made no audible reply, but with 
 
150 THE ironmaster; or, love and pride. 
 
 a gesture of despair site pointed to her rival, who was com- 
 posedly putting on her gloves again, like a duellist who has 
 just killed his adversary. This supplicating appeal for assist- 
 ance quite upset the Baroness. Anger flew to her brain, her 
 tiny ears became fiery red, and darting towards Mademoiselle 
 Moulinet with a threatening gesture, she showed her the door 
 exclaiming : " You will just please go " 
 
 But ere she had time to finish her phrase, Athena'is, with 
 wonderful presence of mind, intervened so ingeniously that 
 one might have supposed she did not understand these words 
 as an insulting order to quit the premises. ''Yes, I am going 
 — to join my father on the terrace," she said ; and then turn- 
 ing to Claire : " TiU by-and-by." 
 
 Thereupon composedly and leisurely, so as to show that 
 she was victorious and abandoned the battle-field which be- 
 longed to her of her own free-will, she advanced to the glass 
 door and left the room. 
 
YIII. 
 
 Mademoiselle Moulinet liad hardly disappeared, when 
 Claire, bounding to her feet, sprang towards the Baroness, 
 her eyes all aflame with the rage she no longer had need to 
 restrain. "You knew it— you knew that he was going to 
 marry ! " she cried. "Why did you not tell me of it ? " And 
 as Madame de Prefont remained silent in her astonishment, 
 " Betrayed ! Forsaken ! " resumed Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, 
 wringing her hands in a paroxysm of mad despair, ' ' and for 
 whom ? For that creature ? And you allowed me to learn it 
 from her lips ! She was left free to deal me such a blow ! 
 But you were her accomplices then ! Isn't there one among 
 you that loves me? And he — he — for money! The 
 scoundrel ! " 
 
 Dismayed by the sight of this furious grief, the Baroness 
 tried to calm her cousin. "Oh! Claire," she cried, "for 
 Heaven's sake be calm. You frighten me ! " 
 
 But Mademoiselle de Beaulieu had lost all power over 
 herself. Her violent nature, so long kept under control, had 
 dashed every restraint aside. The efforts she had made 
 during that horrible interview now seemed to her so many 
 cowardly acts of weakness. She asked herself with stupe- 
 faction, how she had been able to forbear hurling all the 
 insults that now rose to her lips, at the head of the girl who 
 had so impudently exulted in her anguish. She regretted 
 
152 
 
 she liad not struck lier and dealt lier grievous wounds. Her 
 cries were full of exasperation at tlie tliouglit that her lover 
 had been stolen from her; her fury disregarded all social 
 conventionalities ; she had no care for what others might 
 think, but strode to and fro, stamping on the floor, feverish 
 with excitement, and deaf to the appeals of reason. The 
 blood of the old barons who meted out justice, high and low, 
 was boiling in Mademoiselle de Beaulieu's veins, and she 
 dreamt of inflicting infamous cruel tortures upon her hated 
 rival. 
 
 At last, however, the consciousness that she was powerless 
 returned to her, and crushed her again. She realised that 
 all her hopes were destroyed, that no prospect of revenge 
 existed. Her overstrained nerves suddenly relaxed, and with 
 her bosom heaving with sobs of anguish and tears fast 
 streaming down her face, she fell into the Baroness's arms. 
 ''Ah! How miserable I am!" she stammered, ^'how 
 miserable ! " 
 
 Madame de Prefont, who was deeply grieved, pressed her 
 cousin to her bosom, and supported her heavy head upon 
 her shoulder. Then, in the gentle language which 'mothers 
 use to quiet the sorrow and allay the sufferings of children, 
 she endeavoured to stanch the wounds in Claire's lacerated 
 heart. The poor girl wept despairingly; but at least her 
 tears did her good service, for they washed away the venom 
 which Athena'is had injected into her wounds and mitigated 
 their excruciating pain. As Mademoiselle de Beaulieu re- 
 covered consciousness, she blushed at the thought that she 
 had given way to such excessive rage. Now, her only object 
 was to master her feelings, galling though they were, and by. 
 a supreme effort of pride she succeeded in doing so. 
 
 When the Marchioness reached the drawing-room — terrified 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 153 
 
 by an announcement whicli Moulinet liad just confided to her, 
 she found her daughter, if not resigned — resignation was 
 so far impossible— at all events courageous and dignified. 
 Breathless with mingled haste and emotion, Madame de 
 Beaulieu gazed in affright at Claire, who was still livid and 
 trembling. Then, after seeking for some words which failed 
 her in her agitation, she threw herself into her daughter's 
 arms, sobbing piteously, '' Ah ! my poor, poor child ! " 
 
 "You know it, mother?" asked Claire, the tears starting 
 from her eyes afresh. 
 
 ''The father has told me everything this very moment; 
 and when I think," cried the Marchioness, raising her arms 
 to heaven in her indignation, ''when I think it was you 
 who advised me to receive them, so as not to seem impolite !" 
 
 " Ah ! I am well rewarded for it," said Claire bitterly. " I 
 was very imprudent. I ought to have shunned that — per- 
 son carefully. I knew so well what sentiments she enter- 
 tained towards me. Perhaps we girls may have teased her 
 at the convent, but how cruelly she revenges herself. She 
 has never forgiven nor forgotten. She has waited for the 
 propitious hour, and struck the happiest of her old school- 
 fellows in the heart. Ah! she has broken my life. The 
 Duke's faithlessness will always weigh upon me, and even 
 if I were mad enough to think of marrying, " after such 
 humiliation, what man would ever consent to take me for 
 his wife?" 
 
 " What man, indeed! " cried the Marchioness vivaciously. 
 " Why all those who have eyes to see you, and ears to hear 
 you ! If any one is disgraced, my child, in this sad circum- 
 stance it is the Duke, not you. And if you care to marry you 
 will have plenty of suitors to select from in our society and 
 elsewhere. A girl like Mademoiselle de Beaulieu does not go 
 
 L 
 
154 THE ironmaster; 
 
 a-begging for a husband. Why, less than six months ago I 
 had to decline the proposals of several honourable families, 
 and the suitors who then asked for your hand were so dis- 
 appointed on being refused that I am sure they would gladly 
 come forward again if they thought there was any chance of 
 success." 
 
 But Claire made a gesture of discouragement. ^' After the 
 Due de Bligny, mother, I can only marry a man who is 
 superior to him in every respect, or else a man whom I might 
 seem to love. My only possible justification in the eyes of 
 society can be the grandeur or the impulsiveness of my choice. 
 But you know very well, mother, that all this is impossible ; 
 after such a deception a girl like myseK can only be wedded 
 to religion. I can only look forward to a convent now." 
 
 " Come, child," said the Marchioness gently. ^' You are 
 wandering. A convent indeed ! "Well, and don't you think of 
 us ? No, you are too young to have a right to despair. With 
 your moral qualities and beauty the future surely has some 
 compensation in reserve for you. In fact, I may perhaps tell 
 you that there is some one very near here who would accept 
 your hand on bended knees." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu raised her proud eyebrows slowly, 
 and turned towards her mother. " Monsieur Derblay ? " she 
 said quietly-. 
 
 '^ Yes, Monsieur Derblay," replied the Marchioness. " But 
 I only mention his name as an example. Who could approach 
 you without loving you ? Shall we return to Paris ? Would 
 you like to go to Switzerland with Monsieur and Madame 
 de Pref ont ? Speak, I am ready to consent to anything that 
 could satisfy or console you. What would you like to do ? " 
 
 " Ah ! do I even know ? " cried Claire in a transport. " I 
 wish I could disappear at once — fly from everybody, escape 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 165 
 
 from myseK. I liold everytlimg in hatred and contempt. 
 Alas! whycan'tldie?" 
 
 " Death, my dear child, is the only evil beyond all remedy. 
 If all the women whom their lovers or husbands abandoned 
 died, the world would be depopulated. Men are very, very 
 rarely faithful, and when they don't deceive you beforehand, 
 they do so afterwards." 
 
 At that same moment, as if in speaking of man's incon- 
 stancy the Marchioness had invoked the ungrateful fellow 
 who had just caused so many sighs and tears, the noise of a 
 furious gallop resounded, and through the open gateway the 
 Due de Bligny dashed into the courtyard on a horse that was 
 white with foam. 
 
 He sprang at once to the ground, and throwing his reins to 
 a stupefied servant, darted up the front steps. He walked 
 straight towards the drawing-room, and would have entered 
 it if the Baron and Bachelin, hastening to meet him, had not 
 stopped him in the hall. Pale, with a contracted brow, the 
 Duke tried to prevent them from barring the way. ''Are 
 Monsieur and Mademoiselle Moulinet still here?" he asked 
 in a quivering voice ; and as the Baron replied affirmatively, 
 *' My aunt ? " he added, " I must see the Marchioness at once. 
 Perhaps it is not too late." 
 
 '' Undeceive yourself, Duke," gravely replied Monsieur de 
 Prefont, who now understood the cause of Gaston's precipita- 
 tion. *' It is too late, for Monsieur and Mademoiselle Mou- 
 linet have already spoken." 
 
 The Duke heaved a bitter sigh, and sinking on to one of 
 the carved benches of the hall he gazed sorrowfully at the 
 Baron and Bachelin, and said, '^ What can I do now to remedy 
 the harm that has been done ? " 
 
 ''Alas ! the harm is irreparable, Monsieur le Due," replied 
 
166 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Baclielin in a tone of respectful reproacli. " Tlie best thing 
 you can do now is to leave without trying to see Madame de 
 Beaulieu." 
 
 ''Oh! I can't consent to that," hastily responded Graston, 
 rising to his feet again. "The Marchioness will blame me 
 and hold me responsible for what has occurred here this after- 
 noon ; but I must explain my conduct to her. I must show 
 her that I took no part in this infamous step. I will do what 
 she pleases. But I wish to see her, speak to her, and weep 
 with her. You can see that what has happened drives me to 
 despair." 
 
 The Duke's features wore such an expression of genuine 
 affliction that although the Baron and Bachelin were strongly 
 prepossessed against him, they could not help feeling touched. 
 
 ''Very well," said Bachelin. '' Monsieur de Prefont will be 
 kind enough to keep you company, Monsieur le Due, while I 
 go and ask Madame de Beaulieu if she will accede to your 
 request." Thereupon, leaving the two cousins together, 
 Bachelin passed round on to the terrace, and discreetly knocked 
 at the glass door of the drawing-room. 
 
 In the meantime, as if totally unconscious of the perturba- 
 tion reigning inside the chateau, Philippe, Moulinet, Suzanne, 
 Athenais, and the Marquis still continued conversing on the 
 terrace. The sun was slowly sinking behind the horizon, 
 tinging the greenish blue sky with purple streaks. With 
 evening a delightful calm descended into the valley, already 
 full of shade. The bell of the church of Pont-Avesnes resounded 
 clearly and solemnly in the distance, announcing the Mass of 
 the Departed for the morrow.*' Such profound peace per- 
 
 * November 2nd is the Day of the Dead {Les Tre^sses) in the Eoman 
 calendar. Services for the souls in purgatory are then celebrated at all 
 the churches. — Trans. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 157 
 
 vaded the beautiful landscape that Athenais experienced its 
 influence. She felt less aggressive, and having triumphed 
 over her rival so completely, she thought of treating her more 
 leniently in the future. 
 
 On entering the drawing-room Bachelin found its three 
 inmates a prey to inexpressible emotion. When, by one of 
 the windows looking on to the courtyard, Claire perceived 
 the Duke gaUop through the gateway, she sprang to her feet 
 stupefied and distracted. She tried to speak, but was unable, 
 and stretching out her hands towards her faithless lover she 
 gave way to hysterical laughter and stuttering. It seemed as 
 if she were going mad, and the Marchioness and the Baroness 
 were terrified. They hastened to the poor girl, who was 
 quivering convulsively, and whose lips were already white. 
 They feared she was about to faint, and wished to ring for 
 assistance ; but, with an imperious gesture, Claire prevented 
 them from doing so. Making a stupendous effort she managed 
 to articulate these words through her clenched teeth, *'No, 
 nothing, no one. Leave me, I shall be right soon." 
 
 She sat down. A cold perspiration started from her fore- 
 head, which the Baroness carefully wiped. The Marchioness 
 divested herself of her shawl and her wooUen fichu, and 
 wrapped them round her daughter, who was shivering. Sup- 
 ported by cushions, but with her head bowed down, Claire sat 
 there as motionless as if she were dozing ; but her bright eyes, 
 which stared fixedly, obstinately at the carpet, showed that 
 she was not asleep. She was plunged in profound meditation, 
 and there was a deep crease between her eyebrows, testifying 
 to the great mental effort she was making. After a few minutes 
 the colour returned to her cheeks again, a sigh relieved her 
 breast, and she abruptly cast the*wrappers with which her 
 mother had covered her on one side. 
 
158 THE ironmaster; 
 
 On hearing Bachelin open the glass door she turned her 
 head, and desirous of hiding her sufferings, contrived to smile 
 at the notary. The latter wore an air of consternation, and 
 approached Madame de Beaulieu on tiptoe, as if he had been 
 in a sick-room. Bowing even lower than was his wont, as if 
 indeed he felt ashamed of his mission, he began, ' '■ Pray for- 
 give me, Madame la Marquise, but what has happened is so 
 extraordinary ' ' 
 
 ''I know it," interrupted the Marchioness hastily. *' The 
 Duke is there. WeU ? " 
 
 "Well, madame,*' resumed the notary, quite out of counte- 
 nance, "in spite of aU we have said to him he insists on seeing 
 you." 
 
 " That is strange audacity ! " cried the Marchioness, spring- 
 ing to her feet with unusual vivacity and walking towards the 
 door. 
 
 "Where are you going, mother ? " asked Claire. 
 
 " I'm going to have him turned out of the house, as he 
 deserves to be," replied Madame de Beaulieu, who was red 
 with indignation. 
 
 For a second Claire remained silent, reflecting, as if she hesi- 
 tated to take some serious resolution ; then, shaking her head, 
 she rejoined, " Ko, mother. You must not turn the Due de 
 Bligny out of the house. It would be better to receive him." 
 
 "Eeceive him?" repeated the Marchioness, stupefied, and 
 asking herself if her daughter had really lost her mind. 
 
 " Yes, receive him, and receive him politely, too. I would 
 not for anything in the world have him think that I have 
 suffered from his faithlessness. To be mourned by such a 
 girl as me, he — he would be too proud of it. Anything rather 
 than his insulting pity. No, receive him. We can surely open 
 the door to him, since we did not close it to his intended wife." 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 159 
 
 *' But what do you mean to do ? " asked Madame de Beaulieu 
 nervously. 
 
 " I mean to revenge myself ! " replied Claire with, a frightful 
 expression of anger. Then turning towards Bachelin, ''Be 
 kind enough," she added, " to ask the Duke to go round on to 
 the terrace and wait there for a moment. Don't bring him in 
 here till I make a sign to you from the window ; but, in the 
 meanwhile, pray send Monsieur Derblay to me." 
 
 The Baroness and the Marchioness exchanged glances of 
 astonishment. They were unable to divine why Claire acted 
 in this manner. But Bachelin was more perspicuous, and 
 guessing that his plans were on the point of succeeding, he 
 hastened away with the alacrity of a young man. A moment 
 later Philippe entered the drawing-room. 
 
 ''Mother and you, Sophie, dear," said Claire, "pray step 
 a little on one side, so that I may speak privately with Monsieur 
 Derblay." 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu and the Baroness at once retired into 
 the recess of a window, and, greatly perplexed, waited for the 
 finish of the interview. Philippe, who was in a state of intense 
 emotion, for he realised that his fate was trembling in the 
 balance— and, moreover, he had been warned by Bachelin 
 that matters were fast reaching a crisis — stood motionless, 
 with bowed head, in front of the girl he adored. 
 
 " Monsieur," said Claire, addressing him personally for the 
 first time, "our old friend and excellent adviser, Maitre 
 Bachelin, has told my mother that you did me the honour to 
 aspire to my hand." 
 
 Philippe did not speak, but bowed in token of assent. 
 
 "I believe you to be an honourable man," continued 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu firmly, " and I presume that in 
 forming such projects you were, like my relatives, aware that 
 
160 THE ironmaster; 
 
 the Due de Bligny liad — long ago, perhaps — discarded his 
 engagements " 
 
 '* Yes, mademoiselle, I was aware of it," replied Philippe, 
 speaking with difficulty. '' And pray believe that if it de- 
 pended on me, even at this moment, to assure your happiness, 
 by bringing the Duke back to you, I would not hesitate, even 
 at the price of my life." 
 
 " I thank you," said Claire ; '' but all ties between the Due 
 de Bligny and myself are now for ever severed, and the most 
 certain proof I can give you of it is that if you still retain 
 the same views I am ready to offer you my hand." 
 
 Mademoiselle de BeauKeu's voice grew faint as she spoke, 
 and Philippe divined rather than heard the last words. At the 
 same moment there flashed through his mind a recollection of 
 the day when his sister, seeing him so sad and discouraged, 
 laughingly declared, '' You'll see; she will come herself and 
 ask you to do her the favour of becoming her husband." 
 
 Thus Suzanne's prediction was realised. Enlightened by 
 her affection, this child had foreseen her brother's happiness. 
 He was not dreaming ; it was all really true. Claire herself 
 offered him her hand. Deep joy pervaded Philippe's heart, 
 and taking hold of that charming hand, which he had so 
 often despaired of ever feeling in his own, he printed on the 
 tips of the icy fingers a timid but most delicious kiss. 
 
 "I have a favour to ask of you, monsieur," resumed 
 Claire. ''I should like you to do all you can to let it be 
 supposed that our engagement dates from several days ago. 
 I have no need to explain to you the reason of this request. 
 It is prompted by my pride. Alas ! you can have no illusions 
 as to the state of my heart ; but I assure you you will find 
 in me a faithful and loyal wife. Pray leave me now, but do 
 not go too far, for I may have need of your presence." And 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 161 
 
 letting Philippe depart, she made a sign to Bachelin, so that 
 he might now bring the Duke into the drawing-room. 
 
 The notary had occupied Bligny very skilfully during the few 
 minutes that the interview between Mademoiselle de Beau- 
 lieu and M. Derblay had lasted, and when Philippe left the 
 drawing-room with a radiant face, he had only just opened the 
 door communicating with the terrace. Moulinet and Athenais 
 were astounded on perceiving Gaston. When Napoleon, wait- 
 ing for Grouchy, saw Blucher's advance guard emerge from 
 the woods of Frischermont, he was not more overcome than 
 the chocolate-maker's daughter on this occasion. Nothing 
 was more calculated to compromise the success of her com- 
 binations than the Duke's presence at Beaulieu. A feeling of 
 acute anxiety came over her. She had considered the victory 
 as won ; but was there a disastrous humiliating defeat in store 
 ifor her after all ? "What would happen when Gaston and 
 Claire found themselves face to face ? Had matters really 
 come to such a pass that all reconciKation was impossible ? 
 Or would the two lovers, exchanging a single glance, feel that 
 they still belonged to each other, and in a supreme embrace 
 exchange the most solemn and binding of oaths ? 
 
 On his side, Moulinet was excessively surprised, but his 
 surmises by no means went so far as his daughter's. He did 
 not understand why the Duke had not waited for him at La 
 Varenne, but he had no suspicion of Gaston's real object in 
 coming to Beaulieu. Accordingly he approached his future 
 son-in-law with an amicable smile, held out his hand, and 
 remained thunderstruck by the glance which Bligny gave him 
 as he passed by without even bowing to Athenais. However, 
 he had still sufficient self-possession to follow the Duke into 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 The Marchioness and the Baroness had immediately impro- 
 
162 THE ironmaster; 
 
 vised a mise-en-scene, so that when Bligny entered, he per- 
 ceived the Marchioness ensconced, as usual, in her easy- 
 chair, the Baroness standing near the chimney-piece with her 
 arms crossed, so that Gaston might not offer to shake hands 
 with her as was his wont, and Mademoiselle de Beaulieu seated 
 between her mother and Sophie, with her back to the window, 
 so that the traces of her suffering should be less apparent. 
 It was Claire's beautiful hair that first attracted the Duke's 
 attention. He quivered despite himself, and, seized with 
 acute emotion, he was on the point of hastening to the girl 
 whom he still tenderly loved, and throwing himself at her 
 feet, careless of the consequences of this passionate demon- 
 stration ; but the calm, severe look in the Marchioness's eyes 
 restrained him ; and, bowing low before the noble woman who 
 had been his second mother, ''Madame la Marquise," he 
 said, in a husky voice, ''my dear aunt, you see my emotion 
 — my regret — my grief ! On arriving at La Varenne at — this 
 gentleman's house (the Duke was apparently ashamed to pro- 
 nounce the name of Moulinet) I learned what an unpardon- 
 able step " 
 
 "But, Monsieur le Due," interrupted the ex- judge of the 
 Tribunal of Commerce, who evidently felt hurt. 
 
 Turning towards his future father-in-law with superlative 
 haughtiness, the Duke resumed, "A most improper step, 
 monsieur, and I wish to have it known that I was in no 
 degree your accomplice. I may have greatly erred, I may 
 have acted lightly and ungratefully, but as for having autho- 
 rised such outrageous conduct towards my relatives, no, on 
 my honour, no !" 
 
 " A simple visit of politeness," muttered Moulinet, who was 
 impressed by the Duke's energy. "I really don't under- 
 stand " 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 163 
 
 '' You don't understand," interrupted Gaston with, crush- 
 ing contempt ; '' that is your only excuse ! " 
 
 Moulinet, however, was too much infatuated with his own 
 importance to allow himself to be treated any longer in this 
 style, even by a man whom he considered to be of superior 
 origin. So, assuming a dignified air, and bowing gravely, he 
 began, ''If I have acted in any respect wrongly, my son-in- 
 law, pray tell me how. I am ready to offer all reparation in 
 my power." 
 
 But Gaston's irritation was increased tenfold on hearing 
 Moulinet call him "my son-in-law," and, discarding all 
 restraint, he silenced the ex- judge for good, by exclaiming, 
 '' Enough, monsieur !" in a voice which was as cutting as a 
 slash from a riding- whip. Then, for the first time since he 
 had entered the room, daring to look at Claire, who sat 
 motionless and imperturbable, he resumed, ''Aunt, I owe 
 you an explanation ; pray allow me to give it you. Claire, I 
 cannot leave the room till you have forgiven me." 
 
 On hearing these words, which were addressed to her 
 personally, and as if she had been waiting for them. 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu rose proudly to her feet, and 
 looked at her lover with amazing serenity. "But you owe 
 us no explanation, Duke," said she, "and you need no 
 forgiveness. I have been told that you intend to marry this 
 gentleman's daughter" — and in pronouncing these last words 
 she assumed a supremely contemptuous tone. " You had the 
 right to do so, it seems to ,me. Were you not as free as 
 myself?" 
 
 When the Duke heard this unexpected language, he asked 
 himself if he were dreaming. He looked at Claire, the 
 Baroness, and his aunt, and noticed no apparent emotion, 
 sadness, or anger. He had fancied he would have to wipe 
 
164 . THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 tears away, and he found Tiimself confronted by smiles. 
 Was it possible! Had Mademoiselle de Beaulieu so tbo- 
 rougbly ceased to care for Mm during that year of absence 
 wHch be bad so fatally employed ? 
 
 **Your betrothed came to tell me of the bappy news," 
 resumed Claire. ^' It was only rigbt, and I do not wish to 
 remain in arrear witb you." 
 
 Tbereupon, approacbing tbe open doorway looking on to 
 tbe terrace, sbe made a sign to Pbilippe. Atbena'is, wbo was 
 dying of curiosity, boldly followed tbe ironmaster, and a 
 moment later all tbe inmates of tbe cbateau were assembled 
 in tbe drawing-room. 
 
 "I must introduce you to eacb otber, gentlemen," said 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, witb amazing composure; and 
 pointing to Gaston, witb a wave of ber band, sbe exclaimed, 
 " Monsieur le Due de Bligny, my cousin." Tben, turning 
 towards ber faitbless lover, and defying bim, as it were, witb 
 ber proud gaze, "Duke," sbe added, "Monsieur Derblay, 
 my future busband ! " 
 
 If a thunderbolt bad fallen on tbe cbateau, it would not 
 bave bad a greater moral effect tban tbese last words. Tbe 
 Duke staggered. Atbenais felt giddy, and turned asby pale. 
 
 Tbe Baron and tbe Baroness exchanged looks of surprise. 
 BacbeHn and Suzanne alone evinced no astonishment, tbe 
 former because he had toiled to bring this result about, and 
 tbe latter because she so loved her brother that sbe had never 
 doubted but that Mademoiselle de Beaidieu would end by 
 appreciating his sterling merits. 
 
 The Duke at least showed that he bad not practised diplo- 
 macy unprofitably. He speedily recovered, and, assuming 
 an irreproachable attitude, smiled graciously at M. Derblay. 
 " Keceive my congratulations, monsieur," be said, in a toler- 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 165 
 
 ably steady voice. '' You marry a woman whom very few of 
 us would have been worthy of." 
 
 Although Athenais smarted under the counterblow which 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu'had thus dealt her, she realised 
 that she must at all events show a bold front. So, stepping 
 forward in her turn, and looking at Claire attentively, she 
 exclaimed, *'A11 my congratulations, dear!" And then, in 
 an undertone, she added, with a perfidious smile, "A love 
 match, no doubt ! " 
 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu tottered, and abruptly reaKsed all 
 the horror of her position. The man she worshipped was 
 there before her ; but, alas ! he would soon depart with her 
 rival. Claire's unexpected revelation had dispelled the Duke's 
 anger, and he stood beside Athenais, holding her finger-tips 
 as he talked to her, and laughing with the careless gaiety of 
 a happy man. And she, Claire, prompted by her ungovern- 
 able pride, had just decided her life, and forfeited her liberty. 
 She had promised her hand to a man she could not love, for 
 her heart was still full of the dear and painful remembrance 
 of another! She glanced at the Duke in mortal anguish. 
 She was about to cross the room, draw him away from 
 Athenais' s exaggerated coquetry, and tell him the whole 
 truth ; but he looked so calm, so indifferent, so light-hearted, 
 that her pride and anger returned, and saved her from this 
 weakness. She despairingly determined that she would not 
 appear to have been forsaken. She resolutely sacrificed her 
 whole future to the victory of her seK- esteem, and, including 
 Bligny and Mademoiselle Moulinet in the same triumphant 
 glance, she muttered, " My'marriage shall take place before 
 theirs!" 
 
IX. 
 
 The preparations for tlie wedding were carried on witli in- 
 credible speed. Every one at Beaulieu and Pont-Avesnes 
 seemed anxious to further Claire's scheme. Philippe started 
 abruptly for Berry to obtain certain family papers he needed, 
 and at the same time the Marquis set out for Paris. The 
 postal and telegraphic services were constantly employed to 
 urge on dilatory milliners, modistes, and other purveyors of 
 feminine raiment, and a most agitated, unsettled life followed 
 the calm in which the Marchioness had been living for a year. 
 
 The worthy lady, who was somewhat dazed by the rapidity 
 of events, sanctioned her daughter's sudden determination 
 without finding strength enough even to discuss its bearings. 
 Belying on Bachelin, who had given her such a favourable 
 account of M. Derblay, and touched, moreover, by the disin- 
 terested delicacy of the ironmaster's conduct, she saw the 
 marriage decided on with astonishment rather than anxiety. 
 She regretted that Claire had not waited a little while in view 
 of finding a husband in their own circle ; but she asked her- 
 self if a rich man of noble birth would have consented to take 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, dowerless, in this positive, prac- 
 tical century. The reply seemed so doubtful to her that she 
 at last began to consider it rather fortunate M. Derblay had 
 appeared on the scene just at the critical* moment. 
 
 Claire did all that she was capable of to dispel her mother's 
 
THE ironmaster; or, love and pride. 167 
 
 distrust and to set Iter mind at ease ; for in her presence slie 
 showed a smiling face, and displayed every outward sign of 
 happiness. The Baroness alone was acquainted with her suffer- 
 ings and regrets. ' She witnessed her cousin's fits of weakness, 
 and calmed her attacks of anger. In the seclusion of her 
 room Claire would spend days without saying a word, phy- 
 sically and morally crushed, unable even to move. Stretched 
 on a sofa, with a contracted brow and an aching head, and a 
 dark look in her eyes, she would dwell incessantly on the 
 cruel episodes of the rupture, unable to accustom herself to 
 this sudden collapse of all her hopes. She asked herseK how 
 she could have deserved such misfortune, and found no reason 
 for seK-reproach. The catastrophe was entirely due to her 
 rival's hatred and her lover's cowardice. Considering herself 
 to be the victim of pitiless foes — a martyr selected by im- 
 placable Fate — Claire at last began to indulge in thoughts of 
 revenge. She looked upon life as a battle in which each 
 combatant must be steeled with contempt to avoid being 
 wounded, and armed with audacity if anxious to conquer. 
 She uprooted from her mind all the scruples which had placed 
 her, bound and defenceless, at the mercy of her adversaries. . 
 She vowed that nothing should prevent her from attaining 
 her object in the future. Her heart became bitter and her 
 mind disturbed. She grew unrelenting and spiteful, till 
 nought remained of the noble, disinterested, tender-hearted 
 Claire. She was now harsh and selfish, and egotistical, 
 setting her own good pleasure above everything else. It 
 seemed as if the flames of grief and pain had withered her 
 heart. Even her style of beauty changed ; it was as if she 
 had been transformed into marble, for she was as cold and as 
 stately as a statue. 
 
 Eeflecting on the approaching change in her life, she deter- 
 
163 THE ironmaster; 
 
 mined on a plan of conduct from wldch. she resolved slie would 
 never swerve. She felt thorough, indifference for M. Derblay. 
 She was in no degree grateful to him for his blind devotion. 
 Left ignorant of the ironmaster's generous intentions, she 
 attributed his ready deference to all her wishes exclusively to 
 his ambition to become her husband. Was it not natural he 
 should consent to everything in view of marrying such a 
 wealthy girl and entering such a noble family? She even 
 had some contempt for the readiness with which M. Derblay 
 had enacted his part in the humiliating comedy played before 
 the Duke, and in fact Philippe's admirable generosity seemed 
 to Claire only so much abasement. She said to herself that 
 he would prove a yielding, pliant husband, easily managed ; 
 and this was exactly what she wished for. If M. Derblay 
 showed himself docile, she would interest herself in his favour, 
 take his future in hand, and by means of all the influence 
 within her reach enable him to rise to a very high position. 
 The importance of her husband's station would in some degree 
 compensate for his lack of noble birth. After all, they lived 
 in a century of parvenus. 
 
 The little Baroness became anxious on noting with what 
 terrible calmness her cousin prepared for a union which was 
 surely not one of inclination, and she resolved to try and dis- 
 cover what was really passing in Mademoiselle de Beaulieu's 
 mind. She began to question her, varying her inquiries, and 
 darting from one subject to another, but at the same time 
 retaining her usual frivolous, careless manner as a veil where- 
 with to conceal her purpose. It was in vain that Claire tried 
 to affect indifference. Despite her efforts bitter feelings 
 rose to her lips, and she allowed the Baroness to perceive how 
 grievously her wound was bleeding.' At last, having confided 
 in Madame de Prefont, she experienced immense relief. The 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 169 
 
 Baroness learned how acutely tlie proud young girl was tor- 
 tured. She was able to admire her courage and divine her 
 resolutions. With the experience derived from three years 
 of married life, she realised all the gravity of Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu's conduct. By showing her things as they really 
 were, she tried to turn her from her purpose, but Claire's 
 resolutions, based on her ungovernable pride, were not to be 
 shaken. 
 
 It was a kind of lex talionis that Claire had devised for her 
 own especial use. Others had made her suffer, now others 
 should suffer through her. So much the worse for them if 
 they were innocent. Was she guilty ? As injustice was the 
 law of humanity, she would cast equity and duty on one side 
 and sacrifice everjrthing to her own good pleasure. She began 
 to look upon human beings as implements, and determined 
 to make them march, men and women alike, like pawns on a 
 chessboard, so as to win the game she had in mind. Her 
 only object now was to avenge herself on Athenais and to 
 humiliate the Duke. In view of this sorry satisfaction she 
 was prepared for every sacrifice. And the first victim she 
 selected was none other than passionate, generous-hearted 
 Philippe, whose only dream was to restore to her the happi- 
 ness and peace of mind she had lost. 
 
 Madame de Prefont severely blamed Claire's despotic in- 
 tentions. The cold manner in which Mademoiselle de Beaulieu 
 mingled what was just and what was unjust together, solely 
 guided by her egotism, seemed so senseless to the Baroness 
 that she ascribed it to a passing mental aberration, destined 
 to subside with time. Still she endeavoured to show her 
 friend that it was not so easy as she imagined to tyrannize 
 over human beings possessed of such gifts as thought and 
 action. Certainly M. Derblay could only be greatly flattered 
 
170 THE ironmaster; 
 
 by the prospect of entering the Beanlieu family, and no doubt 
 lie was ready for any sacrifice tliat miglit conduce to his 
 marriage witli Claire. In exchange for the service he had 
 rendered her by enabKng her to crush her enemies at a 
 moment when they thought her vanquished and humiliated, 
 she had promised him her hand. That was all well and good. 
 But what was the life she held in reserve for him, and how 
 would Philippe behave when, on coming to his wife with open 
 arms and words of affection on his lips, he found her cold and 
 solemn ? Mademoiselle de Beaulieu considered that the iron- 
 master was solely guided by ambition in wishing to marry 
 her. But might it not happen that he was in love with her ? 
 Nowadays, no doubt, the pecuniary side of the question was 
 not lost sight of in matrimony. A man did not neglect to 
 inquii'e into the amount of his wife's dower ; and yet all the 
 same, there were still husbands who loved their wives, and 
 might not M. Derblay be one of these phenomena? 
 
 Claire had only looked at one side of the question, and the 
 Baroness told her so, and insisted on the point. In married 
 life the wife was seldom the master, and the husband's cha- 
 racter was usually inclined to domination. Now M. Derblay 
 seemed to know very well what he wished for, and suppose 
 he revolted and upset all the plans which Claire had pre- 
 pared ? Supposing their two wills clashed together, what 
 would be the result ? This was no passing alliance, of a few 
 hours' duration, such as is signed behind a fan, in view of 
 carrying on some ordinary drawing-room intrigue or resisting 
 some social machination. No, it would last for a lifetime. And 
 the auxiliary could not be dismissed with the mere permission 
 to kiss one's finger-tips as a reward for the service he had 
 rendered. He was a husband, and his wife was bound to 
 him by ties that could not be severed. This should be reflected 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 17 1 
 
 upon before matters were carried any further. Once married, 
 no ''crying off" would be possible. Marriage was not a 
 one-act comedy tbat can be disposed of in a few minutes. It 
 might become a drama if Claire were not careful; and so, 
 perhaps, it would be better for her to pause whilst there was 
 still time. 
 
 These reasons failed to touch Mademoiselle de Beaulieu. 
 Hather than modify her plans, she was prepared for any risk. 
 She wished it to seem as if she had jilted the Duke, and she 
 had resolved to be married before he was. The wedding-day 
 was fixed, moreover, and nothing would have induced her to 
 postpone it. Still she realised that she had been imprudent 
 in allowing the Baroness to read her mind so fully ; and she 
 considered it necessary to try and reassure her. She suc- 
 ceeded in making the stiffened muscles of her face relax and 
 managed to smile. In a bantering voice she expressed her 
 pity for poor M. Derblay, who was condemned to the sad fate 
 of marrying such a girl as herself, and who would hardly find 
 sufficient advantages in the match to compensate for his wife's 
 capricious and somewhat tyrannical disposition. 
 
 The Baroness was caught in the trap which her cousin set 
 for her. She relied on the future to dispel Claire's melan- 
 choly dejection and calm her menacing irritation. She said 
 to herself, in her own mind, that marriage has many surprises 
 in reserve for a young girl, and that life in common generally 
 softens the most violent characters. Alone with her husband 
 — en tete-d-tete — the most recalcitrant wife is obliged to be 
 reasonable. A man who is not a fool and who is very much 
 in love may greatly modify a woman's ideas. And then, if a 
 child is born, the situation is completely changed ; the fury 
 becomes as gentle as a lamb. With these reflections the 
 Baroness quieted herself; besides, she was not the woman to 
 
172 THE ironmaster; 
 
 follow tlie same idea for any length of time ; and so, having 
 devoted a whole day to gravity and penetration, she became 
 frivolous for the rest of the week. 
 
 However, Philippe had returned from his journey, and had 
 brought the betrothal ring with him — an admirable ruby of a 
 dark tinge set round with brilliants. It was with a trembling 
 voice that the poor fellow asked Mademoiselle de Beaulieu's 
 permission to slip it on her finger. Claire only had a dis- 
 dainful glance for this superb jewel. With mingled pride 
 and indifference she held out her hand to M. Derblay, and 
 did not give him a word of thanks. This ring was the symbol 
 of her engagement, and as such it became odious to her. 
 Indeed, on the morrow Philippe perceived, with a pang at 
 the heart, that she no longer wore it. He did not dare 
 to complain, for he was so timid in her presence. But his 
 eyes gazed at Mademoiselle de Beaulieu's hand with such 
 mute eloquence that she could not help saying to him, " You 
 must excuse me. I never wear rings." 
 
 The ironmaster felt reassured on hearing this. Noting 
 that the jewel had been laid aside, he had feared Mademoiselle 
 de Beaulieu was moved by a feeling of repugnance for any- 
 thing that might come from him. He was not unacquainted 
 with the state of her heart. He had witnessed the crisis 
 which Bachelin had predicted, and he was aware that he had 
 only been accepted out of rancour and mortification. But he 
 felt himself so imbued with passion and tenderness that he 
 made sure of ultimately winning this wandering heart. How 
 could a woman remain insensible to the attentive, delicate, 
 devoted affection of every moment ? Deceived in her hopes, 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu had momentarily become callous, 
 and distrustful of all men. But at twenty years of age the 
 heart can hardly close for ever. Was it possible that in full 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 173 
 
 youtli she could decide on always remaining frigid and insen- 
 sible, close Ler ears to all tlie appeals of life, shut lier eyes to 
 all the smiles of hope ? Was it credible ? PhiKjipe, who was 
 passionately in love with Claire, never doubted but that she 
 would eventually reciprocate his affection. She* thought 
 that her heart was dead, but it only slept. By degrees it 
 would recover consciousness and beat again. Beat again, 
 and for whom, if not for the man who had roused it from 
 lethargy ? Would not Philippe have undoubted rights over 
 this soul when he had saved it? And when Claire was 
 restored to life, with her eyes opened, able to distinguish 
 between the affection she had lost and the affection she had 
 won — would she not reward Philippe for her deliverance by 
 a whole lifetime of happiness ? 
 
 These were the thoughts that occupied his mind during his 
 long hours of silent contemplation. Forced at the dawn of 
 manhood to devote himself to the all-absorbing toil attaching 
 to weighty business matters, he had not had time to mingle 
 in society. He had thus remained very timid, and was 
 invariably agitated in the presence of women. As for Made- 
 moiselle de Beaulieu, she made him tremble. His heart 
 palpitated whenever he approached her, and Claire, so cold 
 and grave, had only to turn her tranquil eyes upon him to 
 put him out of countenance. 
 
 As Philippe climbed the slope, on his way from Pont- 
 Avesnes to Beaulieu, he would often acquaint his sister with 
 his plans for the future, mention the changes he intended 
 to effect in the arrangements of the chateau, and finally begin 
 to talk of how dearly he loved his betrothed. Suzanne 
 listened to him with beaming eyes and a smile on her lips. 
 She realised that he was rehearsing his part, training himself 
 before appearing in Claire's presence, and whenever in search 
 
174 THE ironmaster; 
 
 of approbation lie exclaimed, "Don't yon think so?" slie 
 maliciously answered, ''But you ouglit to tell all that to 
 her, Philippe, not to me. You see, I consider everything you 
 say so right and proper, and everything you do so fitting, 
 that I am always of your opinion. But Mademoiselle de 
 Beaulieu- " 
 
 "Yes, I will speak to her this afternoon," cried the iron- 
 master resolutely. "Oh! I have so many things to tell 
 her." 
 
 But all his courage vanished as soon as he reached the 
 chateau and found himself in Claire's presence. He could 
 not say " Good afternoon" without stammering. And then 
 incensed with himself, he went and sat down in a secluded 
 corner, regretting that no miracle enabled him to open his 
 heart like a jewel-case, and show all the mysterious treasures 
 it contained to the girl he loved. 
 
 As the cold weather came with the first days of November, 
 and it was no longer possible to lounge on the terrace, the 
 inmates of the chateau and their guests assembled in the 
 grand drawing-room. In this closer circle Philippe found 
 various occasions to speak advantageously — not of his love, 
 for he was dumb on what was uppermost in his mind — but on 
 general topics ; and being skilfully seconded by Octave and 
 the Baron, he was able to display the rectitude of his judg- 
 ment and the sterling solidity of his knowledge. Listening 
 more or less attentively, the Marchioness sat beside the fire- 
 place, where a bright wood-fire blazed and hissed, whilst 
 Claire, installed close by, busied herseK with her embroidery, 
 from which she never raised her eyes. Gusts of gay laughter 
 were wafted through the open doorway of the billiard- room, 
 where Suzanne and the Marquis were warmly contesting a 
 game of in-door croquet. They were the only ones who lent 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 175 
 
 a little animation to tlie scene. They had. become friends at 
 once, and amused themselves together Kke two children. 
 
 Purious at the failure of her artful combinations, Athenais 
 returned to Paris with her father and the Duke. Previous to 
 this, Moulinet had made a farewell call at Beaulieu, where 
 the Marchioness had most graciously received him. At Claire's 
 urgent request, indeed, Madame de Beaulieu assumed a 
 smiling face, and welcomed the chocolate-manufacturer with 
 all the cordiality due to the future father-in-law of a dearly 
 loved nephew. Thus the mother herself consented to play a 
 part in the comedy which the daughter had initiated, and the 
 Moulinets and the Due de Bligny were obliged to give credit 
 xo Mademoiselle de Beaulieu's haughty declaration, and dis- 
 miss all idea of having wounded her. The Duke was 
 astonished to find himseK so innocent, after fancying himself 
 so culpable. Athenais admired her rival's strength of mind, 
 aad realising that she was vanquished after thinking herself 
 victorious, vowed that she would have a terrible revenge. 
 Slie had at first resolved that her own wedding should take 
 plice with great pomp at La Yarenne, in the superb chapel 
 at-.ached to the chateau, but she ultimately decided in favour 
 of Paris. She realised that the grandees of the Parisian 
 middle classes, whom her father had invited to the ceremony, 
 would scarcely journey into the provinces to swell her cortege, 
 aid she feared that the great families of the district, invited 
 b;y the Duke, might also fail to put in an appearance. 
 Nf-turally enough, she preferred not to expose herself to this 
 rebuff. However, she promised to return for the wedding of 
 her future cousin, ''her dear Claire," as she was wont to say, 
 and then started for Paris. 
 
 Claire felt greatly relieved by her departure. It seemed as 
 if sLe breathed a purer atmosphere now that her rival was 
 
176 THE ironmaster; 
 
 gone. Her beautiful face brigMened up, and sbe became 
 almost gay. Philippe bad secretly set workmen to restore 
 the apartments of tbe chateau of Pont-Avesnes, wbicb time 
 had somewhat injured, and he now profited by Claire's pass- 
 ing good-humour to ask Madame de Beaulieu to visit her 
 daughter's future abode. The invitation was accepted, and 
 on the morrow all the inmates of Beaulieu installed them- 
 selves in a roomy break, and set out for Pont-Avesnes. 
 
 The first impression was favourable. Claire was pleased 
 with the broad courtyard planted with old limes, the sheet of 
 water, and the deep moats full of fruit-trees. The park, with 
 its long shady pathways, seemed to promise her a fitting spot 
 for silent meditation. The solemn sadness of the vast rooms 
 was in harmony with her own melancholy. In fact, although 
 the chateau, girt round with tall trees, and literally without a 
 view, would have seemed a tomb to any one else, it proved 
 greatly to Mademoiselle de Beaulieu's liking. The Baroness 
 inspected the reception rooms, indulging in cries of mingled 
 delight and surprise as she admired the artistic treasures 
 which Philippe's father had gathered together. The short- 
 stitch tapestry of the Louis-Quatorze furniture sent her int> 
 a transport, and she remained in ecstasy before the Beauvais 
 hangings depicting the battles of Alexander. Nowadays 
 old china, old fabrics, and old furniture are so eagerly sougkt 
 after that every one has become more or less of an expert 
 The Baroness constantly frequented art-sales, and it was at 
 once entertaining and instructive to hear her value the carvel 
 credences set out with gaud^^ons of the reign of Henri III. ard 
 old Dresden lonhonnieres. She rapped on the faience dishes 
 to make sure they were intact, in the most amusing style, 
 and hastening from room to room she rattled on as vivaciously 
 as a young parrot, fairly deafening her aunt, who did not 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 177 
 
 understand a word of all this hrie-a-lrac parlance. Brigitte 
 alone appreciated tlie Baroness's enthusiasm for the furniture 
 which she had so long taken care of, accepting Madame de 
 Prefont's praise as a tribute to her own cleanliness. 
 
 Suzanne and Octave had not even entered the chateau. 
 Conversing together they had at first followed the pathways 
 of the parterre a la Frangaise, and then Suzanne darted off in 
 the direction of the kitchen, whence she speedily returned 
 with a huge hunch of bread, which was at once broken into 
 bits and thrown to the carp in the sheet of water. For half 
 an hour or so Suzanne and Octave amused themselves with 
 watching the attempts of the gluttonous fish to swallow a big 
 crust which floated on the surface. As for the Baron, he was 
 influenced by the vicinity of the ironworks, and turning down 
 a little path already well known to him, he at once started oif 
 for the laboratory. 
 
 Claire had remained behindhand whilst the Baroness took 
 an inventory of the furniture of Pont-Avesnes, and whilst 
 Philippe did the honours of the house to Madame de Beaulieu. 
 Perceiving a glass door communicating with a flight of steps 
 which led into the park, she opened it and went out. In the 
 distance the hammers of the workshops resounded gaily on 
 the anvils, the furnaces snorted and expelled thick smoke 
 towards the sky ; whilst in the park all was still, solemn, and 
 mysterious. The contrast of the noise and the silence had a 
 pecuKar charm for Claire. The trees with their foliage already 
 reddened by the winds of autumn formed a vault above her 
 head, and, following the mossy pathways, she soon became 
 absorbed in reverie. This dark deserted park seemed a fitting 
 scene for her future life. The dead branches which crackled 
 under her tread had fallen from the trees as her hopes from 
 her heart. She must cast her dreams on one side, in the same 
 
178 THE ironmaster; 
 
 way as slie dispersed the withered leaves. Everything within 
 her was inert and cold, just like this silent desolate wood. 
 She went on, noticing the sad aspect of nature with bitter joy, 
 but suddenly, as the path curved, she perceived through a 
 large clearing, a far-stretching expanse of fertile plain, bril- 
 liant with sunlight. It came upon her as a picture suddenly 
 discovered, and Claire experienced an acute impression. Her 
 mind was all the more struck by this smiling scene, as she 
 had just identified herself with the decay and gloominess 
 around her. Thus joy followed sadness so promptly. After 
 this black and gloomy park, these fertile plains so full of life ; 
 would it be the same with herself ? Could the feelings she 
 now experienced change ? She turned with anger from the 
 smiling scene, and retreating into solitude, sadness, and shade, 
 disdained the promises of the future. 
 
 When the Baroness, Philippe, and Madame de Beaulieu, 
 astonished by her absence and somewhat anxious thereat, 
 went in search of her, they met her returning slowly along 
 the silent pathway. She was calm and smiling. Her eyes, 
 still moist with the tears she had shed in secret, alone gave 
 evidence of the painful battle which had been waging in her 
 heart. The Baron was at once recalled from his attractive 
 scientific pursuits, Suzanne and Octave disembarked from the 
 punt in which they had been navigating round tlie sheet of 
 water, and the whole party took their seats in the break again, 
 carrying off Philippe and his sister to dine at Beaulieu. 
 
 Only a week now separated Claire and Philippe from the 
 day so anxiously awaited by the former's pride and the latter' s 
 love. As it grew nearer Mademoiselle de Beaulieu became 
 more and more nervous and agitated. So great indeed was 
 her impatience, that all those who saw her during this last 
 week thought that the prospect of this marriage made her 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 179 
 
 supremely tappy. Slie seemed to fear tliat some obstacle 
 would arise at the last moment. Packages were constantly 
 arriving from tlie railway station, and fresh letters came with 
 each delivery. The bell at the gate of the chateau seemed 
 afflicted with St. Vitus' s dance, and the servants almost went 
 crazy, accustomed as they were to the light and casual duties 
 of provincial life. 
 
 When the question of sending out the invitations was 
 broached, Claire arrived at two decisions which stupefied 
 everybody. Eirst of all she declared that she wished the 
 wedding to take place at midnight, without the least pomp, 
 in the little church of Pont-Avesnes and, secondly, she ex- 
 pressed the desire that only the members of the two families 
 should be present. On ^hearing this the Marchioness raised 
 her arms to heaven, whilst the Baroness sank into an arm- 
 chair and remained for ten minutes without speaking. Octave 
 straightway asked his sister if she were going mad. Philippe 
 alone remained impassive, without expressing an opinion, 
 either by word or gesture. Claire gave no reasons, but she 
 clung tenaciously to her determination despite all the efforts 
 of her relatives. To be married at midnight ! This was of 
 itself passing strange, although the custom was still observed 
 in some circles of the Faubourg St. Germain. And a black 
 mass, too, as if Claire considered herself the Duke's widow ! 
 But even supposing the wedding took place at midnight, which 
 might be conceded, it was preposterous that no one should be 
 invited. It would look as if they all wished to hide them- 
 selves ; as if Claire was ashamed of her husband. And besides 
 it might bring misfortune. This last surmise emanated from 
 the Baroness, but it had no more weight with Claire than any 
 of the other objections. At last, however, Philippe was 
 pressed to give his opinion, and he decided the matter by 
 
180 THE ironmaster; OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 
 
 declaring tliat Mademoiselle de Beaulieu's wishes seemed all 
 very proper to him, and that, for his own part, he saw no 
 reason whatever why they should not be carried out. 
 
 As the person who was most interested in the matter raised 
 no objection, all further opposition was abandoned. The 
 Baroness, who was extremely vexed, for she had ordered a 
 magnificent dress to be sent to her from Paris for the occa- 
 sion, laughingly declared that the wedding would be like one 
 of those melodramatic ceremonies on the stage, when the hero, 
 under sentence of death, obtains the king's permission to 
 marry the woman he loves in his prison before mounting the 
 scaffold. 
 
 The marriage contract was signed on the eve of the great 
 day. As Bachelin was obliged to choose between his two 
 clients (for he was at the same time the notary of the Derblays 
 and the Beaulieus), he secured the services of a Besan^on 
 colleague for Philippe, and personally represented the noble 
 family for which his progenitors had officiated during cen- 
 turies. The old lawyer skimmed the perusal of the contract 
 with remarkable skill, and indeed even if Claire had atten- 
 tively listened to Bachelin' s mumble, she would hardly have 
 realised her true situation. As it happened, she remained 
 quite ignorant of the fact that she was ruined, and when 
 Bachelin, who was certainly more agitated than herself, 
 offered her the pen, she signed quite unsuspectingly the act 
 which endowed her with half of M. Derblay's fortune. 
 
 As soon as the contract was duly signed Philippe felt less 
 oppressed, but he subsequently acknowledged that he was 
 not really at ease until he heard Claire answer "Yes" in a 
 firm voice in response to the Mayor's inquiry, '' Do you con- 
 sent to take Monsieur Philippe Derblay for your husband ? " 
 
X. 
 
 It was nearly one o'clock in the morning wlien Suzanne, 
 dressed in white, swept into the bridal apartments, having 
 left the vestry before the register was signed. Kneeling in 
 front of the tall carved sandstone chimney-piece in the little 
 drawing-room, faithful Brigitte, with a pair of bellows in her 
 hands, was vigorously endeavouring to facilitate the blaze of 
 a large fire, the flames of which cast a glow over the iron 
 plate studded with fleurs-de-lys at the back of the hearth. 
 As she heard the door close behind her, she turned round, 
 and still working with her bellows, gave Mademoiselle 
 Derblay a hearty, smile. 
 
 ''What, have you already come from church, Mam'selle 
 Suzanne ? " she asked. '' Is the wedding over, then ? " 
 
 ''Over, quite over, my good girl; and I left everybody 
 with our kind cure, to come and give a last look round here. 
 The house has a new mistress, Brigitte, and everything must 
 be arranged to please her." 
 
 " Why," cried Brigitte, " how can she helj) being pleased 
 here, with our Philippe beside her ? And then, if the bird's 
 a pretty one, the cage is a fine one too." 
 
 As she spoke the servant glanced admiringly at the severe 
 and magnificent furniture, of Henri III. style, with which 
 the lofty room was garnished ; her eyes turning from the 
 large carved arm-chairs and squat credences with rounded feet 
 
182 
 
 to the hangings of old Cordova leather, with tawny gilding 
 that shone discreetly in the shade. A x^artially opened door- 
 way allowed a glimpse of the adjoining bedroom, vaguely 
 illumined by a lamp the flame of which shone back in the 
 three glass doors of a superb Louis-Seize wardrobe. 
 
 ''And in there, is everything in order?" asked Suzanne, 
 pointing to the bedroom. 
 
 ''Oh! everything, I'll answer for it. I did all the work 
 myself. The wedding seems to have turned the heads of aU 
 the maids, and there's nothing to be done with the lazy 
 bodies." Then approaching Suzanne, and looking at her 
 maliciously, Brigitte added, " And when one thinks, mam'- 
 selle, that it'll be your turn to set the house topsy-turvy in a 
 year or two ! " 
 
 Suzanne blushed, and turning aside with some little em- 
 barrassment, replied, " There's no question of that, fortu- 
 nately." 
 
 "Fortunately!" ejaculated the servant. "Ah, so much 
 the better. But who was that nice-looking young gentleman 
 who offered you his arm as you left and seemed so attentive 
 towards you ? '^ 
 
 " That was Monsieur Octave de Beaulieu," replied Suzanne, 
 as she turned round the room, pretending to pass every- 
 thing in review for the last time, "Mademoiselle Claire's 
 brother " 
 
 "Eh! eh!" said Brigitte, with a hearty laugh. " WeU, 
 for a best man he seemed to like the smell of your orange- 
 blossom." 
 
 "Come, my good girl, you don't know what you are 
 saying," rejoined Suzanne, flushing scarlet to the roots of her 
 hair. 
 
 The noise of several vehicles rolling over the gravel in the 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 183 
 
 courtyard appropriately brought Brigitte's chatter to an 
 end. Suzanne hastened to the window. Flashing through 
 the darkness a number of bright carriage-lamps lighted up 
 the verdure of the trees. 
 
 ''Here are our people," cried Mademoiselle Derblay; and 
 opening the door she passed into the larger drawing-room 
 just as the Baroness, clad and muffled up as if she were bound 
 for an arctic expedition, swept in, followed by Octave and the 
 Baron. 
 
 ''Don't disturb yourself," she cried. "Ah! there's a fire 
 here, thank heavens ! I'm a perfect icicle." And so saying 
 she drew an arm-chair up to the fire, installed herself in it, 
 pulled up her skirts, and placed her tiny feet, encased in 
 black satin shoes, on the fender. Then heaving a sigh of 
 satisfaction, she threw her fur mantle off her shoulders and 
 exclaimed, "Ah! I feel better already." 
 
 Fresh carriages now rapidly drew up in front of the steps, 
 bringing Mademoiselle de Beaulieu's relatives, M. Derblay's 
 witnesses, and a few intimate friends whom it had been 
 absolutely necessary to invite. M. Moulinet, Athenais, and 
 the Duke had been present at the wedding ; and the chocolate- 
 maker's famous gala barouche had been utilised, with the 
 footmen in full livery. Unfortunately the night was a very 
 dark one, and this splendid equipage had by no means pro- 
 duced its full effect. Moulinet would have given a hundred 
 francs for a gleam of moonlight. But the orb of night 
 disdained bribery and did not show itself. The ex-judge of 
 the Tribunal of Commerce was altogether disappointed. He 
 had arrived from Paris expecting to witness a great aristo- 
 cratic wedding, but the ceremony had to his mind proved 
 scarcely worthy of the middle classes. He had hoped to 
 find a large number of noble families present, and now, in 
 
181 THE ironmaster; 
 
 the drawing-room, whom did lie perceive ? Why, simply 
 the notary who had sold him the estate of La Yarenne, with 
 the relatives and witnesses of the bridal pair. It was really 
 ridiculous ! 
 
 At one moment, it is true, he had experienced real emotion, 
 and considered the ceremony a grand one. This was on the 
 road from Beaulieu to the church, when the carriages defiled 
 past the crowd of M. Derblay's workpeople, who stood in 
 silence on the place. They had not been invited to the 
 wedding mass, and yet they were unwilling that their dear 
 master should go to the church without lifting their hats 
 and caps to his bride. Accordingly, they arrayed them- 
 selves in their Sunday clothes, and assembled in front of the 
 porch, waiting for the cortege. In the dark still night this 
 solemn mass of a couple of thousand of human beings, men, 
 women, and children, seemed enormous, and when every 
 head was bared as the carriages passed by, Moulinet became 
 strangely oppressed. He wished to smile and bow after the 
 fashion of the functionaries he had seen on fete days, but sud- 
 denly moved and bewildered, he felt a tightening in the throat, 
 and began to laugh without knowing why. 
 
 Eecalled to consciousness of the situation by Athenais, who 
 gave him an irritated glance, he promptly collected his scat- 
 tered faculties, and alighted with great dignity, raising his 
 head with an air of superb conceit, and smoothing his pearl- 
 grey trousers. He found the church extremely small and 
 dirty, and installing himself with a grimace on one of the 
 wooden benches of the nave, he cast a commanding look 
 around. There were not twenty tapers alight on the altar, 
 and the worthy priest wore the same sacerdotal vestments that 
 he had donned to marry a carpenter's daughter the week 
 before. As an old subscriber to the Siecle^ Moulinet had a 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 185 
 
 dose of Voltairean scepticism in Ms nature, "^^ and lie felt in a 
 liumour for raillery. Leaning towards tlie Duke, he endea- 
 voured to engage him in conversation ; but Gaston raised his 
 eyes and looked at him so strangely that he did not venture 
 to insist. He turned his attention to the service, which 
 was progressing with the same simplicity as would have 
 been observed at a pauper's wedding. The organ, played by 
 a proficient musician, alone accompanied the priest ; there was 
 no choir, no display of operatic vocalism, and under the cold, 
 bare, vaulted roof the grave notes of the instrument re- 
 sounded with melancholy effect. 
 
 The Duke, whose brow was contracted and whose face was 
 pale, seemed to be absorbed in thought. Indeed the dreary 
 music troubled him. Influenced by sudden recollection, he 
 fancied himself once more in the gloomy church of Saint 
 Germain-des-Pres at his father's funeral. The plaintive 
 sounds of the organ seemed the same ; the darkness, mitigated 
 only by the burning tapers, was identical. There was the 
 same smell of burning wax and vapoury incense, which affects 
 the breathing and stifles one. But on the day long past he 
 had had his aunt beside him — weeping as she looked at him — 
 and Claire and Octave, clad in mourning like himself, had 
 lovingly pressed his hands. Now, however, he was alone. 
 He was separated and for ever from the dear ones who had 
 surrounded him, comforted him, and been so kind. He had 
 voluntarily severed the ties which bound him to them. The 
 Claire whom he had adored was another man's wife, and he 
 himself was about to become the husband of a girl to whoso 
 hateful schemes, as he fully realised, he had lent himself, 
 unwittingly perhaps, but only too well. At this thought a 
 
 * The Siecle was formerly the most Eadical and atheistical journal in 
 Paris, but in these respects it has long since been surpassed. — Trans. 
 
 N 
 
186 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 profound feeling of sadness came over him, and lie bitterly 
 deplored his weakness. How had he rewarded those who had 
 adopted him and cherished him when he found himself an 
 orphan? Had he not requited good with evil? Yes, that 
 was how he had paid his debt. But was he not punished 
 himself ? Eor in abandoning Claire, had he not forfeited his 
 own happiness ? 
 
 He was thus led to compare Philippe's conduct to his own, 
 and he could not help admitting that the ironmaster had 
 proved as devoted and as generous as he himself had proved 
 ungrateful and selfish. Philippe had married the woman he 
 loved, dowerless as she was. He worked. The Duke bitterly 
 regretted his own uselessness. Was he not a negative cipher 
 in the world ? Like a nought, he needed to be coupled with 
 another figure to acquire any value. To turn himself to any 
 account it was necessary that a rich merchant should take a 
 fancy to his name. "What could he do if left to himself ? 
 Nothing. He was a superfluity, and people purchased him 
 just as they bought a high-stepping trotter. 
 
 He had never indulged in such thoughts before, and now 
 that they presented themselves to him, they inspired him with 
 j)erfect horror for Moulinet. He pictured himself as the 
 chocolate-maker's slave, and furious at the idea, he deter- 
 mined to revolt and reduce his master to subjection. At 
 the same time he saw Athenais as she really was, a young 
 woman of the middle classes with no breadth of ideas nor any 
 nobility of character, endowed merely with low-born envy 
 and wickedness. He glanced at her as she knelt at her j^rie- 
 dieUy yawning as if she were bored, and looking awkward and 
 ill at ease in her superb dress, which was far too ornately 
 trimmed for the toilette of an unmarried woman. Then his 
 eyes turned to Claire, who bent forward under her white 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 187 
 
 veil, and seemed absorbed in prayer. But by tbe movement 
 of ber sboulders tbe Duke divined tbat sbe was weeping. 
 
 Pbilippe stood erect and motionless beside ber, witb a 
 grave expression on bis face. Was tbat really tbe man sbe 
 loved, tbe man sbe bad preferred to tbe Duke ? As Bligny 
 tbus reflected, a sudden ligbt broke upon bim, and be under- 
 stood tbe meaning of Claire's conduct. For a fortnigbt tbe 
 situation bad seemed to bim impenetrably dark, but it now 
 became luminous. He realised wbat was tbe ironmaster's 
 true position, and as be bebeld Claire, so beautiful in ber 
 grief, tbere darted tbrougb bis mind a tbougbt wbicb 
 brougbt a fugitive smile to bis lips. Tbe sincere, regretful, 
 tender-bearted Bligny of tbe last few weeks vanisbed for 
 ever, and in lieu tbereof tbere only remained tbe cold and 
 sceptical llase developed by Muscovite corruption. He decided 
 tbat be would revenge bimself very sweetly indeed on tbis 
 M. Derblay, wbo was tbe cbief accomplice in tbe bumiliation 
 to wbicb be bad been subjected. Was it possible tbat tbis 
 iron-beater could become tbe undisputed lord and master of 
 sucb an adorable woman as Claire ? No ; be, tbe Duke, would 
 prove tbe contrary ere long. '' Sbe weeps," be said to bim- 
 self. '' Sbe bates tbat man and still loves me." 
 
 After tbe service, tbe wedding party assembled in tbe 
 bumble little vestry, and tbe bride, raising ber veil, met tbe 
 ^aze of ber friends and relatives. Bligny now sougbt in vain 
 for a trace of tbe tears wbicb be bad seen ber sbed in silence. 
 Tbe flame of pride, indeed, bad obliterated all sign of 
 sorrow from ber face ; sbe was calm and smiling and 
 spoke witb complete self-possession. Tbe Duke was dis- 
 pleased ; for be would bave preferred to bave found ber over- 
 come. And noting tbe cbange, be concluded tbat tbe proud 
 young woman was bent on defending berseK against bim, and 
 
188 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 that a struggle would ensue. But no matter, he decided to 
 fight the hattle, and confidently looked forward to victory. 
 
 On resuming his seat in the gala carriage with his future 
 father-in-law and Athenais, he had to listen to all the remarks 
 which Moulinet had held in reserve during the ceremony. It 
 was really gay, this midnight service in a sepulchral church 
 with the cold air falling on one's shoulders like an icy mantle. 
 The ex- judge of the Tribunal of Commerce had no taste for 
 weddings of that kind. Three weeks later he meant to escort 
 his daughter to the altar, and folks would then see what he 
 understood by a wedding. The mass would be celebrated at 
 the Madeleine ; and he had ordered the most expensive cere- 
 mony that could be devised — ''the whole nave illuminated, a 
 lavish display of flowers and evergreens, chorus-singing and 
 
 '' >So/^," interrupted the Duke, whom this pictured magni- 
 ficence was beginning to annoy. 
 
 " Solos, soli,''^ resumed Moulinet, who attached little or no- 
 importance to the question which was the correct plural of the 
 two. At all events there would be plenty of vocal music,, 
 chanted by the artistes of the Opera with M. Faure at their 
 head. In fact, everything would be of the very best. The 
 ceremony would cost fifteen thousand francs ; but what did 
 Moulinet care for that ? He did not marry his daughter every- 
 day, and he was* determined that her wedding should be long 
 remembered and long spoken of. 
 
 ''However little folks may speak of it, monsieur, they will 
 always speak of it too much," interrupted the Duke, in a tone 
 which was as cutting as the blade of a knife. 
 
 " But, my son-in-law," began Moulinet, who felt greatly 
 vexed. 
 
 " Excuse me, monsieur," interrupted the Duke again,. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 189 
 
 ^'but to begin with, I am not your son-in-law yet, and in 
 addition, you would oblige me by not using such, a thoroughly 
 vulgar expression, which is only worthy of shopkeepers.^'' 
 Besides, here we are at Monsieur Derblay's, and I would 
 urgently beg of you to speak as little as you can in the interest 
 of all of us." 
 
 Thereupon slowly leaving the carriage, which had just 
 stopped, the young man gallantly offered his hand to Made- 
 moiselle Moulinet, so as to help her to alight, whilst the ex- 
 commercial judge, who was altogether abashed, nervously 
 asked himself if the Duke took him for an animal. 
 
 In the grand drawing-room of the Chateau de Pont- 
 
 Avesnes, the Marquise de Beaulieu sat listening to Bache- 
 
 lin, who was talking to her in an undertone. That same 
 
 morning she had requested the old notary to obtain M. 
 
 Derblay's authorisation to acquaint Claire with her real 
 
 pecuniary situation. The marriage being accomplished, the 
 
 Marchioness had considered it was only right that the young 
 
 wife should be informed of her ruin and her husband's 
 
 loving disinterestedness. The ironmaster would thus receive 
 
 a fitting reward for his delicacy of conduct. But Philippe, in 
 
 his anxiety to spare his wife all worry and bitterness of 
 
 feeling, had refused his consent. He did not wish that Claire 
 
 should feel herself in any degree lessened on entering his 
 
 house. Why cast a cloud over her delicate, sensitive mind? 
 
 To satisfy his own self-esteem ? To wring some confused and 
 
 perhaps humiliating words of thanks from Claire ? He 
 
 considered it would be unworthy of him to employ such 
 
 * The French term gendre, for which the only English equivalent is 
 son-in-law, is never used in good French society. Perhaps its etymology 
 may account for this. At all events it has certainly been tabooed since 
 the days when M. Poirier used it so frequently in M. Augier's master- 
 piece. — Trans, 
 
190 THE ironmaster; 
 
 means in view of gaining her affection. He was desirous of 
 more than her gratitude. He wished to win her love. 
 
 ' ' Well, my dear Bachelin, I will say nothing, as Monsieur 
 Derblay desires it," remarked the Marchioness. " But I don't 
 think I should show the same delicacy if I were in his place. 
 At all events, I confess that he astonishes me. He has a sur- 
 prising breadth of view and a wonderfully elevated mind. He 
 is really an extraordinary man." 
 
 * ' So I had the honour of telling you, Madame la Marquise^ 
 when I first spoke to you of him," replied Bachelin. '' He is- 
 a true nobleman." 
 
 " Yes, yes, we have been fortunate," rejoined the Mar- 
 chioness. ''And we are indebted to you for this happy 
 result. Let us hope that my daughter will know how to 
 appreciate her husband. She looks very pale, Bachelin." 
 
 The old notary turned round. Claire's face had the hue of 
 death, and with her wreath of orange-blossom she looked as 
 Juliet must have looked on rising from the marble slab in 
 response to the loved voice of Eomeo. The Duke had just 
 approached her, and with a melancholy smile, "We are about 
 to leave, Claire," he said, "but before retiring I wished to 
 speak to you. My heart is very sad and troubled. A word 
 from you would tranquillise me. Be good, and tell me that 
 you forgive me." 
 
 Claire proudly raised her head, and giving the Duke a 
 triumphant look she replied in a firm voice, " I have forgotten 
 everything. I love my husband. Good-bye." 
 
 Bligny started, and answering bravado with bravado, "I 
 trust you speak sincerely," he rejoined; and then, in an 
 almost threatening tone, he added, ^'Au revoir, Claire, till 
 we meet again." With a final bow he thereupon turned 
 away. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 191 
 
 ''Ah, Duke, so you are going ? " exclaimed tlie Baron, inter- 
 cepting the young man as he crossed the room. 
 
 " Yes," answered the Duke coldly. ''I've nothing more to 
 do here. It's the husband's turn." 
 
 " Eh ! eh ! " said the Baron. " You speak rather bitterly. 
 Come, confess it, now that Claire is married you are not 
 without regret ? " 
 
 With a sarcastic glance the Duke directed attention to 
 Claire, who now seemed scarcely able to support herself. 
 " Eegret ? " said he. " Is the regret on my side ? " 
 
 " That's rather a pretentious answer, and a pretty ridiculous 
 one too," rejoined Monsieur de Prefont. " But, as you con- 
 sider yourself such a conqueror, pray do me a favour. Look 
 at Monsieur Derblay, and tell me if he looks like a husband 
 who would let his wife be taken from him ? " 
 
 The Duke glanced at Philippe, who stood erect, at his full 
 height, in a corner of the room. His face, bronzed by exposure 
 to the sun, seemed symbolical of energy. Such a man's anger 
 would assuredly prove terrible. But the Duke did not appear 
 impressed; far from it. "Pooh I" said he, "blacksmiths 
 have always been an unlucky set since Yulcan's time, you 
 know." 
 
 "Indeed!" replied the Baron gravely. "Well, take my 
 advice, and beware of the blacksmith's hammer." 
 
 The Duke shrugged his shoulders carelessly, and walked 
 towards Monsieur Moulinet, who was standing alone near 
 one of the doors. "We will go whenever you like," said 
 Bligny. 
 
 "Oh! I won't detain you," muttered the ex-judge of the 
 Tribunal of Commerce. "What a reception, my dear Duke ! 
 They haven't even offered us as much as a glass of water ! 
 That's what we folks of the middle classes caU a dry wedding. 
 
192 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 But you shall see how I'll manage matters. I mean to give a 
 couple of dinners and a ball which, will create quite a sensa- 
 tion. And when our guests leave my house they won't feel 
 famished, I can promise you." 
 
 Moulinet might have continued enumerating all the splendid 
 things he meant to do without fear of interruption, for the 
 Duke did not listen to him. He was watching Athenais, who 
 was just bidding the iDride good-bye. She had taken hold of 
 Claire's hands on approaching her, and was indulging in a 
 noisy display of spurious affection. 
 
 ''"We shall be near one another all the summer," she said. 
 '' La Yarenne is only a league off. But how I shall miss you 
 during the winter ! Paris will seem quite empty without you. 
 Will Monsieur Derblay really be so cruel as to shut you up at 
 Pont-Avesnes for good ? Of course I know that you will lack 
 nothing here, for you are loved, and you love in return. But 
 promise me that you will think of me in your joys, and your 
 sadness, if you have any. You know very well that I ought to 
 share it." 
 
 Claire remained impassive on hearing these perfidiously 
 cruel words. "You may be sure," she answered, "that I 
 appreciate your friendship at its true value. But happiness, 
 you know, needs no confidants. I shall be happy without 
 talking of it." 
 
 Athenais despaired of conquering her intrepid enemy, and 
 with rage at her heart she determined at least not to spare 
 her any vexation. "Kiss me, dear," said she. 
 
 "Willingly," answered Claire without the least hesitation, 
 and her soft burning lips touched Athenais' s forehead. But 
 her strength was now failing her, and hastily taking the arm 
 of the Baroness, who stood close by, she drew her out of the 
 drawing-room, saying, "Let us go. I am stifling." 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 193 
 
 The Marchioness, who felt somewhat nervous, rose and fol- 
 lowed her daughter. Claire's face had at once changed. Her 
 eyes had sunk into their sockets, her mouth was contracted, 
 and she seemed about to faint. Once again, however, did the 
 firmness of her spirit overcome the weakness of her flesh, and 
 looking lovingly at her mother, who was leaning over her, she 
 said, ''It is nothing, a little fatigue and emotion, but^I feel 
 better already." 
 
 As she spoke a hectic flush suffused her face, and her eyes 
 sparkled with fever. She had hitherto carefully concealed 
 her sufferings from her mother, but Madame de Beaulieu now 
 had a vague suspicion that she had been deceived. Would this 
 marriage, with which, personally, she was so well satisfied, 
 really make her daughter as happy as she deserved to be ? 
 Had Mademoiselle de Beaulieu contracted this engagement 
 with a calm spirit and confident heart? For the first time 
 during the last fortnight the Marchioness reflected seriously, 
 and asked herself a number of questions to which she found 
 no answers. Accustomed to yield, having formerly borne her 
 husband's infidelity, and then given way to her daughter's 
 gentle despotism, submitting in fact to everything, she never 
 troubled herself about her responsibility. She was one of 
 those women without a will, who put up with any situation, 
 and fail to understand how any one can be bold enough to try 
 and change fate. Thus she had allowed Claire to act as she 
 pleased in reference to the marriage. And yet at this solemn 
 moment she could not help asking herself if she had really 
 behaved prudently ; and in her trouble she looked searchingly 
 into her daughter's eyes, anxious, as it were, for a glance of 
 approbation. Then, taking Claire in her arms, ''You are 
 happy, my child, are you not?" she asked. "You see my 
 maternal duties are over. You will now be mistress of your 
 
194 THE ironmaster; 
 
 life. Tell me that I liave done all that depended on me to 
 ensure your happiness ! " 
 
 Claire read her mother's anguish of mind in her eyes, and 
 making a last effort to deceive her, she kissed her tenderly 
 and exclaimed, ''Yes, mother dear, you have made me happy. 
 Have no care nor misgiving on that point." And as her 
 mother burst into tears on hearing these words, she added in 
 a stifled voice, " Don't cry, you will grieve me, and it might 
 
 be thought " She did not finish her phrase, but nervously 
 
 clasping her mother in her arms for the last time, ''Come," 
 said she, ''we must separate. Come, leave me now — until 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Madame de Beaulieu felt reassured by Claire's apparent 
 calmness, and she returned to the drawing-room with a weight 
 off her mind. 
 
 At this moment Suzanne entered Madame Derblay's apart- 
 ment, followed by Brigitte. Doubting the latter's dexterity, 
 she had determined to accompany her and assist her in dis- 
 charging her duties. As lightsome as a bird she turned 
 round the room, carefully superintending the maid, whilst 
 Claire looked on in silence, but with a gleam of suspicious 
 displeasure in her eyes. She thought to herseK that her 
 husband's sister would be incessantly on the watch, and that 
 her eyes, guided by affection for her brother, would note each 
 fit of melancholy that overcame her. Claire thus looked upon 
 Suzanne as a spy, and, carried away by the exaggeration of 
 her feelings, she began to hate her. 
 
 However, the young girl had divested Claire of her veil 
 and wreath, and was daintily fingering them, smoothing the 
 creases of the tulle, and straightening the flowers — tormented 
 plainly enough by some secret desire which she hesitated to 
 express. At length, however, approaching Madame Derblay 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 195 
 
 again, ''It is thouglit in our province," site said, with 
 a blusli, " that a spray of orange-blossoms brings happiness 
 when culled from the wreath of a bride one loves. I love 
 you very dearly, sister, so will you allow me to take a few of 
 these flowers?" 
 
 Claire looked coldly at ["^Suzanne, and suddenly tearing 
 away the garland which adorned her dress, she threw it at 
 her feet, exclaiming, " If these flowers bring happiness I 
 have no need of them. There, you can take them, take them 
 aU." 
 
 Suzanne stepped back in astonishment ; the wreath fell 
 from her hands, and turning her tearful eyes on Claire, 
 " You don't seem to care for these flowers," she said. ** And. 
 yet they were given you by my brother." 
 
 Claire was touched by this complaint, and for one instant 
 she seemed about to soften. But her proud, obstinate nature 
 swiftly regained supremacy, and she let the hand she was 
 holding out to Suzanne drop to her side again. 
 
 "Leave her, my dear girl," said the Baroness to Mademoi- 
 selle Derblay. '' She needs a little calm. Don't be grieved ; 
 take up the wreath again ; it will serve you as- a pattern one 
 of these days." And showing Suzanne a smiling face, she 
 led her — now reassured — to the drawing-room door. 
 
 Absorbed in her painful thoughts, Claire sat motionless and 
 silent with her eyes fixed upon vacancy. ''WeU, my dear, 
 what are you thinking of?" asked the Baroness, returning 
 towards her. ''You have sadly grieved that poor girl, and 
 she really did not deserve it. Can't you manage to control 
 your nerves?" And then in a bantering tone Madame de 
 Prefont added, "Come, frankly now, you wouldn't look 
 more overwhelmed if you were being led to execution to the 
 tune of the funeral march in the fifth act of Za JuiveP 
 
196 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Claire replied with. such, a reproachful glance that her cousin 
 at once became serious again. '' Come," said she, " speak to 
 me and tell me everything. What is the matter ? " 
 
 Claire rose to her feet, took a few steps at hazard, and then 
 pausing in front of the Baroness, and clasping her hands with 
 a gesture of anguish, ''Can't you see howl suffer?" she 
 asked. ^' Don't you understand that I feel as if I were going 
 mad ? In a moment you will have gone, all of you — all those 
 who love me — and I shall remain alone in this great unknown 
 house. What can I catch at? whom can I turn to ? Every- 
 thing that bound me to the past is severed ; everything that 
 could have attached me to the future has disappeared." 
 
 ''You are grieving and worrying yourself as if you were 
 really abandoned," said the Baroness. "But come, you 
 haven't lost the affection of your relatives. And besides, 
 you have fresh affection awaiting you — sincere, devoted 
 affection. Your husband is there ; he loves you ; be con- 
 fident." 
 
 The Baroness stopped short, for as she pronounced the 
 words "your husband," she saw Claire shudder. "Oh! if 
 you only knew what is passing within me," muttered Madame 
 Derblay. " I was bent on this marriage, no doubt ; my pride 
 urged me madly on ; but now that it is accomplished it horri- 
 fies me. That man my husband ! Ah! I should like to fly 
 from him. Don't leave me yet, stay here ; he will not dare to 
 come to me as long as you are with me. Oh, that man ! That 
 man who inspires me with the first fear I have ever felt in 
 life — ah ! how I hate him ! " 
 
 "Good heavens! you frighten me!" exclaimed the 
 Baroness, who really felt alarmed. "Perhaps your mother 
 has not gone yet. Shall I call her ?" 
 
 "No, no!" Claire answered hastily. "I must hide the 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 197 
 
 truth from her more than from any one else. You saw how I 
 restrained myself when she was here. She must never know 
 my fears; she must never suspect my despair. Poor dear 
 mother ! It was for love of me that she helped me to con- 
 elude this marriage. If she only thought! Oh, no! 'Tis 
 enough that I should suffer. It was I that willed it, and I 
 alone must bear the burden. My weakness is inexcusable, 
 unworthy of me. Eest at ease, _ I will not give way like 
 that again." 
 
 The Baroness looked at Claire, alarmed by the bitterness of 
 her tone and the violence of her words ; but nothing could 
 be read in the expression of the young bride's face. '^ Go 
 and join your husband," she added. '' Don't worry yourself, 
 or think about it. Kiss me, and promise me you will forget 
 what has happened here as soon as you leave the room. Will 
 you promise it? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, I will," replied the Baroness. ''Come, till to- 
 morrow." And thereupon, with a stifled sigh and a last sad 
 glance at her cousin, Madame de Prefont left the room, mur- 
 muring, " Poor Claire !" 
 
XI. 
 
 ■Claire remained alone in the spacious room, and lier eyes 
 strayed vaguely round her. The aspect of the apartment was 
 solenm and severe. The lamps cast a soft light over the old 
 tapestry hangings, which depicted the adventures of Eenaud 
 and Armide. Under a tent all gold and purple the knight 
 was stretched at the feet of the enchantress, and smiled as he 
 languidly raised a large drinking-cup of precious metal. 
 Parther on came the two knightly liberators riding through 
 ihe enchanted forest and warding off the monsters that tried 
 to bar their way by means of the magic shield. Finally 
 appeared the battle fought by the Christians against the 
 troops of the Soudan under the walls of Jerusalem, and here 
 Armide was shown, standing in her chariot drawn by white 
 unicorns, and aiming with bow and arrow at Eenaud, all 
 gory with the blood of the infidels. A marvellous Eenais- 
 sance cabinet, in ebony, incrusted with polychromatic marble, 
 stood in a recess, facing a handsome colonnaded bedstead of 
 <3arved pear-wood, which had a canopy of Grenoa velvet, with 
 bunches of flowers woven on a maize ground. An admirable 
 Louis XIII. coffer, in ebony with brass ornaments, served in 
 lieu of the usual commonplace chest of drawers. A superb 
 mirror, in a bronze frame of detached foliage daintily 
 chiselled, reflected the subsiding glow of the fire now smoul- 
 dering in a lofty sandstone chimney-piece, above which, set in 
 
THE ironmaster; or, love and pride. 199 
 
 the wainscot, tliere appeared a remarkable oil-painting of tlie 
 SpanisL. school, depicting a fair infanta, rigid in her stiff 
 costume, with her chin resting on a lace ruff, and with a 
 melancholy smile playing over her face as she inhaled the 
 perfume of a rose. Broad brass fiUets fastened to the walls, 
 and a Flemish chandelier hanging from the panelled ceiling, 
 completed the decoration of the room, at once so rich and 
 simple in its aspect. 
 
 But Claire cared little for the surroundings. She was 
 thinking. Carried away by her desire to avenge herself on 
 the Duke and Athenais, she had deceived herseK as to the 
 situation in reserve for her. She had dismissed all thought 
 of what would happen when the marriage was accomplished. 
 She had fervently hastened the wedding, anxious that society 
 should believe it was she who had jilted the Duke, and not the 
 Duke who had forsaken her. But now, all on a sudden, she 
 found herself face to face with the cruel reality. The neces- 
 sities of married life appeared to her, revealed by this room, 
 which would belong to her husband as to herseK, by this 
 couch, which she must share with a man who was almost a 
 total stranger to her. 
 
 Her feminine delicacy revolted at the thought. She held 
 Philippe and herself in horror. She must have been mad 
 when she decided on this marriage, and he had acted most 
 unworthily in lending himself to her plans. Her ideas 
 became confused and whirled despairingly through her 
 brain. She went to the window, and opening it, inhaled the 
 fresh night air, which made her a little calmer. The moon 
 had passed through the clouds, and shone over the lofty 
 trees in the park, with its pale disc mirrored in the sheet of 
 water. All was silent and solemn, and Claire asked herself 
 if it would not be better for her to disappear for ever in the 
 
200 THE ironmaster; 
 
 midst of this pure deep peacefulness, rather than struggle 
 against the shameful and repugnant difB.culties of life. She 
 thought, for one moment, of hastening to that shining, 
 unruffled water, and of confiding herself to its keeping, like 
 Hamlet's pale Ophelia, in the immaculate virginity of her 
 first and only love. 
 
 But she was deterred by concern as to the opinion of 
 society, by the same anxiety as to what other people might 
 say that had influenced her so fatally in her earlier resolu- 
 tions. She smiled bitterly at the thought that Athenais 
 would probably say she had killed herself for the love of the 
 Duke. She shrank from the commotion which this romantic 
 death would cause among all who knew her. She did not 
 wish to rend the hearts of her relatives, and leave them as a 
 legacy the almost degrading shame of the suicide. She 
 glanced for the last time at the luminous, quiescent water, 
 and closing the window, went and sat down near the fire- 
 place. It was settled, she realised it ; she no longer belonged 
 to herself. She must live, live bound to a man who was on 
 the point of coming to her armed with his rights and privi- 
 leged to enforce his will upon her — upon her, hitherto so free 
 and invariably obeyed. She experienced mingled fear and 
 anger at the thought. Her pride protested against sub- 
 jection, and eager for revolt, she asked herself how she might 
 best wring her liberty from her husband. 
 
 She dreamt of a form of wedlock in which husband and 
 wife would both remain free. She cared little whether 
 Philippe remained faithful or not, provided he were respectful 
 and submissive. He might do what he pleased on condition 
 that she remained her own mistress. Would it be so very 
 difficult to induce this ironmaster, an ambitious man, no 
 doubt, to show some amount of deference to the wishes of a 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 201 
 
 wife wlio placed a large fortune and higli family influence at 
 liis disposal? Slie had divined tliat h.e loved her, but she 
 could not take his feelings into account. With the despotism 
 of a woman accustomed to see everything bend to her fancy, 
 she waived this embarrassing question of his love aside, and 
 determined to stand her ground if he showed himself exacting. 
 She was proud and energetic, capable of fighting and strug- 
 gling if need be, and she felt confident that she would 
 triumph over all resistance, however serious. In her implac- 
 able selfishness, she did not once think of how grievously she 
 was about to wound the heart of the man who adored her. 
 
 The noise of footsteps sounding in the adjoining room 
 made her suddenly start. The blood rushed to her face, and 
 too nervous to remain seated, she rose, and leaning on the 
 mantelshelf murmured, '' It is he ! " 
 
 Philippe had remained alone after doing the honours of the 
 house to his friends and relatives and superintending their 
 departure. As the last of them drove away he betook himseK 
 almost mechanically to his bachelor's bedroom. The apart- 
 ment he was to occupy with his wife had formerly belonged 
 to his father and mother. With delicious perturbation he re- 
 flected that close by, separated merely by a few doors, the 
 woman he loved was awaiting him, in her white bridal robe, 
 and even more a prey to emotion than himself. He had often 
 thought with yearning of the happy hour when this beautiful 
 girl would become wholly his, but now it seemed as if all 
 desire were quelled. He was grave, preoccupied, and greatly 
 touched. His love for Claire was blended with a kind of pro- 
 tective tenderness. He felt for her almost the same affection 
 as he had felt for his sister when she was a child. In his 
 heart he thanked Providence for granting him possession of 
 the treasure he had so ardently coveted ; and he vowed that 
 
202 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 he would show himself worthy of the favour conferred upon 
 him and do everything in his power to make Claire truly 
 happy. 
 
 HaK an hour after the last guest had gone off he was still 
 in his bachelor's room, seated in his arm-chair and thinking. 
 As he suddenly realised the flight of time, he smiled and con- 
 sidered himself rather foolish. Then springing to his feet he 
 hastened into his dressing-room. He caught sight of himself 
 in the cheval-glass, and on noting his wedding attire it 
 occurred to him that it would he supremely ridiculous to 
 appear before his wife in a dress coat and a white necktie. 
 He accordingly donned a dark blue morning suit, and then 
 with a palpitating heart, with inexpressible emotion pervading 
 his whole being, he took the way to Claire's apartment. After 
 crossing the little drawing-room he rapped lightly at the door, 
 but obtained no answer. Considering, however, that he had 
 sufficiently announced his coming, he turned the handle and 
 went in. 
 
 Claire, who still wore her bridal dress, was standing silent 
 and grave beside the chimney-piece, with her arm resting 
 on the mantelshelf. She did not look at him, but merely 
 lowered her head, and Philippe could see her fair hair scintil- 
 lating in the lamplight. He took a few steps forward and 
 speaking with effort asked, '' Will you allow me to approach 
 you?" 
 
 Claire made a gesture of assent, and profiting by the 
 authorisation, Philippe glided to the sofa, where he sat down^ 
 or rather crouched, bending forward at such an acute angle 
 that he seemed to be almost at his wife's feet. He looked at 
 her attentively, and her contracted features and their harsh 
 expression astonished him. He was already acquainted with 
 that wild threatening gleam in her eyes ; he had noted it when 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 203 
 
 she was in the presence of the Due de Bligny. He felt 
 anxious on seeing her thus drawn together, as it were, as if 
 she were preparing for a struggle. He could not divine her 
 projects, but he instinctively foresaw some form of resistance. 
 However, he was determined to try and penetrate that heart 
 which remained so obstinately closed, determined to endeavour 
 to solve this living riddle, and thus he at once became as calm 
 and as collected as he had been nervous and troubled a few 
 moments before. This change in Philippe's mind was ominous 
 for Claire. She might easily have subdued a troubled, hesi- 
 tating husband, but by putting him on his guard she revived 
 all his penetration and energy. 
 
 ''We are now for the first time alone," said Philippe in a 
 low voice, ''and I have many things on my heart which I 
 wish to tell you. So far I have not dared to speak — I should 
 not have expressed my feelings properly. All my life has 
 been spent in work. And I must beg you to be indulgent. 
 Believe me, what I say can give no idea of what I feel. You 
 have often seen me approach you, stammer a few words, and 
 then lapse into silence. I was afraid of appearing either too 
 bold or too timid. And this fear paralyzed me. I contented 
 myself with listening to you, and your voice seemed like music 
 to my ears. I forgot everything while looking at you and 
 watching you as you walked along the terrace in the sunlight. 
 Thoughts of you absorbed me and I began to adore you. IS'ow 
 indeed you have become my only thought, my hope, my life. 
 And thus judge of my happiness when I see you there, near 
 me and wholly mine ! " 
 
 As he spoke, Philippe took hold of Claire's hand and 
 pressed it passionately to his burning brow. But she stepped 
 
 back and disengaged herself. "I beg you, monsieur " 
 
 said she in a tone of weariness. 
 
204 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Philippe hastily raised his head, and looking in astonish- 
 ment at Claire, ''What worries you?" he asked. "Ami 
 so unfortunate that my words displease you ? " 
 
 '' Do not speak them now, I beg of you," answered Claire, 
 gently. " You can see that I am deeply distressed." 
 
 Philippe was touched by his wife's sorrowful tone, and 
 shaking his head sadly he exclaimed, ''Yes, you are pale 
 and trembling. Am I the cause of it ? " 
 
 Claire averted her face to hide the tears which were trick- 
 ling down her cheeks and then in an unsteady, quivering 
 voice, she answered, " Yes." 
 
 " Set your mind at ease, I beg of you," rejoined Philippe. 
 "Can you not realise that my first and foremost wish is 
 to avoid displeasing you ? What would you have me do ? 
 Tell me. The task will be an easy one, for I love you so." 
 
 The young wife started joyfully. It seemed as if a ray of 
 hope shone through the darkness in which she was struggling. 
 Noting her husband's passionate ardour, she realised what 
 boundless power she might exercise over him, and she 
 pitilessly decided to abuse her position. She became 
 coquettish, and looking at the ironmaster for the first time, 
 with an insidious smile, " If you love me," she said, 
 "then " 
 
 She finished her phrase with a gesture which Philippe fully 
 understood. 
 
 "Do you wish me to leave you V " he asked submissively. 
 " Is that the trial you are pleased to impose on me ? I wiU 
 resign myself to it if such be your wiU." 
 
 Claire breathed again with a delightful feeling of relief. 
 She realised that she was the absolute mistress of this man 
 who had so frightened her at first. The expression of her 
 face at once changed, and she looked at Philippe with a ra- 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 205 
 
 diant brow. *' Yes," said she, "1 should feel grateful to you. 
 The day's emotion has upset me. I need calm ; I need to 
 think. But later, to-morrow, when I am more self-possessed, 
 more mistress of myself, I will explain to you " 
 
 Philippe remained for a moment silent. Certain of Claire's 
 words did not ring clearly. This postponement, suggested 
 with so much embarrassment, seemed to him suspicious. 
 There was some mystery in all this, and he must solve it. 
 ''What will you tell me to-morrow, or later on, that I cannot 
 hear to-day?" he rejoined. ''Isn't my life henceforth 
 inseparable from yours ? Our road is traced already. It is 
 for you to be confiding and sincere, for me to be devoted and 
 patient. I am prepared to be so, I assure you. Are you of 
 the same disposition? " 
 
 Philippe's language was clear and firm, and he looked his 
 wife full in the face whilst speaking. She feared she had 
 advanced too rapidly, and accordingly retreated. "Let me 
 tell you that confidence is not acquired in a moment," said 
 she. " I have only been married for a couple of hours. And 
 alas ! my life dates farther back than that. My Kfe was 
 a happy one. I had the right to think aloud. I was free to 
 remain silent when I chose. I have never been compelled to 
 prevaricate. My troubles — I was not without troubles, as you 
 know — were readily guessed, and those about me understood 
 that the recollection of them could not fade away at once. I 
 was greatly spoiled — never asked to smile when I felt sad at 
 heart. But if I must resign myself to dissimulation with you, 
 I beg of you to grant me time to grow accustomed to such 
 constraint." 
 
 Claire had skilfully shifted the question, so as to avoid a 
 frank reply. She set herself up as a victim, and insistence 
 would have seemed cruelty on Philippe's part, as he well 
 
206 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 realised. '' Pray don't add another word," cried he, hastening 
 as it were to the sacrifice expected of him. ''You wrong me 
 with those suppositions. You will never have a more tender 
 and devoted friend than myself. In marrying you I took my 
 share of your troubles, and my ambition is to efface them from 
 your memory. Rely on me ; I am responsible for your happi- 
 ness. If you have had deceptions in the past, hope for some- 
 thing better in the future. Far from me be the thought of 
 imposing my love upon you. All that I ask of you is to allow 
 me to try, by dint of care and tenderness, to win you from 
 yourself. That is all my ambition ; and since you need repose 
 and solitude, remain here as free and as confident as you were 
 yesterday. I will retire, for that is what you wish, is it not ? 
 Well, let it be as you desire." 
 
 These words had not merely irritated the young wife, but 
 made her apprehensive as well. The ironmaster showed him- 
 self so proud and so magnanimous that it seemed as if all the 
 combinations she had devised in view of regaining her liberty 
 would result in miserable failure. Philippe hastened to satisfy 
 her wishes with such unexpected alacrity that she asked her- 
 self if it would be possible for her to live apart from him ? 
 He adored her, and he declared that his ambition was to win 
 her love. How could she for ever repel such a loyal, generous 
 man, without showing herself unjust or cruel. Her husband's 
 gentleness and tenderness would prevent her resisting on the 
 morrow, unless downright brutality was had recourse to. She 
 realised the danger she ran, and determined to escape it by 
 resolutely severing the ties that united her to Philippe. 
 
 As she remained silent and motionless, her husband ap- 
 proached her. He leant forward, and his lips touched her 
 forehead. '' TiU to-morrow," said he; but as he inhaled the 
 perfume of her golden hair, as his mouth came in contact 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 207 
 
 with, her quivering brow, he was seized with, a wild, mad, 
 passionate longing. Forgetful of his promises, oblivious of 
 the- susceptible feelings of the troubled heart which beat so 
 near his own, conscious only that he was beside an adorable 
 woman whom he passionately loved and who belonged to 
 liim, he caught her in his arms in an irresistible transport, 
 and looking at her with burning eyes exclaimed, ''Ah.! if you 
 only knew how much I love you." 
 
 Surprised at first, Claire promptly turned livid. She threw 
 herself back, and setting her hands on her husband's shoulders, 
 she tried to escape this contact wbicli was so odious to her. 
 ''Leave me ! " she cried in an angry voice. 
 
 Philippe unlinked his arms, and drew back in turn ; then, 
 looking at his wife, who stood before him with trembKng limbs 
 and her face convulsed as it were with anguish, "AVhat!" 
 said he in a troubled voice, "you do not even allow me to 
 touch, your forehead with my lips. You repel me with violence, 
 almost with horror. What is passing in your mind ? This 
 is not the mere timidity of a maiden. It is repugnance. Do 
 you hate me, then ? — and why ? Wbat have I done to you ? 
 Ah. ! the words you spoke a little while ago return to me ; now, 
 I fear, I understand them only too well. Since the deception 
 you experienced, something more than bitterness has remained 
 in your heart. There is regret, perhaps " 
 
 " Monsieur ! " protested Claire in a husky voice. 
 
 But Philippe had become excited. Surging anger had 
 brought colour to his cheeks, and walking nervously up and 
 down, "Madame," said he, "this is no time for vague pro- 
 testations. The moment has come for a frank, full explanation 
 between us. Your attitude has inspired me with suspicions 
 that you must dispel. A woman does not repulse her husband 
 without a motive. To treat me as you do, you must " 
 
208 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 Philippe stopped sliort. His voice died away in his throat. 
 He had become extremely pale and his hands trembled ner- 
 vously. However, he drew a long breath, and then taking 
 his stand in front of his wife, so as to carefully observe the 
 play of her features, he resumed, " That man who forsook you 
 so cowardly — that man, do you still happen to love him? " 
 
 Claire realised that a certain, decisive opportunity for the 
 rupture she desired was now at hand, and yet she hesitated to 
 profit by it. Philippe frightened her with his powerful, lucid 
 anger. She remained in suspense before him, with her heart 
 leaping in her bosom, and understanding well enough that 
 her fate now hung on a mere thread. Her silence brought 
 Philippe's anger to such a pitch that he caught her by the 
 arm, and looking at her with flaming eyes exclaimed, ''You 
 have heard me. Answer me. You must do so. I am deter- 
 mined on it." 
 
 The grasp of his hand on Claire's arm was as the touch of 
 a finger on the trigger of a loaded firearm. Her answer sped 
 forth like a bullet. The haughty young bride, wounded by his 
 violence and actuated by resentment, looked her husband full 
 in the face. ''Well, and even if it were so?" she answered 
 audaciously. 
 
 Scarcely were these words spoken than she regretted them. 
 The ironmaster drew himself up to his extreme height. He 
 seemed to increase in stature, his face assumed a terrible 
 expression, and he raised his fist as though he held one of the 
 heavy hammers with which his workmen beat the raw metal. 
 *' You unfortunate woman ! " he cried. 
 
 Claire did not retreat a single step. She lowered her head 
 and let her hands fall listlessly beside her, as though she were 
 a martyr prepared for death. Philippe noticed her attitude, 
 heaved a heartrending sigh, and took a few steps up and 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 209 
 
 down, forcibly clutcliing hold of his right hand with the left 
 one, as if he wished to crush it for having dared to threaten 
 the woman he loved so well. Then regaining some amount of 
 self-possession, ''Come," said he to Claire, ''measure your 
 words. What you have told me cannot be true. It is impos- 
 sible. I am dreaming, or else you have meant to try me. It 
 must be that, is it not ? Oh, don't fear to confess it. I forgive 
 you beforehand, although you have made me suffer sadly. 
 You must not trifle with a heart like mine, as you will know 
 some day. It is a cruel pastime, I assure you." 
 
 He tried to smile, but a bitter twinge clung to his lips. 
 Claire's brow remained obstinately overcast. She seemed 
 insensible, gifted, as it were, with the inert strength of a 
 block of stone. "But speak, come," said Philippe, entreat- 
 ingly. " Tell me something. You are silent. It is true, 
 then?" 
 
 She did not answer a word, but abandoned herself to the 
 fate she had prepared ; vaguely conscious that she was com- 
 mitting a crime, and yet determined, in her unconquerable 
 pride, to carry matters to the bitter end. Philippe, who was 
 overcome with painful stupefaction, approached the window, 
 and leaning his burning forehead against the cool glass, 
 strove to regain his self-possession. He realised that the 
 painful explanation he had provoked was only commencing, 
 and he wished to learn how far Claire had decided to carry 
 her audacious revolt. He approached her again. "And 
 so," said he, " it was with your heart full of another that you 
 consented to marry me ? And despite the unworthiness of 
 his conduct, despite the affront he exposed you to, you still 
 love him ! And you dare to tell me so ! You gave me your 
 word that you would prove a faithful, loyal wife, and this is 
 how you keep your engagement ! Without a blush of shame, 
 
210 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 you placed your hand in mine. Ah. ! to wliat point of moral 
 turpitude liave you fallen tlien ! " 
 
 '^I do not defend myself, monsieur," said Claire. ^'Isit 
 generous on your part to make me suffer? " 
 
 ''You suffer!" cried Philippe. ''And I, do I not suffer 
 also ? I, who love you with all the strength of my soul — I, 
 who was ready to do anything to please you, and who only 
 asked for a little indulgence and affection in exchange. But 
 you have sacrificed me, speculating on my confidence, laugh- 
 ing at my blindness, perhaps, in order to satisfy your wounded 
 pride and hide your mortification ! Do you know such con- 
 duct is atrocious ? " 
 
 "Ah! Have you not perceived that I have been mad for 
 the last fortnight ? " cried Claire, ceasing to restrain herself. 
 " Can you not understand that I am struggling in a circle 
 from which I find no outlet. I was impelled to act as I did 
 by irresistible fate. I must seem to you a miserable woman, 
 but you will never judge my conduct as severely as I judge it 
 myseK. I have deserved your anger and contempt, no doubt. 
 Come ! take everything belonging to me except myseK. My 
 fortune is yours. I give it to you. Let it be the ransom of 
 my liberty ! " 
 
 "Your fortune! You offer it to me? To me?'''' cried 
 Philippe. He was on the point of revealing the truth, of 
 acquainting her, in his indignation, with everything that he 
 had hitherto hidden with such scrupulous delicacy and care. 
 What a vengeance to wreak on haughty Claire ! And how 
 sure, swift, and crushing it would be ! But he cast the idea 
 far aside. He considered it unworthy of him ; and calmed 
 now by the satisfaction he felt on finding himself so morally 
 superior to his wife, he was able to look at her without a 
 vestige of anger. ' ' Do you really take me for a man who 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 211 
 
 sells himself?" he asked coldly. ''Do you think that I 
 merely looked upon my marriage with you as a speculation ? 
 You are mistaken, madame ; you fancy that you have still to 
 deal with the Due de Bligny." 
 
 The thrust reached home, and Claire bounded as if this 
 sneer at the Duke were an insult for herself. " Monsieur ! " 
 she cried with a crushing glance at Philippe. But instead of 
 speaking further she relapsed into silence as if ashamed of 
 herself. 
 
 '^ Well, why do you pause ? " rejoined the ironmaster 
 bitterly. '' Defend him, come. It is the least you can do for 
 him. You are perfectly fitted to appreciate his merits. Your 
 conduct is similar to his own. ' Calculation and deceit,' that 
 is your motto, is it not ? Oh ! I see things clearly now. 
 You wanted a husband who would be your dependant, and 
 you chose a very confident one, one very miich in love. 
 Marriage with me was a 7}iesaUiance, no doubt, but my dociKty 
 would compensate for my low birth. And if I chanced to 
 think of revolting and asserting my rights, why you had all 
 that was needful to close my mouth. A bag of gold, forsooth ! 
 And indeed what could I urge in answer to such an argu- 
 ment ? The husband of such a noble and wealthy wife ! I, 
 such a vulgar, mercenary being ! That is what you planned ! 
 And when do you come and reveal it to me ? Honestly, no 
 doubt, an hour before the wedding ? In time for me to refuse 
 the bargain if I choose? Nothing of the sort! You only 
 enlighten me when I can no longer retreat, when everything 
 is finished, signed, and irrevocable, — when I am irremediably 
 your dupe, and when you no longer need fear my escaping 
 you ! And I, blind that I was, not to have seen the trap 1 
 Simpleton, not to have suspected this smart intrigue ! I, who 
 came here but a little while ago — palpitating and trembling 
 
212 THE ironmaster; 
 
 —to tell you my love ! Wasn't I more tliaii mad, more than 
 grotesque ? Wasn't my conduct cynical and ignoble in the 
 extreme ? For, after all, I have your fortune, of course. I'm 
 paid ! I have no right to complain ! " 
 
 As he uttered the last words Philippe burst into a frightfully 
 bitter laugh, and falling on to the sofa hid his face with his 
 quivering hands. Claire had listened to him without protest- 
 ing, and yet she felt more hurt by her husband's reproaches 
 than troubled by his grief. She had discarded all rules of 
 equity, and the truth irritated her without enlightening her. 
 She did not hear Philippe's cry of anguish ; she only thought 
 of the irony of his words. 
 
 ''Monsieur!" she said haughtily, ''let us finish this. 
 Spare me useless raillery " 
 
 Philippe hastily drew his hands aside, and showing his face, 
 down which the tears were streaming, "I am not railing, 
 madame," he replied. " I am weeping — mourning my decep- 
 tive hopes, my happiness for ever lost. But this is enough 
 weakness. You wished to purchase your liberty a little while 
 ago. I give it to you for nothing. Believe me, I shall never 
 seek to trouble it. Between us each tie is severed, and hence- 
 forth we can have nothing in common. Still a public separa- 
 tion woidd cause a scandal which I do not deserve and which 
 I must ask you to spare me. We shall live side by side, but not 
 together. As I do not wish that there should be any equivo- 
 cation between us, I must beg you to listen to what I am about 
 to tell you. You will some day learn the truth. You will 
 realise that you have been even more unjust than cruel, and 
 perhaps you may then think of trying to undo what you have 
 done. But I now warn you that it will be useless. If I saw 
 you on your knees at my feet begging my forgiveness, I 
 should not have a word of pity for you. I might have been 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 213 
 
 indulgent as regards your anger, but I can never forget your 
 selfishness and the callousness of your heart. Adieu, madame ; 
 we shall live as you have willed it. This is your room. I 
 have mine. From this moment you will cease to exist for me." 
 
 Claire did not reply a word, but simply bent her head in 
 token of assent. Philippe, with a pang at his heart, gave her 
 a last glance, hoping for some softening, some return of sen- 
 sibility that would restore her to him at the moment when he 
 was about to lose her for ever. But she remained inert and 
 frigid. Not a gleam shot from her eyes, not a word escaped 
 her lips. He crossed the room, slowly opened the door, and 
 closed it, as if regretfully, pausing again in the little drawing- 
 room to listen if a cry, a sob, or a sigh would give him — 
 wounded and himiiliated as he was — the pretext for returning 
 the first and offering to forgive, whilst there was yet time. 
 But all was silent ; he did not hear a sound. 
 
 Then confronting the door behind which the implacable 
 young woman remained alone, ''Proud creature," said he; 
 " you refuse to bend, but I will break you." 
 
 And passing out into the passage which he had followed so 
 hopefully but an hour^ before, he regained the solitude of his 
 bachelor's room. 
 
XII. 
 
 The lamps now only gave a feeble light, and the fire had 
 gone out, so that the spacious room remained in semi-obscurity. 
 Claire still stood beside the chimney-piece, spell bound as it 
 were, and striving to collect her scattered thoughts. She had 
 triumphed in the struggle, and yet she felt as crushed as if 
 she had been vanquished. A sensation of extreme torpor 
 oppressed her, and her head seemed so heavy that she was 
 obliged to support it with her hand. There was a ringing in 
 her ears which deafened her, and everything seemed to whirl 
 madly round and round before her dazzled eyes. Her heart 
 leapt to her lips, an icy perspiration overspread her brow, 
 and she remained distracted, inert, suffering horribly, feeling 
 as if about to faint, and having neither the strength to move 
 nor the will to call for help. 
 
 She allowed herself to sink on to the sofa, but was com- 
 pelled to rise again at once. Sharp pains twitched the muscles 
 of her limbs, and she was unable to remain seated. To pro- 
 cure some relief she had to walk up and down, despite the 
 heaviness of her head, which seemed to her at once swollen 
 and empty. She felt an acute pain above the left eyebrow, as 
 if some one had hammered a nail into her forehead. Fever 
 dilated her arteries. She walked to and fro, and bent almost 
 double, moaning, so great was her suffering, and ever re- 
 volving in her troubled mind the same harassing, unbearable 
 
THE ironmaster; or, love and pride. 215 
 
 ideas. Although she was awake she seemed a prey to a kind 
 of nightmare ; and she came and went muttering confused 
 words, interrupted from time to time by the convulsive grating 
 of her teeth. 
 
 She suffered like this for hours, obstinately determined not 
 to call for help, and imagining that if she merely so much as 
 opened the door her husband would return in the belief that 
 she was anxious to obtain his pardon. And yet, confident in 
 his loyalty, she had not even turned the key in the lock nor 
 pushed the bolt of the door. She would in truth have been 
 a sorry conquest, a conquest calculated to frighten Philippe, 
 for under the influence of the fever which consumed her she 
 had so greatly changed that she could inspire no other f eeKng 
 than one of pity. 
 
 The first glimpse of dawn surprised her still pacing to and 
 fro, trying to quell by dint of motion the swelling pain in her 
 limbs. She dragged herself along, with a pale face and dim 
 eyes, with her temples beating now as if struck with a pair of 
 hammers. Her strength was failing her. She glanced at 
 the sky, which was tinged with the rosy hues of daybreak, 
 and, hoping that the pure morning air might refresh and calm 
 her, she approached the window to open it. But she had 
 not strength enough to turn the handle, and suddenly a cry 
 escaped her, and she fell back fainting on the carpet. 
 
 At about nine o'clock, when Brigitte approached the door 
 on tiptoe to ascertain if her mistress were still asleep, she 
 heard a melancholy moan. The faithful girl was alarmed, 
 and without hesitating she entered the room. Glaire was 
 stretched motionless in the position in which she had fallen. 
 She was speaking incoherently. Her face was red, and her 
 feet were perfect icicles. Brigitte did not ask herself how it 
 happened that Madame Derblay was lying there, still arrayed 
 
216 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 in her bridal robe, but caught her up in her sturdy arms, 
 undressed her, and put her to bed as if she had been a child. 
 Then, noting that her mistress appeared calmer now that she 
 lay between the fresh cool sheets, the faithful girl hastened 
 to fetch her master. He was dressing in his room. At a 
 glance Brigitte noted the tumbled bed, and read the sadness 
 on Philippe's face. Taking up a handkerchief which lay all 
 moist with tears beside the pillow, she shook her head 
 gloomily, and exclaimed, ' ' Ah, Monsieur Philippe ! What a 
 sad misfortune ! You have been crying, and she " 
 
 The ironmaster turned livid and began to tremble. The 
 idea came to him that Claire had given way to some fit of 
 despair and was dead. ''And she?" he repeated with an 
 expression of frightful agony. 
 
 Erigitte divined his thought. *'No," said she, ''not that, 
 but so very ill." 
 
 Philippe did not wait to hear another word ; but, without 
 even taking the time to put on his coat, he hastened like a 
 madman towards Claire's room. The bridal dress, the 
 tumbled petticoats, the tiny shoes with daintily curved heels, 
 the perfumed white satin stays, lay here and there in disorder 
 on the carpet. Claire was stretched in the large colonnaded 
 bed with a purple face and scintillating eyes but partly 
 opened. The grave-looking warriors on the tapestry, with 
 their lances at rest, seemed to be watching over her. Philippe 
 approached the bedside. She did not recognise him. She 
 was smiling softly with parted, discoloured lips, which dis- 
 closed her pearly teeth. He took hold of her hand, and found 
 that it was burning. After passing such an agitated night, 
 it now seemed as if deep torpor were stealing over her. 
 Philippe was seriously alarmed. He hastily wrote a note to 
 the best doctor at Besan9on, and despatched a servant with a 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 217 
 
 vehicle and a fast horse to fetcL. him. At the same time he 
 sent word to Beaulieu. 
 
 These first duties accomplished, he sat down at Claire's 
 bedside, and abandoned himself to his desolating thoughts. 
 Would she die ? was it all over ? She remained motionless, 
 but her eyes were fully opened now, and he noticed that they 
 squinted. A painful contraction seemed to compel them to 
 look askance. Her brow, moreover, was contracted as if with 
 pain, and from time to time she moaned and raised her hand 
 to the nape of her neck. It was evident that she was suffering 
 terribly, and her delirium became more and more intense 
 each minute. All the husband's rancour died away in pre- 
 sence of this sad sight. Feeling superstitious for the first 
 time in his life, Philippe was seized with the idea that if 
 Claire recovered it would be a sign that happiness was ulti- 
 mately in store for them, and from this moment his only 
 desire was to save her. He loved her madly yet, despite all 
 the sufferings she had caused him ; perhaps — who knows ? — 
 positively on account of them. 
 
 The two hours Philippe spent at Claire's bedside were 
 perhaps the most cruel he had ever known ; and yet his life 
 had already been full of trials. He felt greatly relieved 
 when Madame de Beaulieu and Octave arrived, for it seemed 
 to him that he had now a lesser weight of responsibility to 
 bear. Stupefied and frightened as the Marchioness was, she 
 gave no expression to her feelings. She did not shriek, nor 
 shed a torrent of tears, nor invoke Providence with frantic 
 gestures. She simply asked her son-in-law a few discreet 
 questions, prescribed a few elementary remedies, and then, 
 pale and grave, sat down beside her daughter, who was 
 wholly unconscious of her presence. Octave, who was boiling 
 over with impatience and alarm, had ordered a horse to be 
 
 p 
 
218 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 saddled, and galloped off in view of meeting tlie doctor and 
 hastening his arrival. 
 
 It was nearly noon when the practitioner whom Philippe 
 had sent for reached Pont-Avesnes. He was a man stiU 
 young in years, who had had considerable experience in 
 hospitals, and who was well acquainted with the progress of 
 therapeutics and quite competent to arrive at a serious 
 diagnosis. Besides, no particular penetration was needed to 
 specialise the complaint from which Claire was suffering. It 
 was easily determined by her delirium, the pain she felt in her 
 forehead and at the nape of her neck, and by the bi-lateral 
 contraction which caused her eyes to squint. The doctor felt 
 his patient's pulse, and counted one hundred and twenty pul- 
 sations to the minute, and when the thermometer was placed 
 under her arm-pits it recorded a heat of no less than 85°. 
 The fever was thus extremely intense, and the doctor could 
 not help shaking his head and murmuring, ''Very serious." 
 Then, as the mother, the brother, and the husband gave him 
 an anxious questioning look, he added, '^ Meningitis." Next, 
 applying his ear to Claire's white bosom, which rose and fell 
 with a painful and oft-repeated effort at breathing, he listened 
 attentively for several minutes. " Some commotion at the 
 heart," he said, as he drew himself up again, ''the result of 
 a very severe nervous attack. You must procure some ice 
 and a dozen leeches at once." 
 
 Suzanne, who was listening on the threshold, made a sign 
 to Brigitte, and the faithful maid immediately started off. 
 
 For the last two hours Mademoiselle Derblay had been 
 waiting in the drawing-room, nervously trembling, suspecting 
 that something very strange had happened, but not daring to 
 enter the bedchamber. Now, however, she glided towards 
 the bed, not venturing to speak for fear that she might be 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 219 
 
 sent away, but holding her breath and gazing with a look of 
 terror at Claire's flushed face and colourless lips. The atmo- 
 sph ere of the spacious room seemed to her weighty and oppres- 
 sive, and without a question, guided in fact merely by the in- 
 stinct which makes women such admirable nurses, she walked 
 on tip-toe to the window and opened it. The doctor glanced 
 at her, smiled, and exclaimed, ''Very good." Philippe, who 
 was so absorbed that he had not even seen his sister, now 
 turned towards her with a loving grateful look, and unable to 
 restrain himseK, opened his arms to her and burst into tears. 
 His nerves had been too forcibly strained during the last 
 four-and- twenty hours. Suzanne mingled her tears with his, 
 and leaning on his shoulder murmured, *' Come, don't be 
 afraid, Philippe ; with us to nurse her, she will surely recover. 
 "We will save her between us ! " 
 
 But if Claire were to be saved it could not be by Suzanne's 
 care. Philippe asked his sister, as a great sacrifice, to consent 
 to return to her convent. The ironmaster was afraid of his 
 wife's delirium. She spoke with increasing animation and 
 the name of the Due de Bligny .incessantly rose to her lips. 
 She called to him with mad rage as it were, overwhelming 
 him with reproaches, and openly displaying the cruel wound 
 he had inflicted upon her by his desertion. Philippe also 
 appeared to her in her hallucinations, and always under a 
 threatening aspect. He came armed to kill her, having 
 already killed the Duke. She could see the blood on his 
 hands, and she begged him to strike and slay her so that she 
 might join the man she loved. Philippe had to listen, quiet 
 and motionless, to these delirious words, but he did not choose 
 that Suzanne should hear them. He had sufficient confidence 
 in the future to spare his sister all grief as to his misfortune. 
 He trusted that the painful present would some day fade 
 
220 THE ironmaster; 
 
 away like a bad dream, and lie was desirous tliat there should 
 not be even tbe shadow of a painful recollection to estrange 
 Suzanne and Claire. Mademoiselle Derblay wept bitterly, 
 but obedient as usual to her brother's behest, she started for 
 Besangon under the charge of faithful Brigitte ; and Philippe 
 remained to watch over his suffering wife. From the very 
 first, when the Marchioness perceived how resolutely, saga- 
 ciously, and attentively her son-in-law grappled with the 
 disease, she left him free to act as he judged fit, and contented 
 herself with assisting him in his endeavours. She spent the 
 greater part of the daytime in her daughter's room ; and 
 at night-time Philippe installed himself in an arm-chair at the 
 bedside, and remained watching his wife by the subdued 
 light of a lamp standing in a retired corner. 
 
 The delirium still continued. With a pale face the iron- 
 master had seen Claire's blood trickle drop by drop down her 
 lovely neck, leaving a ruddy trace on her white skin ; but all 
 in vain ; the madness which had seized hold of her poor 
 weakened brain continued to disturb it. Days and nights 
 elapsed and still the fever subsisted, and its ravaging effects 
 increased. The young woman's face had become extremely 
 thin, her cheeks were sunken, and the outline of her jaws 
 became each day more defined. Her limbs were ever rest- 
 lessly on the move, rubbing painfully against the sheets, and 
 a murmur of indistinct words — indistinct since her weakness 
 had become so great — could be heard in the gloom cast by the 
 bed-curtains. On one question alone had Claire's brain 
 retained a semblance of lucidity. She was conscious that 
 Athenais's wedding was taking place whilst she lay stretched 
 on her bed of suffering. She awoke as it were from her 
 trance on the day when her rival triumphantly mounted the 
 steps of the Madeleine, profusely adorned with flowers, thanks 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 221 
 
 to M. Moulinet's lavish, magnificence ; slie was gifted, so to 
 say, with second sight at the precise moment when the crowd 
 flocked into the church, in the wake of the bride and bride- 
 groom. A gleam of lucidity flashed from her eyes and she 
 raised herself up, and, in a distinct tone of voice exclaimed, 
 ^' They are being married now, and I, I am going to die." 
 
 The Marchioness approached the bedside and spoke to her 
 trying to reassure her, but she would not listen. Besides, 
 delirium had already resumed possession of her mind. She 
 had a frightful nervous attack, shrieked and wrung her arms, 
 while her lips were blistered by the intensity of tbe fever and 
 the perspiration saturated her tangled hair. Philippe was so 
 alarmed that he at once sent for the doctor, wbo had not in- 
 tended calling until the evening. As soon as he arrived he 
 remarked a fresh rise in the heat of Claire's body. Like 
 steam-pipes put to too hard a test, h.er arteries seemed on the 
 point of bursting. A degree higher and the end would come. 
 
 That day was a horrible one. Philippe waited for the 
 result of the crisis in mortal agony. He realised that his life 
 was being decided during these interminable bours, and ever 
 and ever through his mind, overcome with, weariness and 
 grief, there revolved, as imperiously as a sentence, the 
 thought, ''If she lives, we shall end by being happy." He 
 believed in the truth of this presentiment, and would willingly 
 have given a part of his own life to prolong Claire's 
 existence. 
 
 The evening came at last, but there was no sign of the 
 passing calmness which usually came over Claire at night- 
 time. With knitted brows and grating teeth she lay on the 
 tumbled bed, incessantly calling for the Duke in a frantic, 
 heartrending tone. Philippe had risen and was leaning over 
 ber, thinking she could not see him. But suddenly her eyes 
 
222 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 dilated and gazed at Mm with a look of horror. She made 
 an effort to raise her arm, and in a husky voice said,'* You 
 have killed him ; what are you waiting for — to kiU me as 
 weU?" 
 
 Philippe, whose heart was rent at finding himself still so 
 cruelly misunderstood, and who was worn out by so many stu- 
 pendous efforts, became for a moment as feeble as a child. 
 Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on the carved wood- 
 work of the bedstead, and shed bitter tears. His tears fell 
 slowly one by one on to Claire's burning brow. They came 
 like some refreshing dew ; it seemed indeed as if these tears, 
 springing from Philippe's heart, were a sovereign remedy. 
 The contraction of Claire's features relaxed. She sighed 
 gently and raised herself on one side to listen. Philippe was 
 sobbing in the gloom without restraint, believing that his wife 
 was stiU senseless. But suddenly a hand was laid on his, and 
 at the same time the sufferer murmured in a weak voice, 
 ''Who is crying like that ? Is it you, mother ? " 
 
 The ironmaster raised his head and saw that Claire's eyes 
 were turned towards him. He approached still nearer, and at 
 last she recognised him. A cloud seemed to pass before her 
 brow, as if she remembered the past. A tear sparkled in her 
 dilated eyes, and holding out her hand to the man whom she 
 had made suffer so cruelly, "Ah, it is you," she said ; " al- 
 ways you — generous and devoted. Oh ! forgive me, Philippe, 
 forgive me ! " 
 
 The ironmaster fell on his knees and passionately kissed 
 those eyes which for the first time looked at him without a 
 gleam of anger. His wife smiled sadly ; then a powerful con- 
 traction lent a harsh expression to her face again ; delirium 
 resumed its hold, and she once more began to stammer dis- 
 connected words. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 22 J 
 
 For three weeks slie had remained between life and death, 
 "but this crisis was the last. After that night the malady 
 entered into a new phase, and violent agitation was followed 
 by increasing torpor. " The comatose period," said the doctor 
 quietly. " So far we have done all we could to send Madame 
 Derblay to sleep, but now we will do all we can to keep her 
 awake." 
 
 As Philippe realised well enough, this meant that Claire 
 would be saved, providing she had no relapse, and providing 
 no unforeseen complications set in. But with the hope of 
 her surviving there came the knotty question of arranging 
 their future life. As long as she had been in danger he had 
 only thought of saving her from death, but now he would 
 have to contend against life itself. On recovering Claire 
 would probably relapse into her former repugnance for her 
 husband. Oppressed by disease, she had been momentarily 
 touched^ she had had a minute's weakness, and had implored 
 his forgiveness. But on regaining her self-possession, would 
 she still show herseK so humble and submissive ? Philippe 
 had learned to know his wife's proud character. He feared 
 a return of her uncompromising pride. He trembled at the 
 thought that she might imagine he had determined to profit 
 by her convalescence to set aside the pact they had made on 
 that frightful wedding-night. If in undignified fashion he 
 broke the engagement which he had himself suggested and 
 enunciated, he would lower himseK, and perhaps for always, 
 in Claire's eyes. Thus it seemed to him that rigour was 
 necessary, and, with the strength of character that he pos- 
 sessed, he had no fear of weakness turning him from his 
 course. He had sworn to himself that he would break his 
 wife's pride, and he prepared to keep his oath. 
 
 It was now January, and the winter had so far been a 
 
224 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 severe one. The ironworks, where labour had been suspended 
 during the height of Claire's illness, were now again in full 
 activity. The noise of the hammers sounding on the anvils 
 enlivened the young wife. Her long convalescence proved 
 very pleasant to her. She found something delightful in this 
 resumption of life, and gazed joyfully on the objects surround- 
 ing her. She was greatly pleased with her spacious room, 
 severe in aspect and somewhat dark, with its old furniture and 
 oostly tapestry hangings. There was nothing noisy about 
 it; everything seemed blended in the same quiet harmony. 
 Glancing from her bed to the hangings, she could see a nymph 
 with streaming hair, who carried a vase whence water gushed, 
 spreading over the plain and flowing on like a river. The 
 design appeared an allegory to Claire, and it seemed to her as 
 if this nymph were pouring out life from the vase she held. 
 Through the high windows she could see the trees, still white 
 with flakes of snow and shining in the wintry sunlight. The 
 birds often flew to the window as if in search of shelter. She 
 looked at them with delight, and was careful to have crumbs 
 of bread scattered on the window-sill in readiness for her 
 feathered visitors. She took interest in everything. Strength 
 gradually came back to her, and it was with genuine pleasure 
 that she felt herself return morally and physically to life. 
 She would lie for hours idly in her bed, listening to the 
 ticking of the clock without an idea in her head, but lost as it 
 were in a delicious sensation of vacuity. 
 
 Her days were spent en tete-d-tete with the Marchioness, 
 Philippe only coming to see her in the morning and the even- 
 ing. He was careful to inquire after her health, and in- 
 variably asked her if there was anything she fancied which he 
 could procure. Then, after remaining seated for five minutes 
 at the foot of her bed, he gravely took his leave. She listened 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 225 
 
 to his footsteps as they died away. She looked forward to 
 his visits, found that they were too short, and began to feel 
 slightly irritated with him. Finding an opportunity for a 
 little quarrel, she took advantage of it with childish pleasure. 
 She was anxious to have some flowers in her room. The con- 
 servatories of Beaulieu were full of floral treasures, and one 
 day the Marchioness brought her daughter a superb bouquet 
 of white lilac. Philippe happened to enter the room and found 
 his wife inhaling the flowers. He gently observed that their 
 perfume might do her harm, and, taking the bouquet from 
 her, he was about to carry it into the drawing-room, when 
 Claire vivaciously exclaimed, ' ' But I feel very well, I assure 
 you, and you really might leave me those flowers." 
 
 '* You are like all convalescents," rejoined Philippe with a 
 smile. " You think yourself stronger than you really are. 
 But we must act reasonably for you." 
 
 "A proof that I'm quite well is that you venture to dis- 
 please me," retorted the young wife, with a coquettish pout. 
 ''You were very different when I was really iU." 
 
 PhiKppe became very grave, and, without replying, he gave 
 Claire a sad, severe glance. She heaved a sigh, and then in a 
 changed voice, ''You are right," she said; "take those 
 flowers away, and thank you." 
 
 Por the rest of the day she was pensive. By degrees the 
 faculty of reflecting returned to her, and recollection of the past 
 came back. She found courage to question herself, and was 
 astonished to find in her heart no trace of the love she had 
 borne the Duke. Indeed, her love for ,him had left her, like 
 a blighted fruit falls from a tree. Nor did she feel any more 
 hatred for Athenais ; she rather pitied her, divining that s h 
 was destined to suffer from incurable envy. She made no 
 inquiries about her rival's wedding ; she presumed it had 
 
226 THE ironmaster; 
 
 taken place. In point of fact, all mention of the Due de 
 Bligny was carefully avoided in her presence, but the precau- 
 tion was really a superfluous one, for she would have heard 
 Gaston spoken of without the least emotion, so thoroughly had 
 her heart changed. 
 
 Her convalescence proved a very long one. The first time 
 she wished to get up she fainted from weakness, and had to 
 be put to bed again. Philippe, who showed great anxiety, 
 at once returned to her bedside, and resumed nursing her 
 with his usual impassive, silent devotion. Her forehead still 
 troubled her, and it seemed as if there were yet something 
 the matter with the coating of her brain. Whenever she 
 moved her head she declared that she felt her brain sway to 
 and fro like a pendulum. *' I was somewhat mad before my 
 marriage," she added with a smile, "but what will it be 
 now?" 
 
 Five months had elapsed since the wedding, when one fine 
 April afternoon she was able to venture into the garden, 
 leaning on her mother and Brigitte. She walked slowly 
 round the sheet of water, pausing from time to time to regain 
 strength, seated on one of the stone benches which the spring- 
 tide sun had warmed. On seeing her as she trod slowly over 
 the gravel walk, no one would have recognised the proud and 
 haughty maiden, of whom her mother had so often said, 
 ''She ought to have been a boy." Her features seemed to 
 have a softer outline, and her eyes beamed with a more gentle 
 light. She had altogether become more feminine, and she 
 appeared shorter, now that she no longer carried her head 
 haughtily erect. 
 
 From that day forth Philippe's manner did not change. 
 Gentle, amiable, and most attentive towards Claire in the 
 presence of strangers, he showed himself cold, grave, and but 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 227 
 
 strictly polite when they were alone. So correctly was tis 
 conduct varied that he passed for a model husband among his 
 friends. The Marchioness never once suspected the truth. 
 Besides, she was accustomed to the quiet, correct gallantry of 
 aristocratic society, and moreover the defunct Marquis de 
 Beaulieu had never shown himself effusive. She accordingly 
 decided that everything was for the best in her daughter's 
 household, and that watchfulness was altogether uncalled for. 
 Quite at ease, moreover, in reference to Claire's health, she now 
 announced her intention of starting for Paris, where Octave 
 had been installed since January. Faithful to his theories of 
 equality, the young Marquis evinced a decided disposition to 
 cast his escutcheon on one side, and cater for clients as a 
 simple advocate. 
 
 Claire thus remained alone with her husband, whom she^ 
 mainly saw at mealtime. After dinner he escorted her into the 
 drawing-room, sat down for five minutes or so, then rose 
 again, wished her good night, and retired to his study. One 
 evening she felt curious to know what he did there, and 
 wrapping herself in a mantle she went into the garden in 
 view of watching him. She could see his shadow, to which 
 the play of the lamplight lent gigantic height, passing 
 incessantly to and fro on the curtains of the study window. 
 He was walking up and down in a thoughtful attitude. 
 Claire went in-doors again, and glided on tiptoe into the room 
 next the study. She sat down in the dark, looked at the ray 
 of light under the door, and listened to Philippe's measured 
 tread, which had a solemn, muffled sound as he passed to and 
 fro over the thick carpet. He continued walking up and down 
 till midnight ; and then, just as the clock finished striking, 
 she heard him open the door on the other side of the study, 
 and at once the ray of light disappeared. 
 
228 THE ironmaster; 
 
 What could lie be thinking of during this prolonged per- 
 ambulation ? What thoughts absorbed him during the long 
 hours he spent in solitude ? Claire would have given a great 
 deal. to have known. She was a woman, be it remembered, 
 and women who are inquisitive can never restrain themselves 
 for long. Thus it happened that one evening, as Philippe 
 was taking leave of her as usual, she suddenly asked him, 
 ''What do you do so far into the night, shut up in your 
 study alone ? " 
 
 ''I attend to accounts that are behindhand," answered the 
 ironmaster quietly. ''And, in fact, it just happens that I 
 have some money to give you." So speaking he drew a 
 bundle of banknotes from his pocket. 
 
 " Some money ? " exclaimed Claire in astonishment. " For 
 me?" 
 
 "Yes, the income of your fortune during six months." 
 And laying the banknotes on the table, Philippe added 
 coldly, "pray see if the amount is correct." 
 
 Claire stepped back ; her face flushed, her hands trembled, 
 and she felt a pang at the heart. " Take it back, monsieur," 
 she cried ; " take it back, pray — I cannot accept this money." 
 
 " But you must take it," rejoined the ironmaster ; and with 
 a disdainful gesture he pushed the notes across the table to 
 his wife. 
 
 She drew herself erect as if preparing for a struggle. 
 Philippe's gesture and tone of voice had wounded all her 
 feelings. Her eyes sparkled, and in a moment she became 
 once more the proud and violent-tempered Claire of other 
 
 times. " I won't " she began, looking at her husband 
 
 audaciously. 
 
 "You won't? " he rejoined with irony. 
 
 Their eyes met, and Philippe's gaze was so firm, so direct, 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 229 
 
 and so powerful, that Ms wife could not bear it. Her resist- 
 ance suddenly gave way, the hand she had proudly raised fell 
 to her side again, and she relapsed — conquered — into painful 
 silence. Without another word the ironmaster bowed to her 
 and left the room. 
 
 For the first time Claire's will had clashed with Philippe's. 
 She felt stunned and broken by the shock. She was obliged 
 to admit that her husband's character was superior to her 
 own, and she experienced mingled irritation and delight at 
 the discovery. She began to esteem him in all sincerity, and 
 attracted, as it were, by his energetic nature, she studied it 
 attentively. In the first expansion of her return to life she 
 had decided she would be amiable, and frankly grant her 
 friendship to Philippe ; and she now observed with no little 
 mortification that she was disposed to grant more than was 
 asked of her. Whilst she was ready to go as far as friend- 
 ship, her husband contented himself with remaining indif- 
 ferent. He did not sulk. There is a means of dealing with 
 the sulks. But no; he simply refrained from paying any 
 attention to her; he let her live as she chose, as she had 
 asked him to do, and treated her with icy coldness. This 
 indifference, which was not without a tinge of disdain, sorely 
 humiliated Claire, and she strove to overcome it. Her nature 
 was an essentially militant one, and she was always in search 
 of some difficulty to vanquish. 
 
 Whenever Bachelin came to dine at Pont-Avesnes, Philippe 
 spent the evening in the drawing-room. Accordingly Claire 
 invited the notary regularly twice a week. She learned to 
 play whist, and took *' dummy " like a dowager. As long as 
 Bachelin was there the ironmaster certainly talked and played, 
 but as soon as his guest withdrew he became grave and silent 
 again. Despite all her. efforts Madame Derblay was quite 
 
230 THE ironmaster; 
 
 unable to soften her husband's will. Tbe power Pliilippe 
 possessed over himself at last exasperated her, and at times, 
 in the solitude of her own room, she gave way to violent out- 
 bursts of anger. She quivered at the thought that she was 
 enthralled. This man was her master. He led her as he 
 pleased, and whenever she tried to revolt, a glance from him 
 sufficed to reduce her to obedience. He seemed to her as cold 
 and as hard as the iron he hammered out. He was fashion- 
 ing her character, and plainly enough he would be able to 
 give it whatever form he pleased. Claire wept with shame 
 as she realised how powerless she was ; still a last vestige of 
 pride enabled her to hide her sufferings from Philippe, and 
 she showed herself such as circumstances required — resigned, 
 not bitterly despondent, and dignified, but not haughty. 
 
 Although she now took but Kttle interest in what happened 
 away from Pont-Avesnes, her relations in Paris did not allow 
 her to forget them. When the Baroness learned that her 
 cousin had recovered she began with intermittent affection to 
 write her long epistles, which were full of incoherent but 
 curious details. It was through Madame de Prefont that 
 Claire received news of the Duke, the Duchess, and M. Mou- 
 linet. Athenais had made a noisy entry into society. She 
 had generally pleased the men^ but on the other hand all the 
 women railed against her free, careless, masculine habits. 
 The Duke paid little or no attention to her. Three months 
 after the wedding it was reported on all sides that he and his 
 wife virtually lived apart. He was now paying court to the 
 lovely Comtesse de Canalheilles, a beauty of Irish birth, whose 
 eyes were as deej) and as troublous as the sea. As for 
 the Duchess, she flirted with half a dozen yoimg fops, with 
 curly hair and irreproachable shirt-fronts, and who followed 
 her about wherever she went. Slie called this little squadron 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 231 
 
 of lovers lier *'six-iii-liand," and sMKuUy tooled tlie reins 
 without any fear of a spill. In point of fact her selfishness 
 and dryness of heart guaranteed her against all surprises. 
 
 In the meantime M. Moulinet, now that he had provided for 
 his daughter, seemed bent on maturing some important plans. 
 He had engaged a secretary, and for several hours every day 
 he shut himself up in a room which he called his library, 
 although the only book it contained was a treatise on political 
 economy laid open on his writing-table. His daughter pre- 
 tended that he conscientiously went to sleep over it from two 
 till five each afternoon. On the other hand, the Baroness 
 declared in her letters to Claire that the ex- judge of the 
 Tribunal of Commerce was supposed to be planning some 
 political candidature. He had been seen about, she said, 
 with various shabby individuals, who could only be journalists. 
 He had, moreover, made several excursions to the Jura. He 
 was building a strictly laical school at La Yarenne, and on 
 the other hand he was secretly restoring the village church. 
 With his left hand he fondled the Eadicals, whilst with the 
 right one he petted the Conservatives. In point of fact, the 
 chocolate-maker was becoming Machiavellian. To tell the 
 truth, ambition had stung him, rather late in the day, perhaps, 
 and yet none the less surely. Having managed his own affairs 
 so well, he considered that he was admirably adapted to 
 manage other people's, and he asked himself if there were 
 a single man in the Chamber of Deputies who could prop 
 up a political situation with a fortune larger than his own. 
 He frankly confessed to himseK that there wasn't one, and 
 having bought his daughter a husband of the highest rank in 
 the market, he saw no reason why he should debar himself 
 a constituency. 
 
 Eor some little time ho hesitated between the Senate and 
 
232 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 the Chamber of Deputies. Senator ! The title seemed to him 
 a majestic one. He retained a kind of worship for this 
 legislative body which once comprised all the more eminent 
 men in the country. On the other hand the title of Deputy 
 had by no means a disagreeable ring ; and, besides, the 
 Chamber seemed to be livelier than the Senate. Moulinet 
 possessed a certain amount of common-sense, and he realised 
 that he should find a sufficient number of dolts and dullards 
 in the lower assembly to acquire promptly enough the repu- 
 tation of being a remarkable man himself. Accordingly he 
 commenced his campaign, and prepared for every sacrifice in 
 view of securing success. The first thing he did was to start 
 for La Yarenne, which was the^ centre of an electoral dis- 
 trict, bordered on one side by that of Besangon, and on 
 the other by that of Pont-Avesnes. M. Derblay possessed 
 great influence throughout the Department, and Moulinet 
 determined to try and secure his good graces. He called on 
 the ironmaster, and cunningly flattered him, with an air of 
 consunmiate simplicity. He did not breathe *a word con- 
 cerning his political plans, but he mentioned that he intended 
 sojourning at La Yarenne during the summer, and he con- 
 trived to make Claire believe that he was simple rather than 
 malevolent, and that in the matter of his daughter's marriage 
 he had unconsciously served her revengeful designs. 
 
 At the same time Moulinet founded a halfpenny news- 
 paper called the Courrier Jurassien at Besan^on, in view of 
 advocating his claims to a seat in the legislature. The 
 editor was one of the shabby individuals whom the Baroness 
 had spoken of in her letters. Moulinet had chosen the cleanest 
 among them, and the journalist having offered him a stock 
 of political opinions to select from, he had decided on a 
 moderately Eepublican line of politics, something that was 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 233 
 
 neither meat nor fish.; deep enough in colour to please 
 advanced folks, and yet sufficiently light to suit the timid. 
 It was like the words of the " Marseillaise " set to the tune of 
 ^' Partant pour la Syrie." After aU, he cared but little ahout 
 a precise tint of political opinions ; he relied on his purse as 
 a decisive argument, and he was not wrong in doing so. It 
 must be mentioned, however, that his plans were by no means 
 to the liking of the Due de Bligny, who considered that, as 
 M. Moulinet had amassed so fine a fortune, he ought only to 
 think of letting his son-in-law enjoy it. In fact, at the first 
 opportunity that presented itself, Gaston spoke his mind in the 
 semi-impertinent, familiar style which he habitually adopted 
 when addressing his wife's father. 
 
 ' ' What wasp has stung you, that you want to plunge into   
 politics?" he asked. ''Don't you think that public affairs 
 are bad enough as it is ? It is really most singular that quiet 
 folks always want to rush into a scuffle ? Do you know the 
 electors might be fools enough to return you?" 
 
 "But, my dear Duke, I hope they will." 
 
 " Well, we'U see what it will cost you." 
 
 *' What can that matter to you ? " 
 
 ''It matters a great deal to me. I married an only 
 daughter, and now you give her a sister." 
 
 "A sister?" 
 
 " Certainly ; a sister called Politics, and a sister who will 
 have a great many children, too — all your touters, agents, 
 assistants, protectors and defenders, without counting the 
 electors, who will vie in squeezing money out of you. Heaven 
 knows where it will stop ! " 
 
 Moulinet made a majestic gesture, and clapped his hand 
 to his waistcoat pocket, a deplorable habit he was never able 
 to get rid of. " My means allow me to have whatever fancies 
 
 Q 
 
234 THE ironmaster; 
 
 I choose," said he. ''I am only sixty years old, and I might 
 keep ballet-girls if I pleased " 
 
 '' Oh ! I shotddn't consider it a crime. That's a folly I can 
 understand. A little foot, a dainty ankle, a slim waist in a 
 golden circlet, like the gipsies wear in the ballet in Faust,. 
 and a pair of black or blue eyes looking over the stalls in 
 search of you — aU that's very nice and pleasant. .If you 
 would like me to introduce you into the dancing /oy^r at the 
 Opera, I'll do so. But the idea of pajdng court to Marianne,** 
 offering her flowers and making her an allowance I Come, 
 you positively distress me. Monsieur Moulinet ! You had 
 far better choose the ballet-girls." 
 
 '' I'm sorry to displease you, my dear Duke, but I'm a man 
 of moral principles. I prefer politics " 
 
 ^' Well, I wish you joy ; but tell me, if you are elected, do 
 you mean to speak ? " 
 
 ' ' Very probably I shall." 
 
 ' ' Indeed ! It will be amusing. I shall take my friends to 
 hear you. But, at all events, try not to become a minister. 
 You would end by compromising me." 
 
 However, Moulinet treated his son-in-law's banter with 
 contempt, and steadily proceeded with his plans. In fact, 
 early in the spring he arrived at La Yarenne, and at- once 
 began working the electors vigorously. 
 
 At about the same time that the Marchioness returned to 
 Beaulieu Suzanne came home from the convent. Claire had 
 had some little influence in this latter respect. Mademoi- 
 selle Derblay's arrival imparted more animation to the house, 
 and the relations of husband and wife improved, at least in 
 appearance. Philippe had to act a part in Suzanne's presence 
 and show himself affectionate towards his wife. He accom- 
 
 * The slang name by wliicli French Eoyalists designate the Eepuhlic. 
 — Trans, 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 235 
 
 plished this most skilfully, so tliat not even the faintest 
 suspicion was aroused in his young sister's candid mind. She 
 thought that her brother was completely happy. As for 
 Claire, she did not recognise her. So proud and morose as 
 Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, she was now simple and lively. 
 Suzanne began to love her sister-in-law very dearly, and 
 Claire treated the young girl with the solicitude of a mother 
 and the gentle affection of a friend. Claire's youth, which 
 had momentarily suffered from the effects of anxiety, care, 
 and grief, now started off afresh, as vigorously as the sap of a 
 young tree. The two sisters did not leave each other. As 
 soon as Suzanne returned to Pont-Avesnes she resumed her 
 visits to the workmen's dwellings, and Claire accompanied her 
 like some good fairy. Taking the money which Philippe had 
 left with her, she expended it in relieving the poor folks of 
 the district. She and Suzanne were constantly to be met on 
 the highways round about Pont-Avesnes, both of them simply 
 attired and followed by Philippe's big brown dog, and every 
 one who met them bowed to them. In a few months Claire 
 became the idol of the labouring classes. At the time of her 
 marriage there had been considerable talk of her in all the 
 surrounding cottages. She was in fact well known to the 
 workfolks of Pont-Avesnes. They had often seen her ride 
 by on horseback, indifferent to surroundings, absorbed in 
 thoughts of the Duke, and carelessly touching her veiled hat 
 with the knob of her riding-whip whenever she was bowed to. 
 It was said that she was very proud, and among themselves 
 the workmen, somewhat spitefully, perhaps, called her ''The 
 Marchioness " like her mother. And '' The Marchioness " she 
 remained, though in another sense, even when she had become 
 Madame Derblay. To, these rough miners and iron-forgers 
 she seemed to come (^ h superior race. Her skin was so 
 
2:6 THE ironmaster; 
 
 wliite, her figure so refined, and she looked so elegant even in 
 her plain dark woollen dress, tliat when she passed through 
 Pont-Avesnes or stood on the threshold of some homestead, 
 she seemed a young queen to all who saw her. However, she 
 was not only worshipped : she was loved as well. 
 
 In the month of July Octave arrived at Beaulieu, and then 
 some delightful excursions began. The two sisters-in-law 
 installed themselves in a little basket carriage, which Claire 
 drove skilfully enough. The Marquis followed on horseback, 
 and they wended their way through the woods of Pont- 
 Avesnes. The tall trees formed a dark verdant vault over 
 their heads ; on each side sprang the fresh green grass inter- 
 spersed with briars and dotted with woodland flowers. The 
 vehicle slowly followed the ruts caused by the heavy carts 
 of the wood merchant who had bought the '' cut " of the year. 
 At times it was necessary to alight. Octave pushed the chaise 
 from behind whilst Suzanne led the horse by the bridle ; and 
 the young man's mare followed Claire like a pet lamb, looking 
 at her with big moist eyes, and extending her neck as if to ask 
 for the customary lump of sugar. 
 
 These were happy days, and Claire forgot her sadness. But 
 at night-time when she found herself alone in her spacious 
 room, a feeling of discouragement came over her again. She 
 had broken, her life and beyond all remedy. She was now 
 sufficiently acquainted with Philippe to understand that he 
 would never return to her. He was faithful to the pact 
 concluded between them. He had given her back her liberty, 
 and she disposed of it as she pleased. Ah ! how joyfully she 
 would have sacrificed it to him. Proud and impulsive as she 
 was, she had met with more than her match, and it was with 
 a kind of bitter pleasure that she acknowledged she was 
 mastered. A man had come who had laid his hand on her 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 237 
 
 slioulder and bent her ; and lie it was whom slie loved now, 
 for the very fact that he had made her feel the power of his 
 wiU. 
 
 During the long hours she spent alone she bitterly re- 
 proached herself for not having been able to discern prior to 
 her marriage what a superior man Philippe really was. She 
 now saw what a high position he occupied. She was con- 
 stantly discovering with astonishment some fresh source of his 
 wealth. Before Suzanne returned to Pont-Avesnes she had 
 been quite ignorant of the existence of the foundry he owned 
 in the Nivernais. But having skilfully questioned her sister- 
 in-law, she learnt with surprise that her husband was on the 
 high road to becoming one of the princes of industry — that 
 great power of the century. She felt ashamed of herself. 
 What ! she had offered her fortune to a man like him, as 
 a compensation for the wrong she had done him ? What was 
 her fortune absorbed in the ironmaster's huge capital ? A 
 drop of water in a lake. She realised how odious and 
 ridiculous her pride had been. She judged that Philippe 
 could only feel contempt for her, and at this idea she was 
 oppressed with bitter sorrow. Still she managed to hide it, 
 following her husband's example with admirable strength 
 of mind. 
 
 On the other hand, the love she now felt for Philippe 
 became apparent in many little things. Her face lighted up 
 whenever he approached her. She constantly looked at him, 
 and invariably did whatever she thought would please him. 
 Suzanne proved a precious auxiliary in this, the by- play of 
 love. One afternoon, on the terrace, just after lunch, as 
 Mademoiselle Derblay was amusing herself by passing a blade 
 of grass across Claire's neck, the latter caught her by the 
 shoulders and drew her towards her. Philippe was seated 
 
238 THE ironmaster; 
 
 hard by, sipping a cup of coffee and carelessly watching some 
 starlings who pursued each other with shrill cries. Claire took 
 her sister-in-law's head in her hands and looked at her with 
 beaming eyes. Then suddenly she heaved a sigh, and pressing 
 her lips to the curls which fell over Suzanne's forehead, " Dear 
 girl," she murmured, '*how like your brother you are." 
 
 Philippe heard her and started. This was the first time 
 that anything so much to the point had sped from Claire's 
 heart to his own. He remained for a moment motionless, and 
 then, abruptly rising, he walked off without saying a word. 
 Madame Derblay wiped away a tear which was pearling in 
 her eyes, while Suzanne threw herself into her arms with 
 frenzied affection as it were. ''You are crying," she said, 
 ''you are crying! What is the matter! Come, tell me! 
 You know how much I love you.. Has Philippe done any- 
 thing to hurt you ? It must have been unconsciously, and a 
 word, no doubt, would Come, shall I speak to him? " 
 
 "No, no," answered Claire, trying to smile. "I am only 
 a little out of sorts. But Philippe is perfect. And I, I am 
 very happy," she added seriously, looking into Suzanne's 
 eyes, as if to convince her all the more. Then rising to her 
 feet, "Let us go for a stroll," she gaily said. And they 
 went off into the park, running after each other like two mad 
 schoolgirls and laughing as if nothing had happened. 
 
 This was one of the last relatively happy days that Claire 
 spent. On the morrow the Duke and Duchesse de Bligny 
 arrived at La Yarenne. Claire felt annoyed on hearing of 
 their presence in the neighbourhood. She had hoped that 
 she would never see them again. She remarked that Philippe 
 looked at her more attentively than usual, and she at once 
 endeavoured to retain a calm, impassive countenance. That 
 same evening, as soon as Suzanne had retired, the ironmaster 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 239 
 
 spoke to Ms wife respecting tlie connection they slioiild keep 
 up with the inmates of La Yarenne. 
 
 ''The Due de Bligny is your nearest relative after your 
 brother," he said quietly. ''There has heen no apparent 
 rupture between him and your family. At the time of our 
 marriage you even endeavoured to keep the connection on a 
 good footing. I don't think it would be wise to alter that 
 line of conduct now. My opinion is that if the Duke and 
 Duchesse de Bligny call here we ought to receive them as 
 your relatives — that is, as well as we can. If we close our 
 doors to them we shall expose ourselves to all sorts of com- 
 mentaries, which for my own part I should like to avoid. 
 Still I don't presume to impose my views on you. You are 
 more interested in the question than any one else. Pray tell 
 me your opinion, and I will act in accordance with it." 
 
 Claire remained for a moment silent. It seemed to her as 
 if the return of the Duke and Athenais betokened some great 
 peril. She had a presentiment that complete irremediable 
 misfortune would enter the house in their train. At one 
 moment she was on the point of speaking, of opening her 
 heart to Philippe, of begging him to spare her, perhaps ; 
 but her courage failed her, and she blindly accepted his 
 decision. 
 
 "You are right," she said. "They must be fittingly re- 
 ceived. I must thank you for accepting this constraint. The 
 Duke's presence will be as painful to me as to you. I trust 
 you will not doubt it." 
 
 Philippe made a sign which meant neither yes nor no, and 
 the conversation ended. 
 
xin. 
 
 The Dulie did not instal himself at La Yarenne of his own 
 accord. He detested the country like a true Parisian, and all 
 the verdure he cared for was furnished by the plane-trees on 
 the Boulevards and the chestnut -trees in the Champs-Elysees. 
 His chief attraction was his cluh, where he passed his after- 
 noons and the better part of his evenings. He was in no- 
 wise of a contemplative nature and he hated reading. 
 
 When his father-in-law proudly led him into the conserva- 
 tories of La Yarenne and showed him the superb collection of 
 orchids which his gardener, a man whom he treated with de- 
 ference, had begun to form at great expense, the Duke glanced 
 carelessly at the symmetrical rows of flower-pots and just 
 muttered, ^' Yery pretty." Then plucking one of the marvel- 
 lous floweis from its stem, he set it in his button-hole. The 
 gardener was thunderstruck when he saw this[flower culled so 
 unceremoniously, for it had only been produced at great cost 
 and by dint of great care, and in his amazement he let a pot 
 of begonia he was about to show slip through his fingers on to 
 the tiles. Then giving Moulinet a stern glance, he walked 
 out of the conservatory. 
 
 " Do you know that flower has cost fifteen louis ? " remarked 
 the ex-judge of the Tribunal of Commerce with a smile. 
 
 "Ah!" said the Duke quietly. ''Well, all the same, I 
 don't find it too dear for me." 
 
THE IRONMASTER ; OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 241 
 
 Moulinet looked askance at his son-in-law, but lie did not 
 dare to say anything. The fact is, he feared the Duke. He 
 was always put out of countenance by the manner in which 
 Gaston seemed to take his measure whenever he looked at 
 him. One evening in Paris, now long ago, he had said to 
 young Maitre Escande, the notary, ' ' Do what we will, the 
 nobles will always be our superiors." And in point of fact, 
 although he had tendencies towards equality especially since 
 beginning his electoral campaign, he by no means felt on a 
 level with the Duke. 
 
 As the conservatories had produced no effect, he trusted to 
 succeed better with the stables, where he had a dozen saddle 
 and carriage horses installed, which his head coachman pro- 
 nounced to be perfect, and for which he had paid accordingly. 
 The stables of La Yarenne are really magnificent. They are 
 built of brick in the Mauresque style, which proved particu- 
 larly pleasing to the ex-commercial judge. Whenever he 
 spoke of them he was in the habit of remarking, '* They are 
 very like the Alhambra and the new College Chaptal in 
 Paris," thus grotesquely establishing a parallel between the 
 marvel of Granada and a nineteenth -century educational 
 estabKshment. But to return to La Yarenne. The courtyard, 
 which is more than a couple of hundred yards across, is 
 surrounded on its four sides by a range of buildings com- 
 prising the stables proper, the coachhouse, the harness-room, 
 and the forage-store. A monumental entrance, with stone 
 pillars adorned with horses' heads in bronze, conducts into the 
 courtyard. Arcades run round the buildings, forming a paved 
 promenade three yards wide. A wooden palisade, painted 
 white and of a convenient height for leaning against, separates 
 these arcades from the central space, where the horses are 
 turned out and trotted up and down. 
 
242 THE IKONMASTER ; 
 
 Tbe Duchess, who was arrayed in a robe of foulard, with a 
 collar of Venetian point, and who carried a large red parasol 
 in her jewelled hand, accompanied her father and her husband 
 on their visit to the stables.. She set her little shoes on the plaited 
 straw borders of the litters and looked at the horses, installed 
 in separate boxes, above which a plate had been fixed for 
 inscribing each animal's name. The stables met with the 
 Duke's approval, but he looked very coldly at the horses 
 themselves. The head coachman touted in vain for compli- 
 ments. At the first glance the Duke noted each animal's 
 defects, and the result of his remarks was that M. Moulinet 
 indulged in some very serious reflections. In the evening there 
 was a thorough explanation, from which it resulted that M. 
 Moulinet' s son-in-law was too good a judge of horseflesh for 
 animals worth eighteen hundred francs to be palmed off 
 henceforth by the coachman on his master at the price of six 
 thousand. The Duke expressed his opinion in a manner 
 which won him the coachman's full esteem. ^'Eob your 
 master, my good fellow," said he, ^' it's only natural; but for 
 heaven's sake let him have decent animals." 
 
 Having shown the Duke his conservatories and his stables 
 with equal failure, the ex- judge of the Tribunal of Commerce 
 found that he had nothing more to entertain him with. In 
 the society of his wife and M. Moulinet Gaston soon began to 
 feel intensely weary. He preferred solitude to their comj)any, 
 and each afternoon, as soon as lunch was over, he shut himself 
 up in the smoking-room, where, stretched on the broad leather 
 divan, he slept at ease. After a week of this life, feeling he 
 could support it no longer, and conscious that if he remained at 
 La Varenne he should end by treating his wife and father-in- 
 law with unbecoming impertinence, he had just resolved to tell 
 them that a pressing engagement summoned him to Trouville, 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 243 
 
 when Athenais suddenly suggested calling on tlie Derblays at 
 Pont-Avesnes. Tlie proposal surprised the Duke, and at the 
 first moment it displeased him. He had gradually forgotten 
 Claire, but he remembered the ironmaster well enough. He 
 cared little or nothing for the wife, but he harboured highly 
 vindictive feelings against the husband. Why so ? it may be 
 asked. He would have been greatly embarrassed to reply. 
 Perhaps it was because Philippe had assisted Claire in publicly 
 inflicting an affront upon him. Perhaps because the iron- 
 master was just the reverse of himself. At all events he 
 instinctively disliked the man whom he still familiarly called 
 " the blacksmith." 
 
 On the other hand he felt some little curiosity as to the 
 result of this marriage which had been decided on in so 
 strange a fashion ; and after all it did not need much pressing 
 to induce him to accompany his father-in-law and his wife on 
 the occasion of their visit to the Derblays. He said to himself, 
 " My journey to Trouville will only be postponed for a day, 
 and I shall be able to show some deference to poor Claire. I 
 at least owe her that." He pitied her ; and he had indeed 
 formed a very strange idea of the life which the woman he 
 had intended to marry now led. He pictured her to himself 
 as having become narrowminded and precise, entirely absorbed 
 in business cares. A little more and he would have imagined 
 his proud cousin keeping her husband's books, with black 
 percaline sleeve-protectors on her arms. 
 
 He had only seen Pont-Avesnes in the darkness of the 
 night, and he was astonished when in the full sunlight he now 
 beheld the spacious court of honour with its elegant parterre a 
 la Franqaise, and noted the severe and imposing aspect of the 
 chateau. The servants seemed to him remarkably well 
 mannered, with nothing provincial about them. The drawing- 
 
244 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 rooms displayed themselves in all their luxurious splendour^ 
 and lie was obliged to confess to himself that M. Derblay's 
 household was mounted in first-rate style. 
 
 He felt disturbed when Claire appeared. She seemed no 
 longer the same. Not that she was more beautiful than when 
 he had known her, but she was so very different : simple and 
 grave, with an imposing gleam in her eyes which impressed 
 him. On the other hand M. Derblay was too prepossessing 
 not to displease the Duke, who for the first time noticed that 
 the ironmaster wore the ribbon of the Legion of Honour. 
 Bligny suddenly became thoughtful. He spoke but little, 
 though appropriately enough, and it was owing to this unin-. 
 tentional reserve of his that he did not on this occasion awaken 
 Philippe's suspicions. On the road back to La Yarenne the 
 Duke was remarkably taciturn ; but at dinner he proved ex- 
 ceedingly gay, talking with febrile loquacity, bantering M. 
 Moulinet in a good-humoured style, and altogether showing 
 himself the best son-in-law in the world. His apathy had 
 suddenly left him, and on the morrow he no longer thought of 
 speaking about the pressing engagement which called him to 
 Trouville. 
 
 On the contrary, he secluded himself more than ever in the 
 smoking-room, only he no longer fell asleep there. Stretched 
 on the divan, he passed his afternoons smoking a number of 
 those Oriental cigarettes which are so conducive to reverie. 
 He watched the smoke rise slowly in blue spirals towards the 
 ceiling as if he were looking for some ethereal vision in the 
 midst of the revolving circles. In the subdued light of the 
 room he fancied he could perceive the face of Claire, just as 
 he had recently seen her. He closed his eyes, and yet he saw 
 her still. 
 
 The vision disturbed him, and, to escape it, he tried outdoor 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 245 
 
 exercise. He selected the best of tlie horses which M. Mou- 
 lin et had paid such a high price for but which were worth 
 so little, had it saddled, and letting the reins fall loosely on 
 the animal's neck, he rode into the park. It was four o'clock 
 in the afternoon, and vague sounds began to pervade the 
 wood. The rabbits bounded through the underbrush, making 
 the leaves rustle, and from time to time some frightened mag- 
 pie flew screeching from the summit of a lofty oak-tree, beat- 
 ing the air with its short wings. The day had been a very 
 hot one, but now the delicious freshness of evening settled 
 over the wood. Delightful perfumes rose from the grassy 
 ground, and as the sun sank to rest on the western horizon 
 it darted golden rays through the forest foliage. The Duke 
 shook off his growing torpor and spurred his horse into a 
 gallop. Without noticing it he had passed the boundary of 
 the park, and he was now careering through the forest. Still 
 and ever the charming vision which haunted his mind seemed 
 to fly before him, impelling him onward. At last he reached 
 the edge of the cultivated plain. Beyond, he perceived a long 
 low wall, on which rested the weighty drooping branches of 
 thickset trees, with a spacious clearing, bounded by a deep 
 ditch, in their midst. The Duke mechanically turned in this 
 direction. A large expanse of grass was stretched before him, 
 and beyond it rose up a vast white pile. He started : he had 
 just recognised the chateau of Pont-Avesnes. 
 
 Thus fate brought him back to the woman whom he sought 
 to fly from. Could it be that destiny really meant to unite 
 those whom it had separated ? 
 
 Bligny began to smile. He recollected what he had said to 
 the Baron on the wedding-night : '' Since Vulcan's time black- 
 smiths have been unlucky," though, on the other hand, he 
 forgot Prefont's warning anent the blacksmith's hamaner. 
 
246 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 But, after all, fear was scarcely calculated to turn tlie Duke 
 from one of Ms fancies. He set his horse at a trot again, and 
 having taken a final decision, he returned to La Varenne with 
 his mind eased. 
 
 The Duke's new intentions were eminently calculated to 
 disturb the ironmaster's peace. Between Philippe's frigid 
 gravity and Gaston's insidious attentions Claire would find 
 herself greatly embarrassed, if not in a situation of serious 
 danger. It was evident enough that the ironmaster had an 
 afterthought when he treated Gaston with such quiet cor- 
 diality. It would have been easy for liim to have gradually 
 kept his wife's relatives at an increasing distance, and to have 
 limited the intimacy which declared itself during the first days 
 to a simple neighbourly good understanding. Philippe was 
 not easily influenced, and, as a rule, whatever he decided upon 
 was rigidly carried out. Thus if he gave way so unresistingly 
 to the insinuating amiability which the Duke and the Duchess 
 displayed, it must have been that it suited his plans to let them 
 have the run of his house. During the long hours which 
 Philippe had spent at his wife's bedside when she was in peril 
 of her life, ^e had carefully examined the many events which 
 had preceded his marriage. He realised how mercilessly 
 Athenais had revenged herseK on her rival, and he allotted 
 the Duchess her due share of responsibility. The more guilty 
 he found her, the more disposed he was to excuse Claire. Still 
 he considered it was necessary that he should not abandon the 
 rigour with which he had so far treated her. 
 
 The struggle they had engaged in must end by his victory. 
 He must expose proud Claire to some decisive trial, so as to 
 wash away for ever the undeserved affront she had inflicted 
 upon him. He foresaw that Athenais was destined to play a 
 part in this dangerous game. The battle would be fought on 
 
oil, LOVE AND PRIDE. 247- 
 
 tlie one side between tlie Duchess and Claire, on tlie other 
 between the Duke and himself. He realised that it would be 
 a bitter, desperate warfare, replete with perfidious ambus- 
 cades and redoubtable surprises. Maybe its only issue would 
 be a man's death — his own or Gaston's. Still Philippe did not 
 hesitate. After all, what had he to lose? His future was 
 compromised ; his happiness was already lost. It was to his, 
 advantage to risk the game. Only he was prudent as well as 
 resolute, and he determined to take every precaution in view of 
 assuring success. He could not ostensibly defend Claire, and 
 as it would be dangerous to leave her to her own resources, 
 he thought of providing her with a faithful ally. He 
 invited the Baronne de Prefont and her husband to come and 
 spend a few weeks at Pont-Avesnes. The respective forces 
 being thus balanced and the parties in presence of each other, 
 one had only to wait for the engagement. 
 
 Almost as soon as the Duchesse de Bligny arrived at La 
 Yarenne, it was easy to see that she intended to revolutionise 
 this quiet little provincial district. La Yarenne became the 
 joyful scene of the numerous fetes which Athenais gave by way 
 of signalising her presence. Although she was but a new- 
 comer in the district, she had the ambition of becoming its 
 imcontested sovereign, by dint of lavish display, vivacity, and 
 eccentricity. She brought two of her usual followers from 
 Paris — fat La Brede and little Du Tremblays, the two most 
 brilliant trotters of her famous "six-in-hand." "La Brede 
 and Du Tremblays," she said with a laugh, "will be quite 
 enough for the country. I'll harness them in posting fashion, 
 and with plenty of bells to jingle folks will fancy that they 
 are more numerous." 
 
 In point of fact these bosom associates were tame enough 
 when taken separately, but combined they met with surprising 
 
248 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 success. They reminded one of tlie saying tliat two negatives 
 make an affirmative. They had arrived from Paris with all 
 the necessary paraphernalia for a cotillon, lawn tennis, and 
 polo among their luggage, and, as if the demon which pos- 
 sesses the Parisians had journeyed down in one of their 
 portmanteaus, they had no sooner reached La Yarenne than 
 life became extremely " hot" and fast there. Besangon pro- 
 vided the Duchess with an orchestra of ten musicians, for 
 every Saturday there was dancing at the chateau. The young 
 bloods of the Jura learned with mingled stupefaction and 
 delight that Madame de Bligny intended to amuse the whole 
 province. Berlines and britzkas and chars-d-lancs, the most 
 singular specimens of the carriage-builder's art, often dating 
 from the times of the Eestoration, poured forth from all the 
 neighbouring chateaux and rolled with a wonderful creaking 
 of wheels along the road to La Yarenne. The ruddy-faced 
 petty nobles, whose muscles were as hard as their mountain 
 rocks, eagerly took to propelling the tennis-balls, to galloping 
 over the lawns at polo, knocking each other on the head with 
 their sticks, and to waltzing far into the night with indefa- 
 tigable vigour. 
 
 ''I say, Duchess, your provincials come of a good stock," 
 cried fat La Brede. ''They lift their dancers like feathers, 
 and never rest. I've half a mind to take a few of them to 
 Paris for the winter season ; they'd put some spirit into our 
 cotillons, and I fancy they'd be eagerly sought for in the 
 market." 
 
 ''Yes," said little Du Tremblays; " but the misfortune is, 
 that these muscular, full-blooded provincials generally don't 
 get on in Paris. After six months or so they lose their colour 
 and have less strength left than the Parisians themselves. 
 They are not a race to be acclimatised." 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 249 
 
 WHlst tlie two friends tlius gravely studied tlie rearing of 
 provincial dancers, tlie ten musicians filled the drawing-rooms 
 of La Yarenne witli harmony. Careless of other people's 
 opinions, and disdainful of criticism, the youth of BesanQon 
 danced with a fervour that made Moulinet's very heart 
 rejoice. The ex-judge of the Tribunal of Commerce became 
 radiant when he saw his daughter throw the aristocratic 
 society of his electoral district into such commotion, and in his 
 capacity as a candidate he remarked to himself, ' ' So many 
 guests, so many electors." Accordingly he urged the Duchess 
 on by opening an unlimited credit in her favour. And while 
 the wives and daughters danced, ho undertook to win the 
 fathers and husbands. One thing certainly worried him. 
 Neither the Prefect nor the General commanding Besangon 
 had showed themselves at the evening parties of La Yarenne. 
 Perhaps the representative of the Home Office found the 
 society too aristocratic. As for the commander of the troops, 
 he had just been reprimanded for having allowed the garrison 
 to present arms to the Bishop at a pubKc procession, and he 
 no doubt considered it prudent not to show his uniform in the 
 Duchess's drawing-rooms. 
 
 ''What does it matter if the Prefect doesn't come, providing 
 the people he is set over vote for you," said Athenais to 
 Moulinet, who had expressed his anxiety. ' ' Have him 
 attacked in the Courrier, papa ; have some stupid story told 
 about him. Shall I get La Brede to concoct an article ? It 
 would be rather funny. As for the General, he's a nullity; 
 his troops don't vote." 
 
 Athenais had an annoyance of her own, and a far more 
 serious one than her father's. Madame Derblay had asked to 
 be excused from attending the Saturday receptions. She 
 declared that she was not yet well enough to sit up late. 
 
250 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Now in point of fact, the Duchess had only given these fetes 
 with the view of compelling Claire to witness them, and she 
 could ill conceal the rage which her rival's absence caused 
 ner. She had fits of petulance and ill-humour which affected 
 the gaiety of those about her. She had promised herself such 
 delightful pleasure, but it was all lost since she could not 
 crush her rival with her magnificence, stab her with a thou- 
 sand daggers by appearing on the arm of the man she was 
 to have married, or see her shiver each time that she — Athe- 
 nais — was addressed as ''Madame la Duchesse." Madame 
 de Bligny's hatred would perhaps have been quieted by the 
 spectacle of Claire's humiliation, by the spectacle of the 
 tortures she endured; but it increased in the presence of 
 her resistance and at sight of the haughty calmness of her 
 brow. 
 
 Claire came on one occasion to dine at La Yarenne, and 
 conducted herself most skilfully. The petulant, imperious 
 Duchess appeared as she really was by the side of this dig- 
 nified, elegant woman — that is, as an unmannerly young 
 person, who said and did whatever came into her head with 
 the vulgar audacity of an opulent parvenu. The difference 
 between the two was at once apparent, and all the 
 advantage rested on Claire's side. Athenais divined that 
 such was the case, and swore that she would have a terrible 
 revenge. This young woman, with such glossy black hair, 
 such a charming face, such bright eyes, and such an engaging 
 smile, was in point of fact one of the most perverse beings to 
 be found on earth. If she could only have been sure of 
 impunity, she would have been quite capable of throwing 
 vitriol in Claire's face, so as to permanently disfigure her, and 
 burn out those lovely eyes so soft and pure, but in which she 
 herself read so much disdain. The Duchess was especially 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 251 
 
 irritated by the good understanding wMcli apparently pre- 
 vailed between Monsieur and Madame Derblay. The hus- 
 band sbowed himself gracious, loving, and attentive ; the wife 
 gave every token of deference and affection. There was no 
 mistaking Claire's smile when Philippe was near her and 
 gave her the protection of his presence : she loved him, and 
 no doubt she was loved in return. How could the ironmaster 
 help adoring such a perfect being, uniting in her person so 
 much physical grace and moral beauty ? And, besides, had 
 he not married her for love P^overriding all the humi- 
 liating strangeness of the situation, accepting a woman who 
 was ruined, and who had been forsaken by the Duke ? Yes, 
 he had done all that, simply and quietly, happy to be able to 
 possess her as if she were some rare and precious treasure ! 
 
 So thus it was Claire's destiny to be always loved, whilst 
 fate had decided that Athenais should never inspire a man 
 with real affection. She was courted, no doubt, but what 
 was drawing-room gallantry, flattery, and flirtation, what were 
 the passing caprices she kindled, in comparison with the 
 sincere, deep, unchangeable love which Claire had the power 
 of inspiring ? 
 
 In her jealous rage Athenais began to devote particular 
 attention to M. Derblay. "With the view of pleasing him she 
 put on a serious face, and managed to monopolise him for a 
 part of the evening. She found him really very good-looking. 
 With his brown face tanned by the sun, his black hair 
 cropped very short, and his big dark eyes, he was not unlike 
 an Arab. Athenais suddenly felt very much disturbed ; no 
 man had ever inspired her with such feelings before, and she 
 thought to herself that if she were really capable of falling in 
 love with any one it would certainly be with Philippe. At 
 the thought of the grief that she might thus cause Claire her 
 
252 THE ironmaster; 
 
 eyes brightened, and slie allowed her usual coquettisL. ten- 
 dencies full play, with a readiness and a vivacity that surprised 
 even herself. She was filled with diabolical joy when she 
 saw Claire become gloomy and restless, and watch the little 
 game she was playing with a look of anguish. Athenais 
 could read on her rival's brow how much she suffered, and 
 she realised that she had found the flaw in Claire's armour 
 which would enable her to deal a mortal blow. 
 
 In point of fact, Philippe's attitude was that of a well- 
 mannered man who finds himself flatteringly distinguished by 
 the mistress of the house. He met the Duchess's marked 
 advances w.ith perfect ease, let her take his arm to stroll 
 through the drawing-rooms, and talked to her gracefully and 
 pleasantly. He was just sufficiently attentive to seem an 
 agreeable companion, and just cold enough to prevent any 
 one from saying that he had conducted himself with the 
 Duchess differently from what he would have done with any 
 other woman. And yet, despite all his power of self-control, 
 an attentive observer would have detected that he was really 
 much upset. "Whilst the Duchess, curvetting like a young 
 peacock, took possession of him and showed him the drawing- 
 rooms and the conservatories, he had seen Bligny glide gently 
 towards Claire, lean over the back of her arm-chair, and speak 
 to her with a smile on his face. It was the first time he had 
 seen Gaston and Claire together, exchanging their thoughts 
 beyond hearing. He quivered, and a burning flush rose to 
 his brow. Tor a moment he suffered so cruelly that his arm 
 stiffened, and he involuntarily pressed the Duchess's hand to 
 his side. She looked at him -with astonishment. They were in 
 a little conservatory which M. Moulin et called ''the tropics," 
 and where numerous deadly plants of Africa and the Indies 
 -were reared in a moist heated atmosphere. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 253 
 
 ^' What is tlie matter?" asked tlie Duchess, as slie lightly 
 pressed her cavalier's arm with her fingers by way of return ; 
 and as she spoke she smiled. 
 
 " The strong scent of these plants and the heat of the con- 
 servatory have oppressed me," answered the ironmaster, who 
 was already calm again. ''Let us return to the drawing- 
 room, if agreeable to you." And, with the Duchess still on 
 his arm, he walked slowly back to the drawing-room, keeping 
 his eyes on the Duke and Claire, who were still conversing 
 together. 
 
 Immediately after dinner Gaston had taken most of his 
 masculine guests into the smoking-room, where he had placed 
 a varied collection of cigars and cigarettes at their disposal. 
 At the end of half an hour, however, he declared that he must 
 attend to his duties as a host, and abandoned the smokers to 
 themselves in the midst of a thick cloud. He was anxious 
 to approach Claire, but being acquainted with her impulsive, 
 quick-tempered character, he did not venture upon a front 
 attack. Besides, he felt ill at ease with her, and audacious as 
 he was, he hesitated to speak, for he realised that the first 
 words he addressed to her would have decisive influence on 
 their subsequent relations. Perhaps abstention would have 
 been the better policy, so as to have allowed time to consoli- 
 date the ground before venturing upon it ; but Bligny had 
 reached such a degree of cynical egotism that he could not delay 
 satisfying whatever fancy seized him. So he stepped forward, 
 talking to his friends, pausing for a short time near the dif- 
 ferent ladies who were present, and gradually lessening the 
 circle which he described round Claire, as if he had been some 
 bird- of prey. At last he found himself just behind her. He 
 took a step forward, and leaning towards her and inhaling 
 the warm perfume of her person, "Do you feel quite well 
 
254 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 to-niglit? " lie asked in a caressing voice. ''I come in trem- 
 bling to inquire after you, for I fear it is my misfortune that 
 you cannot see me without displeasure." 
 
 Claire turned quickly round and looked the Duke full in 
 the face. '^And why shoidd I see you with displeasure?" 
 she boldly asked. ''Should I have come here if I were 
 influenced by the feelings you ascribe to me." 
 
 The Duke shook his head in a melancholy manner. " This 
 is the first time since your marriage that we are able to speak 
 freely," he rejoined, " and I can see very well that we are not 
 going to tell each other the truth. Having behaved so badly 
 towards you, it will be the grief of my life not to be able to 
 explain to you the reasons which might perhaps induce you 
 to absolve me." 
 
 ''But you have no need of absolution, believe me," said 
 Claire quietly. " Have I ever reproached you? And do you 
 really think that you deserve reproaches ? Let me tell you 
 that it would be a sign of strange conceit on your part." 
 
 " You ease my conscience of a very heavyweight," rejoined 
 the Duke. " My marriage was one of the fatal consequences 
 of Parisian life. I found myself one day in such a situation 
 that I had to choose between my happiness and my honour. I 
 had two debts to pay, but in acquitting myself of one of them 
 I had to leave the other outstanding. I sacrificed my love to 
 save my name. That is what I wished to tell you, Claire." 
 
 "In other words, Monsieur Moulinet helped you out of 
 embarrassment, and in your gratitude you married his daughter 
 — ^with a dowry of several millions ! Come, Duke, that is 
 pleasant penitence, as the song says ; and besides, if I under- 
 stand you rightly, you were sustained in this trial by the con- 
 sciousness that you had done your duty. So you must be very 
 happy, and I am delighted to hear it." 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 255 
 
 The Duke started, as if stung by these ironical words. 
 "And you," lie asked abruptly, " are you happy? " 
 
 ' ' You are the very person who has no right to ask me such 
 a question," Claire answered proudly. 
 
 At the same moment the Duchess re-entered the drawing- 
 room with Philippe. The Duke jerked his head, as if to call 
 Claire's attention to Athenais, who was leaning on the iron- 
 master's arm, and seeing how pale and perturbed she became, 
 he gave her an ironical look, and exclaimed, ''You deserved 
 to have been better loved." Then, having bowed, he slowly 
 turned away. 
 
 Claire shuddered at the thought that the Duke had been 
 able to divine her secret. Thus he doubted of the happiness 
 she had endeavoured to make him believe in by dint of dis- 
 simulation. She foresaw what dangers she would be exposed 
 to if the Duke made love to her. How could she continue her 
 task of winning her husband's affection? How could she pre- 
 vent her husband from resenting the Duke's attentions ? And 
 with this dangerous assailant to contend against, how would 
 she be able to fight the Duchess, whom she already pictured 
 as subjugating Philippe with her audacious coquetry ? She 
 resolved to fly from the house, and making a sign to her 
 husband, who at once came to her, she asked him to have the 
 carriage sent for. Then, curtailing Athenais' s caressing pro- 
 testations and bowing coldly to the Duke, she led Philippe 
 from the drawing-room as precipitately as if the chateau had 
 been on fire. 
 
 When they were in their brougham, rolling along the road 
 in the clear, balmy night air, Claire fancied she was saved. 
 She did not fear to question Philippe, and turning towards 
 him, she asked, " How did you find the Duchess ? " 
 
 "Charming," answered Philippe carelessly. 
 
56 THE ironmaster; 
 
 The yoTing wife shrank hack into her corner with a gesture 
 of mortification which was hidden from her husband by the 
 darkness. The word alone had struck her ; she had not noted 
 the tone of utter indifference in which it was uttered. ''We'll 
 not go to La Yarenne again," thought Claire to herself, ''I 
 should suffer too much." 
 
 At the same moment Philippe, who was absorbed in reverie 
 saw — vision-like, as it were — the Duke leaning forward near 
 Claire, and with a perfidious smile whispering tender words 
 in her ear. The ironmaster's throat became dry, a threaten- 
 ing light gleamed from his eyes, and he clenched his strong 
 fists with very rage. 
 
 They did not go to La Yarenne again ; but a fortnight later 
 they returned the dinner they had partaken of, inviting M. 
 Moulinet, the Duke, and the Duchess to Pont-xivesnes ; after 
 which they constantly declined their neighbours' repeated 
 invitations. In her exasperation Athenai's began to con- 
 sider that there was no ''go" left in La Brede, and no 
 inventive power in Du Tremblays. It was without the least 
 pleasure that she waltzed with the gentlemen-farmers of the 
 neighbourhood. In vain did Moulinet distinguish himself 
 at the flower-show of La Yarenne, whereof he managed to 
 obtain the chairmanship, by delivering a speech which sent 
 more than half of his audience to sleep, and provoked dis- 
 creet merriment among everybody else. There were fire- 
 works, a joust with lances on the river, and a solemn crowning 
 of rosihes,'^ the whole enlivened with the sonorous strains of 
 a Besangon society of musicians called "La Lyre." The 
 gay, noisy, tiring life which Athenais usually appreciated 
 so much was still led ; but now nothing could satisfy her. 
 
 * Young girls who are rewarded for their virtue and good conduct 
 with crowns of honour and modest marriage portions. — Trans. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 257 
 
 Madame Derblay was not there to be crusted by the sight of 
 her triumphs. 
 
 The old Marchioness, perched on the heights of Beaulieu 
 like a lonely, forlorn turtle-dove, had not once set her feet in 
 the abode of her niece by marriage. People were, moreover, 
 beginning to remark the continued absence of M. and Madame 
 Derblay. Considerable tittle-tattle was indulged in, and when 
 the Baronne de Prefont, who possessed such a long tongue, 
 arrived at Claire's residence, Athenais foresaw that the neigh- 
 bours would soon begin to believe that La Yarenne and Pont- 
 Avesnes had quarrelled. The ice, which was accumulating 
 in threatening blocks between the two households, must be 
 broken at any cost ; and the only thing that could draw them 
 in a measure together again was some general entertain- 
 ment, some almost public gathering, to which all the good 
 society of the neighbourhood would be invited. 
 
 It was La Brede who, like all inspired men, unintentionally 
 furnished the Duchess with the occasion she was longing for. 
 He suggested a mounted paper-chase through the woods of 
 La Yarenne and Pont-Avesnes. The civil and military autho- 
 rities should be asked to attend. The officers of the garrison 
 of Besanqon would receive invitations, and everybody would 
 follow the hunt on horseback or in carriages as they pleased. 
 A monster lunch would be provided at the Pond-Point des 
 Etangs ; in one word, the whole affair would be such a fete 
 that even the newspapers of Paris would talk about it. 
 
 The scheme was worthy of a man of genius, and in her 
 delight Athenais almost embraced La Brede. Setting the 
 whole household to work tearing up bits of paper, and bid- 
 ding her father attend to the general invitations, the Duchess 
 betook herself in person to Pont-Avesnes, whence she returned 
 with a radiant face, for she had obtained a favourable reply. 
 
XIY. 
 
 The Eond-Point des Etangs lies at the edge of tlie woods of 
 Pont-Avesnes and of those of La Yarenne. A succession of 
 meres, full of rushes and waterplants, with large leaves and 
 shiny stems, which stretch over the surface of the water like 
 serpents asleep, extends for five or six hundred yards around, 
 and has given the spot its name. The lower branches of the 
 oak-trees droop as if thirsting for the freshness of the water, 
 and the leaves which have fallen each autumn, decajdng and 
 rotting on the banks, have formed a thick slime wherein the 
 wild-boars roll with delight at early morning. A high pali- 
 sade, painted white, and shutting off the forest roads in ordi- 
 nary times, encloses an open space some two hundred yards 
 across, which is covered with grass as soft as velvet. Huge 
 beech-trees with thick foliage rise up round about and cast 
 their refreshing shade over the grass. Here meet eight roads 
 edged with ruddy heather, each more than twenty yards 
 broad, and extending in a straight line as far as the eye can 
 reach through the woods. It is a spot full of silence and 
 mystery. The sun plays over the water which, though it be 
 somewhat ruj09.ed by the breeze, serves as a mirror for the 
 tranquil azure sky. On occasions of forest sport the site is 
 excellent. Tired by the pursuit of the dogs, the deer come 
 here to bathe their quivering limbs in the meres and imbibe 
 fresh vigour. A skiKul marksman, stationed on the bank 
 behind one of the oaks, can readily find the coveted opportu- 
 
THE ironmaster; or, love and pride. 259 
 
 nity for crjdng, " Hallali ! " * Sad to say, however, M. 
 Moulinet was such a passionate admirer of nature that, im- 
 l^ressed by the beauty of the site, he dishonoured it by erecting 
 there a Chinese kiosk. 
 
 In the midst of the open space behold now a series of 
 tables where footmen in full livery serve, and which are spread 
 with every delectable dainty likely to stimulate the Duchess's 
 guests for their long ride. For an hour or so La Brede, 
 coupled with his faithful Du Tremblays, has been making 
 way through the underwood, scattering scraps of paper to 
 indicate the scent, extending his advance, constantly changing 
 his direction, and preparing any number of false scents in the 
 most conscientious and fatiguing manner. Cavaliers and 
 dames and damsels on horseback, with breaks and caleches 
 full of people, are arriving by all the roads conducting to the 
 Eond-Point. The light toilettes of the ladies, who shade them- 
 selves with many-coloured parasols, the blue dolmans and the 
 red trousers of the hussar officers from Besangon, stand out 
 gaily against the dark foliage of the trees. The horses held 
 by the green-coated keepers greedily stretch their necks 
 towards the fresh grass ; the stirrups clink as they strike 
 against each other whenever the horses move ; a clear neigh 
 bursts forth from time to time, and the champagne corks pop 
 gaily as the foam falls into the glasses. 
 
 Attired in a tight-bodied, short- skirted habit, and waving 
 her riding- whip, the knob of which was adorned with a huge 
 cat's-eye, in her gloved hand, Athenais was doing the honours 
 of the forest to every new arrival with surprising gaiety, ease, 
 and grace. The cushions of the Duke's mail-coach had been 
 laid on the grassy banks, and here sat many of the ladies. 
 
 * The French, hunting shout, whereby the death of the stag is an- 
 nounced. — Trans. 
 
260 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Moulinet, wlio was arrayed in a blue dress coat and pearl grey 
 gloves, although, it was only ten o'clock in the morning, was 
 monopoKsing the Baron de Prefont, for whom he seemed to 
 have conceived a most tyrannical affection. The Duke wore 
 the English scarlet hunting coat, with buckskins and a 
 black velvet cap adorned with a green bow — his colours, the 
 field of his escutcheon being sinople. Philippe, as usual, wore 
 a black coat, but he had donned a pair of grey velveteen 
 breeches with leggings of the same tint. Claire and the 
 Baroness were both attired in riding-habits of blue cloth, with 
 felt hats adorned with black feathers, and they looked particu- 
 larly charming — Madame de Prefont elegant, if somewhat 
 short, and Claire tall and superb, with the outlines of her 
 finely curved shoulders and perfect bust showing to great 
 advantage ; Suzanne, whom Octave had served, was dipping 
 a biscuit into a glass of Malaga and watching her mare, which 
 her brother was paternally attending to, tightening the girth 
 and examining the bit ; whilst Bachelin, having quietly 
 unharnessed his horse, which served both for driving and 
 riding purposes, was assisting his own keeper in fastening the 
 saddle, which he had brought with him in his gig. The sun 
 gilded* the forest foliage and cast dazzling lustre upon the 
 brilliant scene. The atmosphere was light and fresh. It was 
 the kind of weather that makes life enjoyable. 
 
 '' Monsieur Derblay ! " suddenly cried Athenais, turning 
 away from the much- desired Prefect, with whom she had been 
 talking ; and as Philippe quietly approached her, without in 
 the least degree hurrying himself, she added, '^ Don't you 
 think it is time to start. Messieurs La Brede and Du 
 Tremblays went off at least an hour ago with their scraps of 
 paper, and if they have kept up a good pace, we shall need a 
 hard gallop to catch them." 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 261 
 
 '' Mon Dieu, Madame," answered Philippe, '' I must own to 
 you tliat I am but little acquainted with the rules of paper- 
 chasing. I would rather not give an opinion. You would do 
 better to apply to Pontac, who, as a master of wolfhounds, is 
 no doubt well informed on the matter." 
 
 As he spoke, Philippe pointed out a tall young man, clad in 
 a silver-braided hunting coat, with a three-cornered hat on his 
 head, a dirk at his side, and a Dampierre horn over his 
 shoulder. As if he had been only waiting for an opportunity 
 to bring himself into notice, the Vicomte de Pontac at once 
 advanced into the centre of the open space, and, bowing 
 to Madame de Bligny with English-like stiffness, '^ Duchess," 
 he said, " I am at your orders ; and if you will grant me the 
 management of the hunt, I will engage to finish with Mes- 
 sieurs La Brede and Du Tremblays before a couple of hours 
 are over. Shall we sound to the saddle ? I have my piqueur 
 there Here ! here ! Bistocq! " 
 
 A big fellow in a braided coat and brown leather gaiters, 
 with, a red nose which was as conspicuous on his tanned face 
 as a strawberry on dark soil, emerged from a group of servants, 
 shambling over the ground and dragging after him a big, 
 badly groomed, vicious-looking roan, whose bridle was passed 
 over his arm. On arriving at half-a-dozen paces from M. de 
 Pontac he stopped short, drew himself up in military fashion, 
 saluted by raising bis band to the peak of his cap, and waited 
 to be asked for his report. 
 
 '' Do you wisb to question him ? " asked the Vicomte turn- 
 ing to the Duchess. 
 
 " Of course I do," replied Athena'is, who was delighted with 
 the solemnity of the scene. 
 
 *' I say, dear, " murmured the Baronne de Prefont to Claire, 
 * ' just look at ber. She gives berself tbe airs of a queen ! And 
 
262 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 Pontac plays liis part as if it were all serious, thougli we are only 
 going to follow a lot of scraps of paper. It's really amusing." 
 
 In tlie meantime Bistocq was giving his report. '^ The start 
 will take place at the Heronniere," said he. ''That's where 
 the scent begins. There's a hit of paper there as large as my 
 hand. "We shan't need any ' find ! ' The gentlemen are no 
 doubt afraid they won't be found easily enough. They might 
 have left a whole newspaper while they were about it. The 
 animals — I beg pardon, the gentlemen — went off straight 
 through the wood, jumped the Pave ISTeuf, took to the plain 
 at the Yente-au-Sergent, came back into the forest at Belle- 
 Empleuse, struck fresh ground at the foot of the hill of La 
 Haie, started a false scent at La Boulottiere " 
 
 ''Halt!" cried M. de Pontac with a laugh. "If we let 
 you go on, you will give us the whole line of route from be- 
 ginning to end." 
 
 "Perhaps I might," replied the piqueur with a knowing 
 wink. " It isn't so easy for human beings to imitate stags 
 except in a respect I won't mention." 
 
 The Duchess smiled and turned to Pontac. " He's a funny 
 fellow that man of yours," said she. " Papa, give this good 
 fellow a louis. Thanks to him, La Brede and Du Tremblays 
 will have to cover a good deal of ground if they don't want to 
 be speedily caught." 
 
 " Death on the run ! " said Pontac. " Duchess, shall I 
 sound the start ? " 
 
 " Yes, please, Yicomte." 
 
 Pontac turned his horn round with his left hand so as to 
 have the mouthpiece placed conveniently,' stationed himself in 
 the centre of the clearing, and pufiing out his cheeks as if he 
 wished to blow down all the trees in the forest, proceeded to 
 awaken every echo with his deafening strains. 
 
OR, LOVE AXD PRIDE. 263 
 
 "My compliments, Yicomte," said tlie Duchess. ''You 
 possess a remarkable talent " 
 
 ''It is hereditary in my family," replied Pontac with, 
 ■dreamy gravity. "From father to son, for the last three 
 centuries, we have all known how to play on the horn." And 
 jerking his head as if he considered himself a superior being, 
 the Yicomte walked towards his horse. 
 
 In a moment the whole gathering was in motion. The 
 riders set their feet in the stirrups, while the sightseers who 
 meant to follow in vehicles installed themselves on their 
 cushions. A general impulse led the great mass of the throng 
 to make at once for the wide avenues near the Heronniere. 
 The horses started at a gallop, and the dull thuds of their hoofs 
 over the moss and turf were already becoming more distant, 
 like the triumphant horn-tooting which Bistocq indulged in as 
 he guided the hunters with his big bony horse at a fast trot. 
 
 "Monsieur Derblay," said the Duchess with a smile, "as 
 you know the district so well, would you be kind enough to 
 be my guide ? Let us allow the crowd to go on in front. You 
 have a strong horse, and I also ; we can cut through the forest 
 and gain an advance." 
 
 " But, Duchess, haven't you Pontac, who would be able to 
 ■escort you much better than I could ? " replied Philippe. 
 
 " No, no," rejoined Madame de Bligny gaily. " You're the 
 guide I want, unless you refuse to accompany me. But I 
 don't think you capable of doing so." 
 
 The ironmaster bowed without replying. Claire, who was 
 standing a few paces off, quivered with anger as she witnessed 
 Athenais's audacity. Tears of anguish started to her eyes, 
 and she convulsively pressed the arm of the stupefied Baroness. 
 
 " You wiU come with us, won't you ? " asked the Duchess, 
 turning towards Claire. 
 
264 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Madame Derblay gently lowered Ler head, and in a calm 
 voice replied, '' No, I presumed too mucli on my strength in 
 thinking of following the hunt on horsehack. I shall go with 
 
 the carriage " And at the same time Claire gave her 
 
 husband a beseeching look, as if to induce him to remain 
 with her. 
 
 " Shall you be displeased by my carrying your husband 
 off ?" asked Athenais with feigned solicitude. And then with 
 a laugh she added, " Do you happen to be jealous, dear ? " 
 
 ''No," replied Claire, who was unwilling to acknowledge 
 her grief and her helplessness so openly. 
 
 " Then to horse ! " joyously cried Athenais, who was eager 
 to complete her victory. 
 
 With a pang at her heart Claire watched her husband turn 
 away, and at one moment she thought of calling to him and 
 retaining him. " Philippe ! " she cried. 
 
 The ironmaster at once turned round and came towards 
 her. ''What is the matter?" he asked. "Don't you feel 
 well ? Is there anything you wish for ? " 
 
 No doubt, if the young wife had only spoken a single 
 word, her husband would have remained with her, and 
 perhaps many torments might thus have been spared them 
 both. But Claire's pride, still stronger than her love, re- 
 pressed the words of entreaty which were rising to her lips. 
 She shook her head, and with a stern air, twitching lips, and 
 a gesture of disdain, replied: "No. There is nothing the 
 matter with me. I need nothing. You can go ! " 
 
 Philippe turned away. At this moment Claire included 
 him in the surging hatred she felt for Athenais. She was 
 seized with one of those fits of rage which impel human 
 beings to murder. 
 
 Setting her foot on the bank of the ditch, the Duchess had 
 
OR, LOVE AXD PRIDE. 265 
 
 raised her skirt so that her dainty boot was fully visible. 
 Making a sign to M. Derblay, she showed him that her spur- 
 strap had become unfastened. The ironmaster bent forward, 
 and without a word re-affixed the leather strap garnished 
 with little silver chains, and buckled it near the heel. As the 
 Duchess leant upon him, she touched his shoulder with the 
 knob of her riding- whip in a bold, provoking manner, as if to 
 indicate that he belonged to her. 
 
 " Dear me, what does this mean ? " muttered the Baroness. 
 But on glancing at Claire, she saw her trembling so acutely 
 and looking so pale that she did not dare to follow up her 
 question. 
 
 With the assistance of Philippe's strong arms the Duchess 
 sprang into her saddle. She caught up the reins, waved her 
 hand proudly to her discomfited rival, and starting her horse 
 at a gallop, made him leap the ditch which separated the 
 clearing from the wood. Philippe followed, and a moment 
 later they disappeared in the depths of the forest. 
 
 " Shall I remain with you? " murmured a soft voice near 
 Claire, who stood rooted to the spot, overwhelmed as it were, 
 as she gazed after the two riders until they vanished like her 
 happiness. But on hearing these words she swiftly turned 
 her head and found the Duke behind her. She stifled a cry of 
 anger, and tearing off her gloves, " Leave me," said she, with 
 a heavy brow and lowered eyes. ' 'I wish to be alone." Then 
 taking the Baroness's arm, she walked towards the meres, 
 whilst the Duke turned his horse in the direction of the main 
 body of his guests, being guided by the notes of the horn 
 which resounded in the distance. 
 
 Careless of the chase. Octave and Suzanne were conversing 
 as they strolled along the green bank of one of the meres. 
 Their horses, tethered to the same tree, rubbed their necks 
 
266 THE IRONMASTER ; ^ 
 
 together in sympathising fashion, or tugged as well as their 
 bits would allow them at the young green shoots. The Baron, 
 abandoned to himself, had sat down in a secluded corner, and 
 with a little hammer was breaking some mineralogical speci- 
 mens he had picked up. 
 
 Meanwhile the Baroness and Claire reached M. Moulinet's 
 Chinese kiosk, and sat down on one of the benches in front 
 of it without exchanging a word. After all the noise and 
 motion deep silence was now spreading through the wood. A 
 light breeze shook the reeds, among which the dragon-flies 
 scintillated as they passed and repassed in their uncertain 
 flight. The Baroness raised her eyes and looked at her 
 friend. Claire had recovered her self-possession, and such 
 nervousness as remained was only indicated by a slight trem- 
 bling of her lips. Fearing, however, that the sad truth had 
 been divined by the Baroness, she had lowered her head and 
 averted her eyes, and she sat there stirring the gravel with 
 her foot, and striving to assume an air of indifference. 
 
 " Well ! What does all this mean ? " exclaimed Sophie, who 
 was unable to restrain herself any longer. " I arrive at your 
 house expecting to find biblical tranquillity, and I tumble 
 into the midst of discussions and worries. Your husband 
 gallops off with Athenais, and the Duke comes and humbly 
 offers to keep you company " 
 
 ''It's like in a quadrille," said Claire, with a nervous 
 laugh. " There is a change of partners." 
 
 The Baroness became grave, and taking hold of her cousin's 
 hand, ''Why do you try to deceive me?" she asked. "Do 
 you think that I am so frivolous that I can't understand what 
 is passing in your mind ? Claire, you are not happy." 
 
 "I? Why, how can I help being happy? I live in the 
 midst of luxury, noise, and animation. I have relatives who 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 267 
 
 dearly love me, friends wlio surround me, a husband who 
 leaves me my liberty. You know that this is what I dreamt 
 of. So how can I be unhappy ? " 
 
 ' ' Ah, my dear, what you used to dream of now drives you 
 to despair. Your husband leaves you your liberty, but he 
 takes his own. And when you see him near anyone else, 
 there is a pang at your heart. With your pride, you would 
 like to deny it, but your grief betrays you. 'No, you are not 
 happy ; and you can't be happy, for you are jealous." 
 
 '' I ! " cried Claire in a tone of rage ; and she burst into a 
 painfully nervous laugh, which ended in a sob. Her eyes 
 filled with tears, and, as her face flushed with shame, she 
 threw herself into her friend's arms and wept most bitterly. 
 
 The Baroness let her ease her heart, which was so full of 
 grief, but when she grew calmer, she wrung from her the sad 
 secret of her rupture with Philippe. Madame de Prefont 
 was stupefied. She realised how cruelly Claire was tortured, 
 and she suspected as much concerning the ironmaster. She 
 divined the horrible contrast which existed between their 
 public and their private life. In presence of society a dis- 
 play, a semblance of gaiety and love ; and then when there 
 was no one to watch, silence, coldness, and solitude. These 
 unfortunate beings played a part in public, and they were 
 obliged to play it well. On thus becoming acquainted with 
 the situation the Baroness had but one thought — that of 
 trying to reconcile this husband and this wife who were so 
 sadly estranged. First of all she was desirous of finding out 
 everything that Claire had on her mind. 
 
 " But when your husband nursed you with such devotion," 
 said she, " didn't you ever think of going to him and trying 
 to unite the severed ties again ?" 
 
 ''Yes," answered Claire with a blush. ''I don't know 
 
268 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 what was passing in me, but I no longer felt the same. Was 
 it gratitude for his devotion, or a better appreciation of his 
 character, that drew me to him ? At all events, when he was 
 not there I involuntarily looked for him. When he was near 
 me I did not raise my eyes to his face, and yet I saw him. 
 He seemed so stern, so sad, that I did not dare speak to him. 
 Oh ! if he had only encouraged me ! " 
 
 "And didn't he?"' 
 
 ''No; he is as proud as I am, and more reeolute. Ah! 
 There is nothing to hope for, and we are separated for ever." 
 
 ''At all events, as far as I see, he doesn't seem to worry 
 himself ; and our charming little Duchesse Moulinet " 
 
 "Oh! don't accuse Philippe," Claire interrupted hastily; 
 "it is she who impudently throws herself at his head. She 
 pursues me without relaxing. After my betrothed, my hus- 
 band ! What a triumph, is it not ? And how can I tear him 
 from her ? What can I do to defend myself ? Have I a right 
 to do anything ? Is he really mine ? " 
 
 " Well, frankly, he's rather more yours than hers." 
 
 " Oh, let her take care ! " exclaimed Claire in a violent tone. 
 "I have suffered too much fyom her already. The longest 
 patience has its limits; and if she drives me beyond these 
 I don't know what I shall do, but it will be some act of mad- 
 ness which will prove the ruin of one or the other of us." 
 
 "Come, my dear, calm yourself. Now that I'm here to 
 assist you, I promise you we'll master that delightful Athe- 
 na'is. She's a monopoliser, you see ; it runs in the family. 
 Her father used to lay his hands on all the sugar in the 
 market, and her specialty seems to be husbands. She wants 
 them all. Ah, how I should like to see her take it into her 
 head to fascinate the Baron ; how I should amuse myself ! " 
 
 So saying, the Baroness called Claire's attention to M. de 
 
OR, LOVE AND PKIDE. 269 
 
 Prefont, who was still at tlie same spot, delightfully employing 
 the hours of waiting for the hunting party's return in picking 
 up little stones and filling his pockets with them. Claire 
 could not help smiling. A vision of Philippe passed before 
 her eyes. Ah, he was no docile and patient retainer like the 
 Baron, but an imperious and redoubtable master. 
 
 *'We mustn't deceive ourselves," resumed the Baroness; 
 " the situation is a serious one. If there could be an expla- 
 nation, reconciliation would conie easily enough ; but by 
 speaking you expose yourself to an unfavourable reception, 
 and then good-night, there's no more hope ; so we must pro- 
 ceed diplomatically. However, nothing will rid me of the 
 idea that your husband adores you, but won't let you see it. 
 Men like him only love once, and then for all their life. Have 
 you ever looked at Monsieur Derblay attentively ? I am sure 
 that his nature is an obstinate one. He has a head to batter 
 a wall with. With such a character as that you can only 
 disarm him by humiliating yourself." 
 
 '' Ah ! I sha'n't hesitate to do so. I shall spare no effort to 
 win him. But perhaps he would only look on my overtures 
 as some fresh fancy? " 
 
 ''Por that very reason you must wait for a favourable 
 opportunity before venturing to risk such an important engage- 
 ment. If no opportunity shows itself, we'll devise one. But, 
 for Heaven's sake, don't look so mournful and despairing. 
 Our dear friend Athenais would only be too glad to see you 
 looking like that. Eecollect that other people consider you 
 happy, so put on a semblance of happiness till you secure it 
 in reality." 
 
 Claire heaved a sigh. She who was once so indomitable, 
 who so flattered herself that she could overcome every obstacle, 
 now doubted her power of will and strength of mind. 
 
270 THE ironmaster; 
 
 **It seems to me that we have been talking very seriously 
 during the last half hour," said the Baroness. " This conjugal 
 psychology has made my head feel heavy. If you are willing, 
 we will have a little gallop ; it will do us good. And besides, 
 I should like to see what our lovely Duchesse Moulinet is 
 doing with your husband. "Will you come ? " 
 
 ''No," answered Claire gloomily. '' I feel weary. I shall 
 stay here. My brother and Suzanne don't seem any more dis- 
 posed than myself to follow the hunt. They will keep me 
 company." 
 
 Octave and Mademoiselle Derblay were now slowly returning 
 together. They were no longer talking to each other. The 
 Marquis seemed somewhat more serious than usual. Suzanne 
 was looking down and smiling, as it were, to happy thoughts. 
 At last they reached the spot where their horses were tethered. 
 The young man detached the bridles, and turning to Suzanne 
 asked, " You will allow me to tell my sister ? " 
 
 Suzanne nodded her head in token of assent and said, " Tell 
 her, I wish it. You know how much she loves us. She will 
 be joyful." 
 
 ''WeU, go with the Baron and the Baroness, and I will 
 stay with Claire and tell her our secret." 
 
 Then presenting his hands crossed, so that Suzanne might 
 poise her tiny foot upon them, he speedily put her into 
 the saddle. The young girl raised her eyes and gave 
 Octave a rather longer look than was necessary perhaps, and 
 exchanged a shake of the hand with him, in which she 
 expressed all that she dared not say. Then touching her 
 mare with her whip, she reached the centre of the clearing at 
 one bound. 
 
 The hunting-horn resounded through the forest, coming 
 nearer and nearer, and lending wings to La Brede and Du 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 271 
 
 Tremblays. '^ Come, Baron, to horse ! " said Madame de 
 Prefont to lier husband. 
 
 " I'm at your orders, my dear," replied the amiable man of 
 science, tearing himself away from the contemplation of his 
 mineralogical specimens. ''It's very curious," he added. '' Do 
 you know, I shouldn't be astonished if these rocks contained 
 alum. I must speak on the subject to Monsieur Derblay. One 
 might, perhaps, start a competition to the alum-beds of Italy — 
 you know, near Civita Yecchia. I showed them to you during 
 our wedding tour. It would be a first-rate affair, and a good 
 business could be done in sulphates with the papermakers." 
 
 ''Yes, Baron, yes," said Madame de Prefont, suddenly 
 softening. " You are an angel, you are ! And what is more, 
 a learned angel. Come, kiss my hand." 
 
 "With pleasure," said the Baron, in nowise departing 
 from his bland tranquillity, and he raised his wife's daintily 
 gloved hand to his lips. 
 
 The Baroness glanced round her, made her horse paw the 
 ground, and waved her hand to Claire and Octave; then, 
 turning to Suzanne, she asked, "You are ready? Yes ? Then 
 start!" And followed by her husband and the young girl, 
 she went off at a full gallop. 
 
 Octave and Claire watched the trio as they rode away. 
 There was a moment's silence. The young man was solemn, 
 and seemed somewhat oppressed by emotion, as if he had 
 some very serious revelation to make. On her side the young 
 wife was thinking of what the Baroness had told her, and 
 was weighing, with vague anxiety, the chances she had of 
 succeeding in her difiicult enterprise. Her brother's voice at 
 last roused her from her meditation. 
 
 " Claire," said he, " I have some great news to tell you." 
 And as his sister made a gesture of surprise, and looked at 
 
272 THE ironmaster; 
 
 him questioningly, lie added in an undertone, " "We love each 
 other, Suzanne and I." 
 
 Claire's sad facfe brightened np like a stormy sky suddenly 
 traversed by a ray of sunlight. She held both hands out 
 towards her brother, and drawing him quickly towards her 
 made him sit down at her side. Her nerves were delightfully 
 agitated, her heart dilated ; she longed to learn everything, 
 and it seemed to her as if a favourable occasion for a recon- 
 ciliation with Philippe might now present itseK. Then, in 
 the stillness. Octave rapturously told her the simple and yet 
 already long story of two hearts which had gradually taken 
 possession of each other — candid and truthful love, full of pure 
 delights, which had come gently into being without an effort, 
 without a throe, like a beautiful flower under the blue sky. 
 
 ''You have so much influence over Philippe," said the 
 Marquis to his sister. " Speak to him for me, and obtain his 
 consent. He has long been well acquainted with my ideas. 
 He knows that I count the advantages of birth for nothing, 
 and that I wish to make my position myself. And be 
 eloquent and strive to convince him, for jom have my happi- 
 ness in your hands." 
 
 Claire had suddenly become very grave again. Alas ! she 
 did not possess the influence which her brother attributed to 
 her. Never, since that fatal night, the starting-point of so 
 much grief, had she exchanged a single serious word with 
 Philippe. At Pont-Avesnes they only saw each other at 
 mealtimes, and in presence of thaservants they talked but little, 
 and merely on indifferent subjects. And yet now, without 
 preparation and encouragement, she must lay this weighty 
 matter, before her husband. Still she didn't hesitate ; all her 
 old confidence had come back to her. She seemed to have a 
 presentiment of victory. 
 
on, LOVE AND PRIDE. 273 
 
 Claire's silence, however, had already made the Marquis 
 feel anxious, for like all lovers he was prompt in espying 
 difficulties. " At least you don't refuse to plead my cause ? " 
 said he. 
 
 '' Certainly not," replied his sister with a smile, ''and be 
 at ease ; I will plead it as if it were my own." 
 
 ''Oh, how I thank you!" cried Octave; and taking his 
 sister by the shoulders he kissed her tenderly. 
 
 "Is that my honorarium?" said she, with a gaiety she 
 had not shown for a whole year. " One can see that you are 
 confident; you pay in advance. Come, go in search of her, now 
 that you have confessed your crime. You know that I don' 
 fear solitude ; and besides, I need to reflect over all that you 
 have told me." 
 
 The Marquis was already hastening towards his horse. He 
 vaulted into the saddle, and kissing his hand to Claire, who 
 was looking at him with a smile, he started off with all the 
 impetuosity of a man who knows that the girl he loves is at 
 the end of the road. 
 
XY. 
 
 Left to herseK, Claire forgot where site was, what was 
 passing around her, and began to think. A distant hum rose 
 from the forest, mingled with the notes of the horn, which was 
 now sounding ''full cry," and in the direction of the paved 
 highway a loud rumble of vehicles could be heard. But the 
 yoimg wife was blind and deaf to everything unconnected 
 with Philippe. She took a bitter pleasure in picturing to 
 herself her life as it might have been. She dived back into 
 the past, and counted the days of happiness which she had 
 voluntarily deprived herself of. Far now from the fatal 
 epoch when she had wrecked her life, she could hardly under- 
 stand the feelings which had then swayed her. She could 
 not comprehend the delirium of pride to which she had been 
 a prey. Her all-absorbing preoccupation had been that her 
 wedding should at any cost take place before the Duke's, but 
 now it seemed to her so petty and trivial that she positively 
 blushed for it. Was it possible that she had risked her whole 
 existence for the sake of yielding to such a vulgar impulse ? 
 She said to herself that Philippe, although most outrageously 
 treated, could not show himself inexorable for ever. And yet 
 his stern and haughty profile was still before her eyes, and 
 she could hear him saying, " One day you will learn the truth. 
 You will discover that you have been even more unjust than 
 cruel. But though you may drag yourself at my feet, im- 
 
THE ironmaster; or, love and pride. 275 
 
 ploring forgiveness, I shall not have a word of pity for you." 
 But was it not anger that had dictated this terrible resolution ? 
 Was he a man to cling to it without ever wavering ? She 
 saw him again, with his brow resting on his hands, as if he 
 were crushed with grief, and then rising up and showing her 
 his face, down which the tears were streaming. He had cer- 
 tainly loved her, and on that fatal night he would have given 
 his life for a word of hope or a tender look. But eight months 
 had since elapsed, and maybe all his love had oozed forth 
 and utterly flowed away through the wound she had inflicted 
 on him. 
 
 With the tip of her foot Claire listlessly stirred the gravel. 
 ^' When a man has deeply loved," said she aloud, as if she 
 wished to submit the question which disturbed her to the 
 woods, the wind, and space — '* when a man has loved as he 
 loved me can he ever forget ? " 
 
 ''No, a man never forgets when he has deeply loved," 
 replied a mocking voice which seemed to descend from above. 
 Claire sprang to her feet at once, and on raising her head 
 she perceived the Duke, who had entered the kiosk a 
 moment previously, and now stood leaning over the balus- 
 trade, looking at her with a smile on his face. ''You will 
 agree that I have arrived appropriately enough to answer 
 you," he gaily remarked. "But come, were you thinking 
 of me?" 
 
 Claire looked at him through her half-closed eyelids with 
 an air of superb contempt. "Indeed, no," she replied. 
 
 " So much the worse, then, for me." 
 
 "And you?" asked the young wife. "What are you 
 seeking for here ? " 
 
 The Duke came down the steps and approached her. "I 
 was seeking for you," he answered with a bow. 
 
276 THE ironmaster; 
 
 " And why so, pray ? " 
 
 *' Because I wished to speak to you frankly. You gave me 
 a bad reception when I offered you my company an hour ago. 
 But I thought you might perhaps have become more sociable. 
 So here I am. Are you in a humour to answer me ? " 
 
 ''But, my dear Duke, I don't think we have anything to 
 say to each other ? " 
 
 " Are you really sure of it ? I am sorry to see that you 
 are such an adept in practising dissimulation. You have a 
 great many things to grieve you, and you won't admit it." 
 
 Claire shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. ''And I," said 
 she, "see that your faculties are clearly on the wane. You 
 are always returning to the same subject with a lachrymose 
 air, which is really painful to witness. Set your soft heart at 
 ease. I have no grief, and I am not at all disposed to worry 
 myself to please you." 
 
 "Maybe," rejoined the Duke, with seeming simplicity. 
 " I shall be delighted to learn I have been so mistaken in my 
 surmises, and yet they appeared to me to be correct. How- 
 ever, as you say, I must have lost some of my intellectual 
 lucidity. This morning it seemed to me that you weie nervous 
 and disturbed. This paper-chase was very attractive, but you 
 would not take any part in it. You spent your time in watch- 
 ing your husband." 
 
 " W'ell? " asked Claire, as she repressed a gesture of irri- 
 tation. 
 
 "Well," continued the Duke, "the singular thing is that 
 Monsieur Derblay didn't seem to pay any attention to you. 
 He busied himseK with the Duchess, who had chosen him as 
 her cavaliere servente, and on your side, instead of looking 
 pleased when he discharged his duties gallantly, you kept on 
 giving him crushing glances." 
 
OR, LOVE AND PllIDE. 277 
 
 ''And what did you conclude from that?" asked Claire 
 ■coldly. 
 
 '' Why, I concluded that the good understanding which you 
 told me prevailed between him and you did not really exist. 
 I concluded that he did not rightly value the treasure which 
 chance, or rather my ill-luck, has given him. And then — 
 what shall I say ? — a thousand little things, which I had for- 
 gotten, returned to my mind. I remembered how strange you 
 looked on your wedding-day. I thought of your sadness 
 and analyzed your anger, and having weighed the pros and 
 the cons I came to this conclusion, that despite all you say 
 to the contrary, you are really not so happy as you deserve 
 to be." 
 
 The attack was sudden and direct. In a moment the Duke 
 had turned the defensive works which Claire had raised so 
 patiently. He audaciously let her understand that, like a 
 fortress which can expect no succour from outside, she must 
 resign herseK to a regular siege. The young wife disdained 
 to make an effort at retreat. In fact she sallied forth to th-e 
 battle, and with unrestrained bitterness replied, '' And so 
 you, with your gen'erous commiserating heart, you thought 
 that the moment was perhaps a favourable one to offer me 
 some consolation." 
 
 The Duke had too mjich experience of this kind of war- 
 fare to take up the position which Claire so boldly offered 
 him ; at least for the present. His cause would have been 
 irrevocably lost if he had at once acknowledged that she was 
 right in her surmises. He wished it to seem rather as if he 
 were impelled by an earnest, serious feeling, and so, setting 
 aside the bantering tone in which he had hitherto spoken, 
 ''You judge me wrongly, Claire," he said with assumed 
 sadness. " Believe me when I tell you that I have done all 
 
278 THE ironmaster; 
 
 in my power to forget you. When I arrived here I thought 
 I loved you no longer. I thought I should be able to see you 
 again without the least danger for my heart. I was told that 
 you were happy and I rejoiced to hear it. Ah! madman 
 that I was ! I thought my heart dried up and dead after so 
 many trials and deceptions ; but to my bitter grief I felt it 
 revive and palpitate again. When I saw you, you looked, 
 alas ! so very careworn — despite all your efforts to conceal 
 your worry and sadness. But then your face cannot 
 hide anything from me. Had you been happy I should 
 merely have adored you from afar, and no word of mine 
 should have ever disturbed your peace. But you suffered. 
 Ah ! when I saw that, I was no longer my own master. An 
 irresistible power seemed to impel me towards you, and I 
 realised that only one woman existed on earth for me — your- 
 self." 
 
 Claire listened with astonishment to these passionate words. 
 Not a fibre of her heart throbbed. Was this man, who spoke 
 to her so tenderly, really the same one she had loved to 
 madness? His voice, which once had made her palpitate with 
 passion, now left her cold and somewhat irritated. She saw 
 that he was one of those skiKul actors who disturb the minds 
 and trouble the senses of women, whose natures are deficient 
 in equilibrium. She did not for a moment imagine that he 
 was sincere. She looked upon his attack rather as some low 
 desire to gratify a sudden fancy. 
 
 " Do you know that you are not wanting in impudence ? " 
 she said bitterly. ''When you had to choose between a 
 woman you pretended to love and a f ortime that tempted you, 
 you did not hesitate. You closed your heart and opened your 
 hands. But now that you have the money safe, you would 
 perhaps like to have the woman as well. And so you come 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 279 
 
 and make advances to me. Ah ! my dear Duke, you are too 
 ambitious. One can't have everything, you know. It would 
 he cumulation ! " 
 
 The Duke jerked his head in a melancholy manner. ^' How 
 harshly you speak to me," said he. " I knew that you still 
 harboured vindictive feelings against me." 
 
 ''Vindictive feelings!" she cried. ''You flatter yourself 
 too much, my dear Duke ! If I had any feeling towards 
 you at all, it would surely be one of gratitude ; for it is 
 thanks to you that I am the wife of Monsieur Derblay, who 
 is as useful as you are useless in the world, as devoted as you 
 are egotistical, as generous as you are selfish, who, in one 
 word, has all the qualities you don't possess and none of your 
 failings." 
 
 The Duke bit his lips. Each word of this violent outburst 
 had been a slap in the face for him. "Monsieur Derblay," 
 said he, trying to subjugate Claire with his glance, "is no 
 doubt perfect. But there is one little point that greatly 
 detracts from his perfection, at least so far as you yourself are 
 concerned — he does not love you ! He has only been your 
 husband a few months, and if he appreciated you at your 
 worth he would have remained beside you, attentively and 
 affectionately. But where is he ? Why, he has gone off with 
 the Duchess." 
 
 "Your wife!" cried Claire, in a tone of violence. Then 
 making an effort and regaining composure, " Well, after all, 
 why should I be disturbed when you yourself are so uncon- 
 cerned?" 
 
 "Oh! as for me, I'm not jealous," answered the Duke 
 gaily. " And besides, I know the Duchess. She is a charm- 
 ing doll, covered with lace and brave with jewels ; but under 
 all this adornment there's neither a head nor a heart. So 
 
280 
 
 THE ironmaster; 
 
 where coTild passion lodge? But your husband " He 
 
 stopped short and came nearer to Claire, as if he feared that 
 the venom of his words might lose some of its poisonous 
 effect as it passed through the air, and then added, " Well, 
 you saw him with her, only a little while ago. Ah ! the un- 
 grateful fellow, who fails to recognise his happiness. The 
 imprudent fellow, who risks losing it ! Come, leave him with 
 the Duchess. They are worthy of each other. But let me 
 remain with you — I who appreciate you, I who understand 
 you, I who love you." 
 
 Claire took a step back, as if to place a greater distance 
 between herself and the Duke ; and then, oppressed as it 
 were, and trying in vain to appear calm, she answered, 
 '* Come, as for all that, I can only laugh at it " 
 
 '^ Yes, like Pigaro, so as not to be obliged to cry," rejoined 
 Bligny. " Eor in point of fact it is very sad. You are 
 bound to a man who wiU, morally at least, always be a 
 stranger for you. Ever}i;hing in you and him is contra- 
 dictory and antagoilistic. He is a plebeian and you are a 
 patrician. I am sure that he is biassed in favour of 
 equality ; but you, you are an aristocrat to the tips of your 
 finger-nails. He is rough, like everything that pertains to 
 the people, and that is distasteful to you. You are proud, 
 like all members of the nobility, and that wounds him. The 
 races from which you have sprung, you and he, are born 
 foes. This gentleman's forefathers cut your grandj)arents' 
 heads off, my dear. In a word, there is every reason why 
 you should hate each other, but there is nothing to induce 
 you to love one another." 
 
 Claire proudly raised her head and looked defiantly at the 
 Duke. '' And yet I love him," she said, " and you know it." 
 
 ''You imagine that you love him, " rejoined Bligny softly. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 281 
 
 as if he wislied to convince a cMld. '' And why so ? Because 
 you are jealous. But there are all kinds of jealousies. There 
 is the jealousy horn of love and the jealousy born of pride, and 
 I would not mind swearing that you are troubled with the 
 latter sort. Your husband neglects you, and though you care 
 very little for him, it irritates you. That's quite natural. 
 And so out of a spirit of contradiction you attach yourself to 
 him. All women are the same ; and as to the crisis you are 
 passing through, why, I know it by heart." 
 
 Full of astonishment and disgust, Claire silently listened to 
 the Duke as he developed his audacious analysis. Bligny 
 mistook her stupefaction for curiosity, and was eager to 
 pursue the work of demoralisation he had, to his fancy, so 
 well commenced. "Come, I'll be frank with you," he 
 resumed, laughing, ''and lay my cards on the table. The 
 crisis comprises four phases, like the course of the moon. At 
 the present moment you are in the first phase, otherwise the 
 phase of resistance. Your husband is beginning to neglect 
 you, and you are obstinately striving to win him back. It is 
 a fixed idea on your part. But he resists, and you will soon 
 find that all your efforts are useless. This gallant man, 
 after contenting himself with flirtation, will at last come to 
 downright infidelity. Then you will reach the second phase. 
 You will have lost all your illusions and your peace of mind 
 as well. You will be altogether overwhelmed, and at first 
 you will turn for comfort to the Divinity, who alone can 
 console great griefs. But as your husband will continue the 
 course of his successes, your further resignation will give 
 way to bitterness. Your happy husband will be too gay, and 
 you will find yourself too sad. After all, you are only two- 
 and- twenty, and you have a right to claim a share of love. 
 One cannot live alone for ever. Irritation will seize hold of 
 
282 THE ironmaster; 
 
 you, and you will reach tlie tliird phase, called the phase of 
 anger. A veil will have fallen from your eyes, and you will 
 see your husband as he really is — clumsy, vulgar, and 
 foolish. You will feel astonished at having regretted his loss 
 for a single moment, and you will feel a vague longing for 
 certain compensation. Ah. ! now let the fickle husband take 
 care, for the end of the crisis approaches ! Still blushing 
 and yet resolute, you will step into the phase of consolation. 
 Look before you; everything is gay and rosy. Here the 
 past may be forgotten in the most charming style ! Come, 
 another step and there you are. Do you hesitate? Well, 
 madame, allow me to offer you my hand to do you the honours 
 of this last phase, which I wait for with a little hope and a 
 great deal of love." 
 
 As he spoke the Duke tried to take Claire's hand, but she 
 abruptly repulsed him with a dark and threatening look. 
 " Your calculations are ingenious," she said '' and they show 
 that you have studied women. Only I regret to see that if 
 you have conscientiously noted the conduct of those who are 
 mad or depraved, you have neglected to take the honest ones 
 into account. There are, I am proud to tell you, some 
 unfortunate women who do not lose their heads, who decHne 
 to avenge themselves, and who find themselves sujfficiently 
 consoled when they preserve their own self-esteem and deserve 
 the respect of others." 
 
 ''Very good, very good!" exclaimed the Duke. ''You 
 are playing your part : this is the phase of resistance." 
 
 '* If you persist, I can only hate you." 
 
 "I persist because I can only love you." 
 
 "But what you call your love is a shameful persecution! 
 What manner of man are you, to expose yourseK to my 
 hatred after winning my contempt? " 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 283 
 
 For a moment the Duke remained silent, looking at Claire 
 who stood before him, quivering but defiant. A tress of her 
 fair hair had become loosened and was waving over her 
 shoulder. Her bosom heaved under her blue cloth riding- 
 habit, and with a clenched hand she brandished her tapering 
 plaited leather riding- whip as if it had been a weapon. She 
 looked more beautiful than ever in this attitude, and furious 
 desire seized hold of Bligny. He turned pale, his eyes 
 became clouded, and walking towards Claire with open 
 arms, ^' There is nothing I will not risk to win you," he 
 stammered. 
 
 He touched her. She could feel his burning breath pass 
 over her face. She drew herself back, and with lowered 
 brows and contracted lips, *' Have a care ! " she cried. " If 
 you take another step forward I will treat you like the 
 coward that you are, and slash you across the face." He 
 saw that she had raised her arm with threatening energy, 
 that she was ready to strike, and he retreated. Then, proud 
 of her triumph, drawing herself erect and yet trembling 
 nervously at the thought of the resolution she had shown, 
 ''Have matters come to such a pass," she asked, '' that you 
 dare to insult me like this ? Am I so publicly abandoned 
 that I can be subjected to such affronts with impunity ? 
 "Would you dare to attack me like this if I had a man near 
 me to defend me ? No ; I am alone, and so you are brave ; 
 but you see I am quite able to defend myself." 
 
 The Duke, who had become calm again, now bowed. *' You 
 will change," said he. "The future belongs to me. I am 
 patient; I can wait." 
 
 This cool, audacious reply exasperated Claire. -She gave 
 the Duke a wild look, and in a voice that shook with violent 
 emotion said, ''Learn that even if I were the most unhappy 
 
284 THE ironmaster; 
 
 of women — even were I destined to become the most unwortliy 
 of my sex, wlucL. is impossible — even if I were to ruin myself 
 — well, you inspire me witb so mucb aversion and disgust 
 that I would take no matter wbom, a stranger, a passer-by, 
 for my lover rather than take you /" 
 
 This cry of fury did not seem to make any impression on 
 the Duke. With the cool, confident smile that habitually 
 exasperated Claire, he quietly exclaimed, '' We shall see.'* 
 
 The young wife made no rejoinder. She turned away from 
 her persecutor, and proceeding in the direction of the clearing, 
 whence she was merely separated by a wavy veil of aspens 
 and alders, she drew near to the spot where M. Moulinet's 
 footmen were preparing an appetising lunch for the hunters. 
 In reality the Duke's sudden aggression had made her appre- 
 hensive. She had seen him with a pale face, sparkling eyes, 
 and quivering hands eager to seize hold of her. Thanks to 
 her energy, she had this time escaped the struggle, but a 
 feeling of horror and loathing came over her at the thought 
 that the attempt might be renewed. And thus, no longer 
 having any confidence in the honour of this nobleman, whom 
 she had once worshipped as a god, she came in deep grief to 
 place herself under the protection of lacqueys. 
 
 ** Come, look sharp," said the head butler to his assistants. 
 ** Here are our people arriving ! " 
 
 In a perfect stream the vehicles were now coming back 
 along all the forest roads, rumbling less noisily as they rolled 
 over the green sward. The horsemen followed along the side 
 paths, and all these young folks, heated by their mad gallop, 
 were calling gaily after one another. They were stiU five 
 or six hundred yards from the clearing, and yet their voices 
 could be distinctly heard. This beautiful day was fraught 
 with complete enjoyment for them, for they were free from 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 285 
 
 care and entirely intent on present pleasure. Claire could not 
 help comparing their gaiety witli lier sadness. She felt angry 
 that all nature should be en fete when she herself was so 
 gloomy ; forgetting, alas ! that she alone was responsible for 
 her woe. 
 
 She was aroused from her distressing thoughts on seeing a 
 carriage drive into the open space. The Marchioness de Beau- 
 lieu, with a little lace shawl over her shoulders, was ensconced 
 inside, just as if she were seated in her cosy arm-chair at home. 
 Claire went towards her as towards salvation. The atmo- 
 sphere seemed purified by the presence of this noble woman, 
 and by her mother's side the young wife at once regained her 
 peace of mind. Madame de Beaulieu, habitually indolent, 
 had reached the forest rather late. It was mainly in view of 
 seeing her daughter on horseback that she had shaken off her 
 usual apathy and ordered the carriage. " What ?" cried she 
 as she perceived Claire. ''You are here all by yourself? 
 But where is your husband, then? And what is Sophie 
 doing?" 
 
 '' The Baroness has just left me," answered Claire with per- 
 fect composure. ''And as for Philippe, I insisted that he 
 should foUow the hunt. A husband mustn't hang about his 
 wife in public ; it would make people talk." 
 
 She was calm and smiling, and her mother looked at her 
 with thorough satisfaction. A shadow of a suspicion had never 
 once crossed the Marchioness's somewhat superficial mind. 
 ^' You are happy enough to allow yourselves to hide 
 your happiness," she said. "Ah! Philippe is the paragon of 
 sons-in-law." 
 
 At this moment the arrival of the main party of horsemen 
 at a sharp trot interrupted Madame de Beaulieu, and enabled 
 Claire to conceal the embarrassment which her mother's 
 
286 THE ironmaster; 
 
 praise had caused her. Foremost came La Brede and Du 
 Tremblays on horses white with foam, the former fairly 
 purple, and looking as if about to burst, and the latter ex- 
 tremely pale, and seeming as if he were on the point of 
 fainting. They were at once surrounded by the joyous 
 hunters, and properly complimented on the vigour with which 
 they had kept their pursuers at a distance. Pontac was 
 sounding the " hallali" on his Dampierre horn with all the 
 strength of his lungs, while his piqueur, Bistocq, who looked 
 altogether out of sorts, was shambling along on foot, leading 
 his big bony roan by the bridle, and mumbling some scarcely 
 complimentary remarks concerning the amateurs who played 
 at hunting and tired out poor horses for the mere sake of 
 rushing after bits of paper, as if ''with your permission, 
 sir," they had been so many chiffonniers. At the same 
 moment Claire perceived Philippe, who was returning with 
 Suzanne and the Baroness. Sophie outpaced her companions, 
 and approaching her cousin the first, whispered these words, 
 which at once brought roses to the young wife's cheeks : 
 *' When we got there he was no longer beside Athenais ; he 
 had left her to that fool of a Pontac, who only knows how to 
 bray on a horn. A nice talent the simpleton has, and a truly 
 delightful one in company." 
 
 So saying she began to laugh, and blinking her eyes with 
 the unintentional air of impertinence common to shortsighted 
 people, she looked at Athenais, who now came up fairly 
 deafened by her companion's horn, but not daring to say 
 anything, for fear people might think she was deficient in 
 power of endurance. However, on perceiving Claire, the 
 Duchess put her horse to a canter, and made an ironical 
 gesture to her husband, who was standing with an air of 
 careless indifference near Madame de Beaulieu's carriage. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 287 
 
 '' All, Duke ! " she cried, ''so I've found you at last, ^at the 
 same time as Madame Derblay, eh. ? It was really amiable 
 on your part to keep your cousin company." 
 
 As she spoke Athenais gave Philippe a diabolical glance, 
 as if to instil some poisonous supposition into his mind. She 
 wished by this to revenge herself upon him for the humilia- 
 tion she had experienced when he abandoned her so promptly 
 during the hunt. Scarcely had the gleam shot from her eyes 
 when the ironmaster came forward with a firm step and an 
 almost threatening look. Claire turned pale. "Would the 
 Duchess's implacable hatred impel these two men against each 
 other ? 
 
 But the Duke was speaking. ''I was not fortunate enough 
 to keep my cousin company, as you so appropriately re- 
 marked," he said to his wife, bowing respectfully at the same 
 time to Madame Derblay. ''My aunt was already here when 
 I arrived." 
 
 "Then you must have a bad horse, my dear; you had 
 better change it," rejoined the Duchess ; and grinding her 
 teeth, enraged that her malevolence should have been so 
 promptly foiled, she cut her mare so severely across the ears 
 with her whip that the animal bounded on one side and 
 reared, furiously shaking its bit all white with foam. 
 
 The Duke quietly advanced, caught the horse by the bridle, 
 at once reduced it to submission, and assisted Athenais to 
 alight. " Nothing could be more unseemly than to make a 
 horse rear like that, my dear," said he with an impertinent 
 air. "And besides, you are by no means a first-rate rider, 
 and you might easily come to the ground, which would 
 scarcely be a pleasant contingency. Take my advice, and rid 
 yourself of such manners as soon as possible; they are 
 ' shoppy ' aU over." Thereupon, leaving the Duchess pale 
 
288 THE ironmaster; 
 
 with rage, Bligny quietly walked off to join his friends, and 
 drink with, them to the success of the day. 
 
 Claire, who shuddered and felt icy cold, had taken a seat in 
 her mother's carriage, requesting her to drive her back to 
 Pont-Avesnes. She felt a weight on her heart. It seemed to 
 her as if the Duke's answer to Athenais — which so appro- 
 priately prevented Philippe's perilous intervention — had made 
 her in some measure his accomplice. She was on the point of 
 telling everything to her husband, preferring his blame and 
 anger to this odious connivance with the man who had so 
 outrageously insulted her; but at the decisive moment her 
 courage failed her, she did not dare to speak. And sighing 
 bitterly, she pictured herself condemned for ever to falsehood, 
 despite all her loathing for it, and compelled to practise deceit 
 everywhere and always ; to show, indeed, a smiling face, even 
 when her heart was full of despair. She glanced timidly at 
 Philippe, who was cantering by the side of Bachelin's gig. The 
 ironmaster's features wore an expression of composure, and 
 there was not the least sign of emotion in his voice as he 
 quietly talked with the old notary. Claire thought to herself 
 that perhaps she had been mistaken in fancying she had 
 detected a gleam of anger in his eyes as he approached the 
 Duke. Still she was aware of Philippe's wonderful power 
 over himself, and perhaps at the present moment he was 
 merely forcing himself to look careless. 
 
 Claire hoped that he was jealous. At the risk of her life, 
 she began to wish he would break out in threats and raise his 
 hand to strike her as he had done on that fatal night. She 
 could no longer remain in this terrible suspense. She resolved 
 that on the morrow she would speak to him about her brother, 
 and do all in her power to penetrate his mysterious intentions. 
 Then, having come to this decision, she determined to try and 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 289 
 
 be gay ; slie made an effort to dispel the clouds tliat hovered 
 over her brow, and, like an actor on the stage, she composed 
 herself a smiling face. 
 
 Through the trees in the distance one could still hear the 
 joyous laughter of the hunting party, while Pontac's horn 
 still awoke the echoes of the forest, as it sounded the death 
 of the stag, incarnate in those dissimilar beings, fat La Brede 
 and little Du Tremblays. 
 
XYI. 
 
 Philippe was working in his spacious, staidly furnished study. 
 His writing-table was covered with papers which he glanced 
 at rapidly. With a stroke of the pen he initialed each of 
 them that proved to be satisfactory, and then without a pause 
 turned to another one. It was ten o'clock in the morning. 
 The burning sunrays fell direct upon the front of the chateau, 
 and one of them darting through the window-pane suddenly 
 played upon the ironmaster's forehead, and induced him to 
 interrupt his work. He rose, approached the window, and 
 looked out into the garden. 
 
 Under a striped sailcloth tent installed at the edge of 
 the sheet of water, Suzanne, attired in a white dress, was 
 fishing absentmindedly. Her line dipped into the basin, 
 and the float, stirred by the tugs of a fish which had taken 
 the bait, was bobbing up and down, making the water undu- 
 late in shiny, expanding circles. But the young girl failed 
 to notice this. Her gaze was lost in vacancy, and seemed to 
 be following some happy thought. She sat there motionless 
 with a radiant face, fully absorbed in her dream. 
 
 A smile curved Philippe's lips, and softly opening the 
 window, he exclaimed, " Eh ! Suzanne, you have a bite ! " 
 
 The young girl started, and turned towards her brother 
 with a graceful pout, *'0h, Philippe!" she said, ''how you 
 frightened me ! " 
 
THE ironmaster; or, love and pride. 291 
 
 "But draw in your line," rejoined the ironmaster. ''A 
 percli has been struggling at tlie end of it for the last ten 
 minutes. It is really not right tp make fish suffer like 
 that." 
 
 Suzanne instinctively raised her slender rod, and as it bent 
 she hoisted from the water a wriggling perch which gleamed 
 with the brilliancy of silver. With her gloved hand she at 
 once unhooked it and dropped it into a netted bag which was 
 immersed among the waterplants near the bank.- 
 
 "I've a dozen!" cried Suzanne, proudly showing her 
 brother how full the bag was. 
 
 "They will make a dish," gaily answered the ironmaster. 
 " They show themselves willing, and no mistake." 
 
 For a minute longer he stood gazing at his sister, who was 
 gravely baiting her line again. In the shade of the tent, 
 under the blue sky, she looked so fresh and rosy that a 
 sudden feeling of emotion overcame him. His chest heaved 
 with a sigh, and he mentally sent his pretty sister a kiss. 
 Then closing the window again, he drew down the blind so 
 that it might protect him from the sun. Eefreshing shade 
 now pervaded the study, and Philippe, returning to his 
 writing-table, was on the point of sitting down, when a tap 
 at the door made him pause. " Come in," said he in a careless 
 tone. 
 
 The door opened, and Claire, with a blush on her face, but 
 resolute despite her emotion, appeared on the threshold. 
 "Am I disturbing you ? " she asked as she entered the room, 
 whilst Philippe, extremely surprised by this unexpected 
 question, courteously offered her an arm-chair. 
 
 "Not at all," he answered quietly, and leaning against the 
 mantelpiece, he waited for her to speak again. 
 
 Claire sat down, and leaning back in her chair glanced for 
 
292 
 
 THE ironmaster; 
 
 a moment around her. She never entered this room, which 
 was set aside for Philippe's private use. Its somewhat cold 
 and solemn aspect pleased her, as symbolical of the character 
 of its inmate, and she examined everything with great com- 
 placency. In reality she was not sorry to be able to defer the 
 moment of speaking, for her heart was beating quickly, and 
 it seemed as if a band compressed her temples. 
 
 Philippe stood on his guard watching her. He was the first 
 to break the silence. '' Have you anything to ask of me?" 
 said he. 
 
 Claire turned her eyes towards her husband, and with a 
 touch of sadness in her voice, "We live so much apart from 
 each other," she said, " that if I had not something to ask of 
 you I should not have risked disturbing you." 
 
 Philippe made a deprecatory gesture, and bowing to his 
 wife as if to encourage her, he rejoined, " I am listening." 
 
 Claire bent her head as though she wished to collect her 
 thoughts. She was trembling, and her throat was dry. Never 
 had she engaged in battle with such an acute feeling of 
 anguish. *' What I have to speak to you about," she said at 
 last, *4s most important, and interests you as much as it 
 interests me." 
 
 **Let us see." 
 
 Claire gave her husband a look so full of mute supplication 
 that any other man would have fallen on his knees ; but he 
 remained standing, in the same expectant, circumspect attitude. 
 
 "Before anything else," said the young wife, "you take 
 some interest in Octave, I believe ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't think," answered the ironmaster with 
 astonishment, "that your brother has so far had any reason to 
 doubt it." 
 
 The reply was somewhat ambiguous, and Claire slightly 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 293 
 
 frowned. ''And if you liad occasion to show that you took 
 an interest in him ? " she asked. 
 
 ''It is probable that I should avail myself of the oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 It was to this precise point that Claire had wished to bring 
 her husband, and she no doubt fancied he was caught in the 
 network of her questions. It now only remained for her to 
 indicate the point at issue, and carried away by the fever of 
 the battle she had engaged in, the young wife did not hesitate. 
 ''Well," said she, " such an occasion now presents itself. Do 
 you wish to know what it is ? I must tell you that it is a 
 serious matter, and one which does not merely concern my 
 brother." 
 
 " What a deal of digression ! " interrupted the ironmaster. 
 ' ' Does what you have to ask of me seem so very difficult to 
 obtain ? " 
 
 Claire looked her husband full in the face, as if to lose 
 nothing of the play of his features, and then boldly replied, 
 "Judge for yourself. Octave loves your sister, and has 
 requested me to ask you for her hand." 
 
 A muffled exclamation escaped Philippe, and his face became 
 gloomy. To hide his perturbation he approached the window, 
 and standing there in silence, he gently raised the blind. 
 Unconscious of what was happening in the study, Suzanne 
 still sat dreaming beside the sheet of water, with her line 
 dipping in the rippling mirror. The ironmaster gazed at her. 
 She looked so gentle and so candid, surely she was born for 
 happiness. 
 
 Such was Claire's anxiety that she impatiently rose to her 
 feet and approached her husband ; then, seeing how pensive 
 and absorbed he looked, she exclaimed, " You do not answer 
 me?" 
 
294 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Philippe turned round, and speaking slowly, as if lie 
 regretted having to give such a reply, ''I am sorry for your 
 brother, but this marriage is impossible," he said. 
 
 ** You refuse? " cried Claire, a prey to horrible torments. 
 
 " I refuse," repeated the ironmaster coldly. 
 
 ''Why?" 
 
 Philippe looked fixedly at his wife, as if he wished his 
 answer to penetrate into her very heart. '' Because," said he, 
 ''because there is already one unhappy person in my family 
 through the fault of yours, and I consider that enough." 
 
 "Take care," rejoined Claire, swiftly, "you may all the 
 more surely make Suzanne unhappy by refusing my brother 
 her hand." 
 
 "How is that?" asked the ironmaster with sudden ani- 
 mation. 
 
 " She loves him." 
 
 In the garden Suzanne's joyous voice could now be heard, 
 as she set her fishing paraphernalia in order, with Brigitte's 
 assistance. 
 
 Philippe paused for a moment to listen to her. " She loves 
 him," he repeated. "That is no doubt a great misfortune, 
 but it will not alter my decision. If, on the eve of the day 
 fixed for my marriage with you, some one had prevented that 
 marriage from taking place, even by breaking my heart, he 
 would have rendered me an immense service. My cruel 
 experience shall at least serve for something, If my sister 
 has to weep, she shall at least weep in liberty ; she shall not 
 see her future irremediably lost like mine." 
 
 This was such a blow for Claire that she was unable to 
 retain her composure. " You are seeking for revenge ! " she 
 rejoined in an excited tone. 
 
 "Eevenge?" said the ironmaster, haughtily. "Do you 
 
OB, LOVE AND PRIDE. 295 
 
 tHnk I need it ? No ; I am taking a precaution, and every- 
 tliing advises me to take it." 
 
 Claire sank into her arm-chair. She could detect such 
 disdain and such resolution in her husband's words that she 
 renounced the contest. She now only thought of entreating 
 him. ''Come," said she, ''I beg of you, don't render me 
 responsible for the unhappiness of these children. I am 
 sufficiently crushed myself. What can I do to mollify you. 
 I know that I acted very wrongly towards you." 
 
 Philippe began to smile bitterly. '' You acted very wrongly 
 towards me ? " he said. '' Eeally ? And you deign to own it ? 
 But it seems to me that that is a very great concession on 
 your part!" 
 
 Claire took no notice of her husband's irony. She was 
 determined not to let anything repel her ; she was resolved to 
 go on to the end, bitter as it might be. ''Yes, I did you a 
 grievous wrong," she rejoined; "but you have cruelly 
 punished me for it." 
 
 "I?" interrupted Philippe, "And how? Havel ever 
 reproached you, ever spoken a wounding word to you ? Have 
 I been wanting in politeness towards you ? " 
 
 " No. But how much I should have preferred your anger 
 to the haughty indifference with which you treat me. I hear 
 everyone around me talking of my happiness. I am envied 
 and congratulated wherever I go. But I return home and 
 where is my happiness then ? I seek for it, and in its place I 
 only find solitude, abandonment, and sadness." 
 
 Philippe drew himself erect, and looking down on the poor 
 woman who, as he felt, had fallen so completely into his 
 power, "It did not depend on me," he answered, "for 
 matters to be different. You decided your life yourseK. It is 
 such as vou made it." 
 
296 THE ironmaster; 
 
 ''THat is true," rejoined Claire, in a broken voice. ''But 
 at least I had a right to count on repose, and even that has 
 been denied me." She rose, half sobbing, with clenched 
 hands and a wild look in her eyes. " That miserable woman 
 who hates me pursues me even into my home, and you suffer 
 it, and lend yourself to her manoeuvres ! She openly flirts 
 with you ; she compromises you ! But you have not even 
 enough pity for me to spare me her outrageous bravado. 
 Oh! but my patience is at an end; this situation shall not 
 last any longer. I will not have it ! " 
 
 " You will not ? " rejoined Philippe ; and as Claire repeated 
 with furious obstinacy, ''No, no! I wiU not!" he sternly 
 added," You forget that there is but one person here who has 
 a right to say ' I will not.' " 
 
 His proud young wife's blood mantled over her face. She 
 revolted ; and, blinded by anger, carried away by jealousy, 
 "Take care!" she cried, "my endurance has its limits. I 
 can bear your indifference ; but such insulting disdain, such 
 public abandonment — No! I will never consent to it!" 
 
 Philippe paused in front of her, and looked at her with 
 ironical curiosity. "That is so like you ! " he said. "Always 
 the same, always influenced by pride ! You are concerned 
 as to what the people about you may think. Public opinion 
 — that is your foremost care. It was simply for the sake of 
 your position in society that you plunged so madly into our 
 marriage adventure. And again to-day, exasperated at the 
 thought that people may deride and taunt you, you are fairly 
 carried away, and forget yourself even to the point of threat- 
 ening me." 
 
 "Oh, no! I do not threaten," interrupted Claire, no 
 longer able to restrain her tears,* "I beg. Take pity on me, 
 Philippe. Be generous Will you never weary of striking 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 297 
 
 SO harshly at my heart ? Yon have had a full revenge, be 
 sure of it ; you can be indulgent now. If you will make no 
 change in our mode of life, at least let me have some peace ; 
 deliver me from the Duchess. Keep the Duke away from 
 me." 
 
 She spoke these last words in a low voice, as if she were 
 ashamed that they should fall from her lips. 
 
 ''What do you complain of?" rejoined the ironmaster. 
 ''Don't I have to support them both myself? They, are 
 your relatives. What would society say — that society whose 
 opinion is your first concern — if we closed our doors to them 
 without a reason ? One must wait patiently, and put up with 
 the evils of our sad situation. Life cannot be changed to suit 
 the fancies of a spoilt child. Everything is grave and serious 
 in life, and misfortune comes only too easily. There is no 
 need of courting it ; you know it now. Cast out of the beaten 
 track, both of us — and by your fault — our duty is to march 
 onward since we have no right, since we are unable, to 
 retreat." 
 
 "So I have nothing to await from you, nothing to hope 
 from you? " 
 
 ' ' Nothing, ' ' replied Philippe coldly. ' ' And remember that 
 you yourself decided it should be so." 
 
 Claire looked at her husband. The expression of his fea- 
 tures had greatly changed. His eyes had receded under his 
 brows, and he was extremely pale. Still he spoke in a firm 
 voice. Eor one moment she thought of throwing herself at 
 his feet, of opening her heart to him, of confessing that she 
 loved him. She walked towards him, haK stifling, with a 
 heaving bosom and outstretched hands; but a lingering 
 vestige of pride restrained her. She heaved a deep sigh and 
 stopped short. 
 
298 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 Philippe now approaclied. ''I am oMiged to go to the 
 works," said he, as calmly as if no such distressing scene had 
 occurred between him and this woman he adored. " Excuse 
 me for leaving you." 
 
 ''What answer shall I give to my brother ?" asked Claire 
 timidly. 
 
 "Tell him that I rely on his honourable feeling not to 
 breathe a word of my refusal to Suzanne. In a week from 
 now I wiU arrange to send her away for a short time." And 
 gliding like a shadow through the dim study, he nodded witl^ 
 seeming indifference to Claire and went out. 
 
 F^r some minutes the young wife remained alone in the 
 spacious room, and gave way to . her grief without restraint. 
 Stretched on the divan, she measured the full extent of her 
 love. Thus it was irrevocable. In vain had she displayed 
 the gaping wound in her heart to Philippe ; he had merely 
 given her a careless look. She no longer existed for him . 
 He had told her so ; and he kept his word. Such was his 
 implacability that he would not forgive her for her passing 
 error, and he harshly repulsed her when she came to him. 
 She accused herself of having ruined her brother's future. 
 It was because her husband distrusted the hot blood of the 
 Beaulieus — the full and fatal violence of which she had 
 revealed to him — that he refused to let Suzanne become 
 Octave's wife. How would she ever be able to break this sad 
 news to her brother ? 
 
 The sound of Suzanne's voice in the next room made her 
 spring to her feet, like a hind alarmed by the baying of the 
 hounds. She was fearful of being found weeping in her hus- 
 band's study, and she at once hastened to her own room and 
 locked- herself in. At luncheon time she sent word that she 
 was poorly and need not be waited for. Finally, at two o'clock. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 299 
 
 when from lier window she had seen Suzanne disappear among 
 the shady trees of the park, she furtively tripped down the 
 stairs, and leaving the chateau by the little side gate in the 
 courtyard, set out for Beaulieu on foot. 
 
 The Marquis, who was impatient to learn the result of the 
 mission which he had entrusted to his sister, was walking 
 up and down the terrace, fully expecting that Claire would 
 not keep him long in suspense. He espied her from afar 
 as she came up the steep road leading to the chateau, and 
 her attitude impressed him painfully. Madame Derblay was 
 walking slowly along the grassy embankment which fringed 
 the roadway. She was leaning forward, looking on the 
 ground, and often forgetting to shade herself with her para- 
 sol from the burning sunrays which constantly darted through 
 the clouds. There was a touch of weariness in her attitude 
 that seemed to presage defeat. She did not approach with 
 the alert, triumphant footstep of . a messenger bearing good 
 news. However, the young man hastened forth to meet her 
 and speedily reached her side. They exchanged a long look ; 
 the brother's was a troubled and anxious one, the sister's 
 very mournful. 
 
 ^' Good heavens ! what has happened ? " murmured Octave, 
 as he convulsively caught his sister by the arm and led her 
 towards an open space where several benches had been 
 installed in full view of the lovely valley. Claire was 
 already enervated, and the delicious scent of the blooming 
 lime-trees, which rose around, affected her so grievously that 
 she began to tremble, and, with her eyes full of tears, 
 remained in front of her brother without saying a word. 
 
 '' Come, Claire, for heaven's sake," resumed the Marquis ; 
 '' what is the matter ? Speak ! Tell me ! Anything is pre- 
 ferable to your silence." 
 
300 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Madame Derblay took pity on her brother's anxiety, and 
 making a great effort replied, " I have a sad answer to 
 give you, my dear fellow, respecting the request you en- 
 trusted to me. It is impossible for you and Suzanne to 
 marry." 
 
 Octave took a step back, as if he had seen an abyss open 
 before him. He looked wildly at his sister as though he 
 did not understand her, and repeated, '^ Impossible ? Why 
 so?" 
 
 Claire shook her head mournfully. " Philippe refuses," 
 she answered. 
 
 ''What reason did your husband give?" asked the 
 Marquis. 
 
 The young wife remained silent. Her embarrassment was 
 very great. What answer could she give her brother? 
 Could she confess her own painful secret to him? What 
 pretext could she invent to impart some motive to Philippe's 
 refusal? And it was necessary she should speak without 
 seeming to hesitate, for Octave was looking at her most 
 earnestly, seeking for the truth in the expression of her 
 face, in her slightest gesture. ''He gave no reason," she 
 stammered at last, blushing with shame as she spoke. " He 
 refused to explain himseK." 
 
 " No reason ?" exclaimed the Marquis, with great astonish- 
 ment. " No explanation ? He, Philippe, to whom I am so 
 much attached ? He didn't hesitate to inflict such a slight 
 upon me! " 
 
 Greatly disquieted. Octave hastily wiped his eyes and then 
 sat down. He was grievously puzzled as to the reason which 
 Philippe had refused to give, and he asked himself what it 
 could be, seeking for it despairingly in his own mind. Sud- 
 denly, however, he uttered an exclamation. A ray of light 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE, 301 
 
 had dawned upon liim. Money ! It could only be tlie ques- 
 tion of money. He had virtually no fortune and no position. 
 That must surely be the reason why Philippe refused to give 
 him Suzanne's hand. At this thought he hastily rose to his 
 feet again. Claire was looking at him anxiously. But now 
 his brow was radiant with confidence and courage, and he 
 took a few steps forward, answering his thoughts aloud, 
 without noticing it. ''No position, it's true, but I'll make 
 myself one," he said. ''No fortune. "Well, Philippe knows 
 how a man may make one. I'll follow his example." 
 
 Suddenly he paused, stupefied and almost frightened, for 
 Claire had sprung to her feet, and had caught hold of his 
 arm. Two words had struck her — two only — in all that he 
 had said, "No fortune!" And they had sufficed to agitate 
 her strangely. Forgetful of her preoccupations, her cares 
 and sorrows, she wished Octave to explain these words to her 
 without delay. 
 
 "What you — no fortune ? " she repeated ; and with an im- 
 perious, almost a threatening gesture, she claimed an imme- 
 diate reply. 
 
 Octave, who was greatly embarrassed and confused, tried 
 to turn aside, but Claire, who suspected some mystery which 
 it was urgent she should solve at any cost, caught him reso- 
 lutely by the shoulders and gazed into his eyes. "What do 
 you mean?" she asked again. 
 
 "I have imprudently spoken some words you ought never 
 to have heard," replied Octave. " You were not aware of the 
 loss of that lawsuit. It was intended you should never know 
 it. But like a simpleton I have betrayed the secret which 
 was entrusted to me." 
 
 Claire was no longer listening to the Marquis, she was 
 thinking. The loss of that lawsuit meant ruin for them all, 
 
302 . THE ironmaster; 
 
 and if lier brother liad no fortune she could have no dowry. 
 A horrible doubt came over her ; she shuddered, her eyes 
 dilated, and turning towards Octave, ^' But when I was 
 married ? " she asked, finishing her phrase with a signifi- 
 cant gesture. 
 
 '' The disaster had taken place." 
 
 ** And my husband — Philippe — was he aware of it? " 
 
 *' He was ; and he forbade us to speak of it to you. He 
 did not wish a shadow to dim your brow. The generosity and 
 delicacy of feeling he showed on that occasion were really 
 admirable ' ' 
 
 He said no more, for a shriek resounded. Claire beat the 
 air with her arms as if she had gone mad, and then in a 
 husky, faltering voice exclaimed, ''He did that? and I — I — 
 Oh ! the miserable woman that I am ! " 
 
 As if suddenly evoked, the spacious room with the high 
 tapestry hangings whereon the warriors smiled demurely to 
 the goddesses appeared before her eyes, just as it looked on 
 the night of her marriage, with the fire smouldering below the 
 mantelshelf against which she leant, quivering from head to 
 foot. She saw Philippe again pale and trembling almost at her 
 feet, and yet proudly raising his brow when she haughtily 
 bade him take her fortune. Her fortune, indeed ! How dis- 
 dainfully he smiled. She could understand why he had done 
 so now, and in her despair the truth, distressing and humili- 
 ating as it was, rose to her lips. She must speak and accuse 
 herself. She had lost all self-possession. She was seized 
 with a mad desire to strike herself, as if to punish her flesh 
 since she was imable to chastise her spirit. 
 
 *' Oh ! I lied," she'stammered, " I lied when I told you that 
 I did not know why he had refused to give you his sister's 
 hand. It was on account of me — miserable creature that I 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 303 
 
 am ! —inflicting woe on all who come near me ! " And then, 
 yielding to her impulse, she made her sad confession to her 
 brother, 'attenuating nothing, but insisting on her guilt, and 
 openly displaying the horror of her conduct. " And he," she 
 continued, ''so proud, so disinterested, so good even in his 
 anger, for he spared me. And yet with one word he might 
 have crushed me. He did not do so, and I — I heard him 
 supplicating me. I saw him weep, and I remained untouched. 
 I did not understand what a wealth of deep devoted love his 
 heart contained." Then, radiant with passion, as if her very 
 grief had transfigured her, '' Ah, if you had not spoken, my 
 poor Octave, my life was lost for ever ! "What would have 
 become of me? And it was by chance that you told me 
 everything. Oh, I could bless you for it!" She took her 
 brother in her arms and kissed him with passionate grati- 
 tude, while the words bubbled up to her lips like efferves- 
 cence suddenly rid of restraint. 
 
 " Calm yourself, Claire, I beg of you! " exclaimed Octave, 
 who was positively frightened. 
 
 " Eear nothing, we are saved now," she rejoined excitedly. 
 "IwiU repair the wrong . I have done; I will assure your 
 happiness. Oh ! I will go on my knees to Philippe ; every- 
 thing will now be easy and pleasant, providing I achieve 
 success. This morning I was hardly skilful with him, but I 
 had lost my seK-possession. I love him so." A cloud jjassed 
 before her brow, for she had just remembered the Duchess. 
 '' Oh! I will not have him taken from me now," she added in 
 a husky voice. ''I must win him back or I shall die ! " 
 
 '' Claire !" cried the Marquis. 
 
 But such was the extreme mobility of her impressions that 
 she had already passed from sadness to joy. ''Don't be 
 frightened," she resumed, with a confident look and a gay 
 
S04 THE ironmaster; or, love and pride. 
 
 laugh. " We have a reception to-morrow ; it is my fete-day. 
 All our friends will be there. I must be beautiful to try and 
 please him, and I shall succeed, I am sure of it. And then I 
 shall see him near me again, confident and loving." 
 
 Her nerves, which for some minutes already had alone been 
 sustaining her, suddenly relaxed, and she staggered and fell 
 into Octave's arms. He laid her gently on the grassy bank. 
 Her bosom heaved with convulsive sobs, and for a long while 
 she lay there utterly overcome, listening without an attempt 
 at speaking to her brother's affectionate words of consolation. 
 When at last she regained her self-possession, and was able 
 to sit beside the Marquis, she remained gravely contem- 
 plating the green and peaceful valley which was stretched out 
 before her, with the Avesnes glistening like a silver ribbon as 
 it coursed onward through the meadows. The pointed roofs of 
 the chateau sprang out of the dark clumps of lofty park trees, 
 extending to the foot of the hill. The black smoke from the 
 furnace chimneys trailed heavily across the sky, and the 
 tapering steeple of the little church rose up, surmounted by 
 its weathercock, which the sun, now sinking, burnished with 
 its slanting rays. 
 
 This was the peaceful spot where Claire now dreamt of 
 living. She remembered that from the same place where she 
 at present sat she had once gazed upon it with mingled anger 
 and disdain. Now, however, it had become her earthly para- 
 dise, for it was Philippe's home ! 
 
XVII. 
 
 The feast of Sainte Claire feU on a Sunday that year, and 
 appropriately enough. Saturday was the feast of Sainte Su- 
 zanne. Since Philippe's happiness had been wrecked he had 
 invariably regulated his conduct in keeping with the require- 
 ments of the situation, and thus he considered he could not 
 dispense with celebrating this double anniversary. There had 
 been no entertainment at Pont-Avesnes since his marriage. 
 Claire had been ill all the winter, and her convalescence had 
 extended sufficiently far into the spring to excuse the iron- 
 master, even in the eyes of the most punctilious, for keeping 
 his doors closed. However, when the moral disquietude with 
 which Claire was afflicted openly showed itself on various 
 occasions, Philippe decided he would make a public display of 
 his affection for his wife by giving a fete in her honour.** Ten 
 days had elapsed since the invitations were sent out when 
 Claire's fruitless attempt at a reconciliation was made, with 
 the unfortunate result that their distressing situation passed 
 from a chronic to an acute stage. 
 
 Philippe was so discouraged that for a moment he thought 
 of giving up the fete and sending notice of its abandonment 
 to his guests. But it was the eve of the appointed day, and, 
 
 * Birthday festivities are not customary among Catholics on the Con- 
 tinent. In lieu thereof they celebrate the day set apart for their patron 
 saint in the Eoman calendar. — Trans, 
 
306 THE ironmaster; 
 
 everything considered, lie determined to rely on Claire's 
 energy. He knew tliat if she chose mere pride would enable 
 her to show a smiling face to all around her. Accordingly, 
 witli an aching heart, displeased with himself and everybody 
 else, the ironmaster made every preparation to do the honours 
 of Pont-Avesnes with due display and gaiety. 
 
 Since morning Claire, shut up in her room with the 
 Baroness, had been getting ready for the struggle. She was 
 anxious to fascinate her husband, and stretched on the sofa in 
 the subdued light, she rested at leisure with the object of en- 
 hancing the freshness of her complexion. Nor did she neglect 
 the artifices of fashion, for she had determined to set off her 
 beauty with a charming dress. It was white, profusely 
 trimmed with Yalenciennes lace and adorned with natural 
 roses. The corsage, cut low in front, was somewhat higher 
 behind, but it allowed a full view of her superb shoulders ; 
 while the whiteness of her skin was enhanced by a garland of 
 roses, which starting from above her arm trailed downwards 
 round her skirt, impregnating her whole person with a deli- 
 cious perfume. Her lovely golden hair, caught up on the top 
 of her head, so as to display her snowy neck, had no other 
 adornment than a bunch of roses. But she looked so beauti- 
 ful, thus attired, that Brigitte and Suzanne, who had dressed 
 her, could not help clapping their hands with admiration. 
 Claire glanced gratefully at the looking-glass, and then, as it 
 was time to show herself, she went downstairs, quivering 
 with emotion. 
 
 In the grand Louis-Quatorze reception room, which was 
 brilliant with the light of the chandeliers, Philippe, already 
 attired [in evening dress, was talking to the Baron, who stiU 
 wore a morning jacket and displayed a remarkably yeUow pair 
 of hands. As the Baroness entered the drawing-room with 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 307 
 
 Claire, and cauglit sight of her husband in this condition, she 
 raised a cry of consternation. '' Good heavens ! " she exclaimed, 
 *' why are you in such a state at this hour? "What hands 
 you have ! " 
 
 ''Excuse me, my dear," replied the Baron, flushing like a 
 schoolboy caught tripping, "but I stopped rather late in the 
 laboratory and accidentally upset a bath of iodine, which 
 slightly stained my fingers " 
 
 " Slightly ! " cried Madame de Prefont. " But it's horrible 
 You are not presentable. You look like a photographer." 
 
 The Baron began to laugh. " Oh, I can assure you it will 
 wash off easily enough." And so saying he moved towards 
 his wife. 
 
 " Oh ! don't come near me ! " she exclaimed, stepping back 
 with fright. " I've a new dress on. Make haste and go and 
 dress, you have only just the time." 
 
 Delighted to find himself let off so easily, the Baron glided 
 from the drawing-room like a sylph. 
 
 Philippe was looking at Claire as she approached him in all 
 the splendour of her beauty. She was radiant, and no trace of 
 care could be detected on her face. In the depths of his heart 
 the ironmaster could not help admiring his wife's strength of 
 mind. She was really valiant, he thought, and he was pleased 
 to see her discharge her duties so brilliantly. "With a smile 
 that made her turn pale with delight he walked towards her 
 holding a black leather jewel-case stamped with the initials 
 CD. 
 
 "You are not very rich in jewellery," he said, as he bowed to 
 her. " At the time of our marriage I was not able to purchase 
 all I wished for you. Allow me to repair this negligence." 
 And so saying he offered her the jewel-case. 
 
 Claire was so surprised that she hesitated to take it ; but 
 
308 THE ironmaster; 
 
 the Baroness eagerly snatclied it from Philippe, opened it, and 
 drew forth a marvellous diamond necklace which she gazed at 
 with cries of rapture as it scintillated in the light of the 
 chandeliers. 
 
 ''Oh, my dear!" said she. ''Just look at it. It is a 
 princely present ! " 
 
 Claire's brow lowered. Yes, it was a princely present. But 
 the young wife was thinking of the forty thousand francs in 
 gold, the assumed interest of her dowry, which were sleeping 
 in a drawer of the handsome ebony coffer in her bedroom. 
 She added them to the enormous sum which this necklace 
 must have cost, and she felt profoundly humiliated. What 
 a lesson of generosity Philippe taught her ! Her supreme 
 argument had been money, and yet he spent it with regal 
 indifference, seemingly careless of possessing it, although he 
 had only earned it by long and patient toil. 
 
 " Come, Philippe, it is for you to^attach this badge of slavery- 
 It is the very least you can do," said the Baroness mali- 
 ciously ; and then turning towards her husband, who was now 
 entering the room clad in full evening dress, " I say, my dear," 
 she added gaily, "you are always looking for little pebbles — 
 well, try and find me some of the same water as these." 
 
 Meanwhile, as with trembling hands the ironmaster fastened 
 the scintillating brilliants around his wife's neck, his fingers 
 came in contact with her soft white skin, and he noticed that 
 she quivered as he touched her. 
 
 "Come, come," said the Baroness, "a kiss is the rule 
 
 on such a day as this " And she maliciously pushed 
 
 Claire into Philippe's arms. He turned as pale as death, 
 and with his eye bedimmed and his throat contracted by emo- 
 tion — asking himself with agony if he were going to faint — 
 he touched his wife's forehead with his lips and imprinted on 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 309 
 
 it a cold and yet a longed-for kiss. Then as if lie feared he 
 should be unable to remain master of himself, he tore himself 
 away and abruptly left the room. 
 
 Claire had not been able, so far, to form a true estimate 
 of her husband's important position. Wherever they went 
 together she had seen him welcomed with marked courtesy 
 and deference ; but it was on receiving all the notabilities of 
 the Department in her own drawing-room that she realised 
 for the first time what weighty influence the ironmaster dis- 
 posed of. Among the guests invited to the dinner one must 
 mention M. Monicaud, the chameleon-like Eepublican Pre- 
 fect, who was wont to tone down his opinions whenever he 
 went into society ; the PubKc Prosecutor, who was remark- 
 able for the solemnity of his bearing ; the Treasurer-Paymaster 
 of the Department, an amiable ex-viveur ; and the General 
 commanding the division : in fact, all the civil and military 
 authorities. In addition there was the Archbishop of Besan- 
 9on, Monseigneur Fargis, to whom Philippe had presented 
 some admirable altar-gates, and who as a rule declined all 
 invitations. Seated on Claire's right hand, the venerable 
 prelate smilingly affronted the presence of Monsieur le Prefet 
 of the Doubs, who had so rigourously expelled the monks 
 from their monasteries. 
 
 Athenais, who felt fairly upset with envy, was present at 
 her rival's triumph, as encouraged for the first time by her 
 husband's glance Claire had regained full confidence, and 
 conversed with sparkling wit, finding the right words to 
 flatter each of her guests in turn. She felt that Philippe 
 admired her, and eager to please him she displayed all the 
 attainments of her really superior mind. The Duke was 
 struck by her radiant beauty, indeed quite fascinated, and he 
 gazed at her with unfeigned admiration. In fact, he did not 
 
310 THE ironmaster; 
 
 sufficiently conceal his feelings. With his eyes fixed upon 
 Claire, he forgot everybody else, and such was his passionate 
 excitement that he abandoned all restraint. He did not notice 
 that Philippe was watching him with threatening attention ; 
 and indeed, after all, what did he care for a husband ? It had 
 long been known that he was not merely a man to rob a hus- 
 band of his honour, but one to take that husband's life as 
 well. 
 
 Although Moulinet was mainly occupied in insinuating 
 himself into the good graces of the Prefect — who played such 
 a good knife and fork that it was easy to see he had not 
 always lived on the fat of the land — he was nevertheless 
 greatly struck by Bligny's attitude. He had already noticed 
 that the Duke paid far too much attention to Claire, and 
 although as a rule he did not attach much importance to the 
 flirtations of young men, he became in the present instance 
 extremely nervous. The fact is, the ironmaster was a power 
 in the Department, and it was particularly advisable for Mou- 
 linet to win at least his tacit good-will, in view of the elections. 
 So the chocolate-maker decided that he would have a little 
 private talk with his son-in-law at the first opportunity. 
 
 The Duchess, who was seated near Philippe, tried to attract 
 his attention by her chatter, but she found him cold, absent- 
 minded, and preoccupied. The Marquise de Beaulieu, who 
 occupied a place of honour on the ironmaster's right hand, 
 was greatly worried by the heat of the chandeliers, and paid 
 but little attention to what was going on, being mainly occu- 
 pied in fanning herself. Philippe, who constantly had to 
 keep up the conversation, and pay attention to everybody, 
 suffered horribly when he noticed the manner in which the 
 Duke was looking at Claire. It seemed to him as if Bligny 
 sullied his wife's white shoulders with shameful caresses as 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 311 
 
 he gazed at them so wantonly, and he felt positively enraged. 
 He endured, in fact, all the torments of jealousy, and gloated 
 over the idea of killing this man, who after having already 
 harmed him so much was still intent on torturing him. He 
 was wearied by Athenais's futile prattle and her attempts to 
 monopolise him, and he longed to be delivered of this odious 
 couple. He remembered how his wife had entreated him to 
 free her from the Duke and Duchess, and he realised how 
 great her distress must be, exposed as she was to the wife's 
 hatred and the husband's passion. He decided he would 
 deliver her from both of them. But it was not enough to 
 keep the Duke at a distance now ; he hated him too much. 
 
 Philippe heaved a sigh of relief when the dinner came to 
 an end, and the guests walked out on to the terrace to enjoy 
 the fresh evening air. A charming surprise was awaiting 
 Claire. The clumps of trees in the park were all illuminated, 
 and festoons of flowers hung over the front of the chateau. 
 
 Moulinet, who had ransacked his conservatories for the 
 occasion, now presented a basket of gilded rushwork, fully 
 three yards across, which was full of beautiful orchids of 
 every possible variety. Several of the guests complimented 
 him on his lovely present, whereupon he whispered with 
 assumed carelessness, ^' My gardener tore his hair when he 
 saw the basket leave La Yarenne." 
 
 Still, much as'the chocolate-maker liked receiving compli- 
 ments, he did not lose sight of his son-in-law, who by a skilful 
 manoeuvre had succeeded in isolating Claire and blockading 
 her in a corner. There these two beings, who once had loved 
 each other so sincerely, smiKngly exchanged the most dan- 
 gerous words. . The impassioned Duke, who was anxious to 
 induce his cousin to look favourably on his suit, praised her 
 beauty and expatiated on his love. Claire, on the other hand, 
 
312 THE ironmaster; 
 
 tried to free herself from this tete-a-tete, which made her 
 tremble, and growing more and more exasperated, she gradu- 
 ally raised her voice, at the risk even of attracting Philippe's 
 attention. Thereupon Bligny changed his tactics, and becoming 
 unctuous and gentle, merely spoke of friendship. He begged 
 Claire to shake hands with him as a token of forgiveness, but 
 all the while his eyes — belieing his language — sparkled with 
 intense passion. He gradually drew nearer, and at one mo- 
 ment, emboldened by the obscurity, he approached so close to 
 Claire that she exclaimed, '' Take care ! If you do not leave 
 me I will call my husband, even at the risk of a scandal ! " 
 
 The Duke's conduct had raised her excitement to the 
 highest pitch, and there is no telling what might have 
 happened if succour had not arrived appropriately enough in 
 the form of Moulinet. With a smile on his face he walked 
 towards Claire and Bligny, and, to the great annoyance of his 
 son-in-law, opened a conversation with one of those common- 
 place remarks in which' he excelled. '' How lovely the sky 
 is," he exclaimed, with an inspired air. '^This is the first 
 quarter of the moon. We shall have fine weather all the 
 week." 
 
 The Duke looked askance at Moulinet, whilst Claire, taking 
 advantage of the diversion, made oflP with a sigh of relief. 
 Bligny turned to follow her, but with a solemn gesture his 
 father-in-law restrained him. Taking Gaston by the arm, 
 the chocolate-maker led him to the edge of the sheet of water, 
 and then, as they found themselves in comparative privacy, 
 he commenced speaking as follows: "I am sorry to see, 
 Monsieur le Due, that you abuse the good connection I 
 endeavour to keep up with Monsieur Derblay, to—" 
 
 t< To — ?" repeated the Duke, taking Moulinet's measure in 
 a remarkably impertinent manner. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 313 
 
 ''To begin with," exclaimed the ex-commercial judge, for 
 the first time losing patience, ''I must request you, my son- 
 in-law," and he emphasised the expression which was so 
 particularly distasteful to Bligny, * ' I must request you to 
 abandon the mocking tone which you invariably use in speak- 
 ing to me, and which I am by no mqgins disposed to submit to 
 any longer." . 
 
 ''Monsieur Moulinet revolts, and raises the standard of 
 commercial magistracy ! " exclaimed the Duke, laughing. 
 
 " Monsieur Moulinet considers that you behave altogether 
 improperly," rejoined the chocolate-maker in a louder tone, 
 ' ' both as regards himself and as regards your host, whose 
 wife you court in the most scandalous manner." 
 
 "Has madame your daughter done me the favour to 
 complain ? " asked the Duke, with an assumption of exag 
 gerated politeness which was even more galling than his 
 raillery. 
 
 "Well, no," replied Moulinet. "In fact, she doesn't seem 
 to care whether you are faithful or not, and I can't quite 
 understand her." 
 
 " Well then ? " asked the Duke ironically. 
 
 MouKnet struck an attitude, and with a crushing glance at 
 his son-in-law, "And morality, monsieur? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, morality ! The morality of the Eue des Lombards ! " 
 rejoined the Duke with a careless gesture. 
 
 Moulinet assumed an air of self-sufficiency. " The Eue 
 des Lombards has its merit," said he, " and you know some- 
 thing of it, too ! " 
 
 "Oh, fie! Monsieur Moulinet," cried the Duke. "Don't 
 jingle your ha'pence like that. ^We know that you are rich." 
 And again, taking the ex-judge's measure in a contemptuous 
 style, he added, " It's;^your_[only merit ; don't abuse it." 
 
 X 
 
314 THE ironmaster; 
 
 "In that case," rejoined Moulinet, losing tlie last semblance 
 of composure, " my merit has this advantage over yours, that 
 it increases every day. After all, it's too much kindness to 
 take any interest in you. Go on with your guilty enterprise. 
 The only result can be a quarrel with the husband, and I warn 
 you in advance that all my sympathies will be on his side." 
 
 "Much obliged," said the Duke. 
 
 " If he kills you," continued Moulinet, who grew more and 
 more animated as he talked, "you will only have what you 
 deserve." 
 
 " The judgment of God ! " 
 
 ' ' We will bury you, my daughter and I, and you shall 
 have a splendid funeral service on a par with my fortune, 
 and then we will go to Monaco, or the seaside, to weep for 
 you during the usual twelvemonth." 
 
 " In fact, something gay in the way of mourning." 
 
 " Disgusted with your profligacy " 
 
 • "Ah, come. Monsieur Moulinet, let us finish this ! " inter- 
 rupted the Duke haughtily ; " I don't ask advice and I don't 
 take lessons. Your pedantic cant amused me for a few 
 minutes, but that's quite enough." 
 
 " Very well, monsieur," said Moulinet, who was overawed 
 by the Duke's insolence. "Do as you please. I wash my 
 hands of the matter." And jerking his head in a dignified 
 manner, the worthy father-in-law walked away towards the 
 reception rooms. 
 
 A general stir had just taken place on the terrace. Whilst 
 Philippe was talking with the Prefect and the Public Prose- 
 cutor, Suzanne had darted towards him in a state of great 
 emotion and somewhat out of breath. " It's a deputation of 
 the workmen ! " she exclaimed. " There are ten of them, and 
 they ask permission to come in." 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 315 
 
 ''But that's capital!" cried the Prefect, whose demo- 
 cratic tendencies were aroused by the words '' a deputation 
 of workpeople." ^'A little j)opular demonstration, eh? 
 Perfect ! " 
 
 ''Our Prefect will be asking to have , the "Marseillaise" 
 played soon," muttered the Treasurer-Paymaster with a smile. 
 
 Meanwhile Philippe had gone towards the workmen. ''Ah, 
 it's you, Gobert!" said he, as he recognised his oldest fore- 
 man, who stood waiting, rigged out in his Sunday clothes, and 
 carrying his hat in one hand 'and a huge bouquet in the other. 
 " Come along, my worthy fellow ; and you, too, my friends." 
 
 But Gobert, a tall, white-haired old man, was apparently 
 unable to set his legs in motion, and it seemed as if the sight 
 of the elegant throng which was watching him from the 
 terrace had turned him to stone ; as though, indeed, he had 
 €ome face to face with the head of Medusa. "Go on," mut- 
 tered his comrades in the rear. " Go on, since it's you who've 
 got to speak." But altogether paralyzed by emotion, he stood 
 still there, with gaping mouth and open eyes, as motionless as 
 if he were rooted to the spot. 
 
 It was Suzanne who broke the spell, for, taking the old 
 workman, whom she had known ever since she was a child, 
 by the hand, she led him towards Claire. The foreman made 
 a, deep bow, and greatly agitated, seeking for his words 
 although he had learnt his little speech by heart, he at last 
 began as follows: "Since the master allows it, Madame 
 Derblay, wiU you condescend to accept this bouquet, which I 
 am charged to offer you in the name of all of us, with our 
 best wishes on your fete-day. You must know that there are 
 eighteen hundred of us here at Pont-Avesnes who owe every- 
 thing we have to your husband, who built us our houses, our 
 schools, and our infirmary, and who cares for us as if we were 
 
316 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Ms cliildren. And, do you see, we're grateful to you for 
 making him so happy ! " 
 
 Gob erf s emotion was so acute that the last words died 
 away in his throat. However, loud shouts of applause rent 
 the air, the Prefect giving the signal by clapping his hands as 
 he turned, with an approving smile, towards the young hus- 
 band and wife. Claire had started when she heard the old 
 foreman speak of the happiness Philippe owed to her. Thus 
 the same ironical praise came to her from all sides without 
 ceasing. 
 
 The applause had finished, but Gobert, although divested of 
 his bouquet, still stood, looking dreadfully uncomfortable, in 
 front of Monsieur and Madame Derblay. ''I've something 
 else to say," he resumed at last. "We're about to have a 
 general election." On hearing this Moulinet at once stepped 
 forward, as if there were some question of his own preten- 
 sions, while the Prefect drew himself erect and cast a com- 
 manding glance around. ''And we come," continued Gobert, 
 " to ask the master to stand for the circonscription of Pont- 
 Avesnes." 
 
 Moulinet heaved an immense sigh of relief. " The circon- 
 scription next to mine ! " he cried. " Bravo ! " 
 
 Meanwhile, as an echo to the old foreman's words, a storm 
 of hurrahs and exclamations had burst forth just outside the 
 front gates of the chateau. The workmen, with their wives 
 and daughters, all decked out in their Sunday clothes, were 
 assembled on the Place, watching the manifestation they had 
 prepared from afar. " Open the gates," cried Philippe, "and 
 let every one come in." A moment later a joyous throng 
 spread through the parterres into the park, under the many- 
 coloured Venetian lamps, which lit up the far -stretching 
 avenues and the secluded bowers adorned with statues. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 3l7 
 
 ^' These wortliy folks have had an excellent idea," said the 
 Prefect graciously. ''Monsieur Derhlay belongs to nis. He is 
 a Liberal in the most thorough meaning of the word. For all 
 of us his name implies science, probity, work, and liberty." 
 
 ''That's a candidature I'll second," repeated Moulinet. 
 * ' We shall secure the whole district between us. I'll wake 
 up my farmers. Committees, speeches, meetings — all that's 
 my business. "We shall have an easy victory." 
 
 " Upon my word, my dear Prefect, it seems to me we're 
 exercising a little official influence on the electors," exclaimed 
 a martial voice just behind the majestic Monicaud. The Pre- 
 fect turned round as if some one had trodden on his foot, and 
 found himself face to face with the General, who looked at him 
 ironically. However, the representative of the Minister of the 
 Interior contrived to smile at the representative of the Minister 
 of War. " Eh ! my dear General," said he, " after such a good 
 dinner one can't fight one's host at dessert, you know. The 
 stomach must be polite to its entertainer." Then, wheeling 
 round on his heels again, he muttered between his teeth, 
 " Dash that confounded pretorian ! " 
 
 Meanwhile Philippe was speaking. "I accept the honour 
 you do me, my friends," said he, "not out of ambition, for 
 you know that I scarcely seek for occasions to push myseK 
 forward, but in the hope that I may be able to be of use to you." 
 
 A loud tumult followed. Acclamations rose from the crowd, 
 and for a couple of minutes there was a frantic waving of hats 
 and caps. Then by degrees the noise subsided. Claire had 
 now stepped forward in her turn. "As for myself, my friends," 
 she said, " I thank you for your kind offer from the depths of 
 my heart. And as you are the oldest connected with the works, 
 Gobert, come and kiss me for yourself and your comrades." 
 
 Thereupon, graceful and smiling, she offered her cheek to 
 
318 THE ironmaster; 
 
 the old foreman, who had flushed scarlet iinder his white hair, 
 and seemed more ill at ease than ever. However, he timidly 
 approached and kissed his master's wife with as much precau- 
 tion as if her soft face had been one of the red-hot bars of iron 
 he had so often hammered out. *' Oh, madame," he said, ''the 
 Derblays were always noble folks, and you are worthy of 
 belonging to them ! " 
 
 Claire glanced at her husband triumphantly. It seemed to 
 her as if the old foreman's words had recoupled the links that 
 united her to Philippe. 
 
 Athenais was sneering, as she carried on a whispered con- 
 versation with La Brede and Du Tremblays. ''Dear me,'^ 
 she said, "it's altogether charming; we are swimming in 
 socialism." 
 
 A loud exclamation interrupted her. Philippe had just 
 given orders to have several casks of wine rolled to an open 
 space in the park, and had despatched a messenger for the 
 village band. A platform of planks was promptly improvised, 
 and hereupon the musicians began piping with their strident 
 instruments. Attracted by the noise, the winegrowers of the 
 surrounding slopes mingled with the working people, and the 
 old feud which had long divided the district into two hostile 
 camps seemed upon the point of subsiding. Gray and noisy 
 was the scene in the broad avenues, lighted up with many- 
 coloured lanterns which shone out like fantastic flowers amid 
 the dark masses of foliage. Like a flash of lightning amid 
 the darkness a bomb suddenly whizzed through the air, 
 bursting with a loud report and raining golden stars upon the 
 throng. It was the signal for a pyrotechnical display, which 
 the Baron had privately ordered. Then the rockets began to 
 soar through space, and the park was illuminated with the 
 verdant and ruddy glow of Bengal lights. The musicians 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 319 
 
 had ceased playing, and with, their instruments on their knees 
 
 they watched from their platform, as from the grand tier in a 
 
 theatre, the capricious course of the flying squibs and the 
 
 leaping lights of the Eoman candles. 
 
 As an appropriate accompaniment young Du Tremblays 
 
 began humming in a shrill voice the opening lines of the weU- 
 
 known song — 
 
 "Little Peter, lift me up, 
 Wlien I see the flying squib." 
 
 While the Prefect, turning towards Moulinet, enthusiastically 
 remarked, ^'Do you see what a fine effect those red Bengal 
 lights have ! Ah, red is a beautiful colour ! " 
 
 '' I also like the green fire very much," replied the ex-judge, 
 who had failed to grasp the allusion. 
 
 '^ Green's the colour of hope," said the departmental Trea- 
 surer, turning graciously to Moulinet and bowing. 
 
 This time the Duchess's father understood. He was always 
 lucid when his own interests were concerned, and he looked 
 benevolently at the ex-viveur, and decided that he was really 
 a very well-bred man. The Treasurer, by the way, possessed 
 the finest pair of horses in the Department. 
 
 ''Well, Monsieur Moulinet," asked the Baron, who now 
 approached, ''how are you getting on? You look de- 
 lighted." 
 
 "Yes, Baron," replied the ex- judge confidingly. "This 
 luxury, these fetes, this animation, all delight me. I was 
 born for high life, and my tastes protest against the injustice 
 of my birth." 
 
 "Your wit would suffice to make it forgotten," said Pre- 
 font, with imperturbable coolness. 
 
 A ruddy glow now spread over the sky. The set pieces 
 were being illuminated, and under a flaming portico there 
 
£20 THE ironmaster; 
 
 appeared a Kttle cLild — indicated in outline with rosy fire — 
 "wlio was crowning a woman delineated with white lights. 
 ^'Love crowning Industry!" exclaimed the Baron, who 
 thought it necessary to explain the allegory. 
 
 ''An old acquaintance," muttered the majestic Monicaud 
 to the Public Prosecutor. ''Last year when I was Sub-Prefect 
 at Neufchatel, they served us the pink child and the white 
 woman on the night of the national fete, and they called the 
 group, ' The Future crowning France.' " 
 
 " And I," said the Treasurer of the Department gaily, "I 
 gaw it some years ago at a display of fireworks at Yille 
 d'Avray, in honour of Dr. Thomson, the illustrious accoucheur. 
 On that occasion the group was entitled, ' Infancy crowning 
 Medical Science.' " 
 
 A loud noise, followed by dazzling refulgency, interrui3ted 
 the conversation. The "bouquet" was mounting like a 
 flaming sheaf towards the sky, where it stretched out over 
 the spectators like a vault of fire. Blackened sticks then 
 rained upon the foremost of the throng, amid shouts of 
 laughter and alarm. At last the sky grew dark again, and 
 the park became more obscure in the soft glow of the 
 Venetian lamps. At the same moment, as if some invisible 
 hand had given the signal, the musicians struck up the 
 opening bars of a quadrille. Then, as the throng was hushed, 
 a lad could be heard exclaiming in a mocking tone, " Take 
 your places for the contredanse.''^ 
 
 Athenais was suddenly seized with a grisette's fancy, with 
 a mad longing to go and dance in the midst of all these 
 peasants, and turning with bright eyes and glowing cheeks 
 towards Philippe, she leant forward, exclaiming, "Oh, Mon- 
 sieur Derblay, let us open this garden dance together! It 
 wiU be delightful. Come, you shaU dance with me ! " 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 321 
 
 Philippe remained motionless, hesitating between the wish 
 to refuse and the fear of se.eming impolite. He exchanged a 
 glance with Claire. She had turned pale on witnessing the 
 Duchess's provoking audacity, and judged that the cup was 
 full. Besides, she had vowed to herself that she would not 
 allow Athenais to monopolise Philippe again. Still she was 
 undecided as to the right course to take, for she feared to dis- 
 please her husband. But at that moment she heard the Duke's 
 hated voice beside her. " You see ? " he muttered in a tone 
 of raillery, at the same time calling Claire's attention to 
 Athenais, who was leaning towards Philippe and looking at 
 him coquettishly. 
 
 Claire quivered with grief and shame. Her sufferings were 
 increased tenfold by the Duke's imprudent intervention. At 
 this precise moment, as if their destiny were now to be decided, 
 Philippe's eyes met hers, and she read in them so much con- 
 straint and such intense lassitude, that, impelled as it were by 
 an irresistible power, she took a few steps forward and touched 
 Athenais lightly on the arm just as she was repeating, '' Come, 
 shall we open the ball together ? " 
 
 ''Excuse me if I spoil your plans," exclaimed Claire, 
 coldly. '' But I should like to speak to you for a moment." 
 
 ''Speak to me ? " replied the Duchess with mingled sur- 
 prise and annoyance. " What, now, at once ? " 
 
 " Yes, at once," insisted Madame Derblay. 
 
 " It is something urgent then ? " 
 
 " Very urgent." 
 
 Athenais gave her enemy a searching look, but Claire met 
 her gaze with such firmness that she lowered her eyes, feeling 
 strangely upset, and divining some serious complication. 
 ^' What is the matter, dear ? " she asked in a mellifluous voice, 
 at the same time trying to take hold of Claire's hand. 
 
322 THE ironmaster; 
 
 " Follow me and you shall know," replied Madame 
 Derblay sternly ; and without adding a word, without turn- 
 ing towards Philippe, resolute if palpitating, she conducted 
 Athenais to the little drawing-room, which was unoccupied. 
 
 They remained for a moment standing, like two adversaries 
 about to close and struggle. Under the trees in the distance 
 the improvised orchestra was just beginning to play, and the 
 hum and buzz of the gay throng were wafted confusedly to 
 the chateau. All the guests had gone into the park, and 
 Athenais and Claire found themselves once more face to face, 
 alone, and dependent on their own resources. 
 
 *' Let us sit down," said Madame Derblay curtly. 
 
 ''It will be long, then?" rejoined the Duchess with 
 an impertinent yawn, which she made little pretence of 
 repressing. 
 
 '' I hope not," replied Claire. 
 
 Athenais installed herself in an arm-chair, and stretching 
 out her legs, began to contemplate the jet ornaments on one 
 of her shoes, making them scintillate in the light of the 
 chandeliers, and apparently attaching no importance at all to 
 what Claire might have to tell her. 
 
 "I have a favour to ask of you," resumed Madame 
 Derblay. 
 
 ''Am I so happy as to be able to oblige you?" asked 
 Athenais nonchalantly. 
 
 "Yes. The other day at the paperchase in the forest, 
 when you took my husband away with you, you asked me if 
 I were not displeased, if I were not a little jealous " 
 
 The Duchess tapped the floor with her heel and answered, 
 "I was joking! " 
 
 " Well, you did wrong to think it a joke^" declared Madame 
 Derblay, " for you spoke the truth." 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 323 
 
 AtlLenais, who was greatly astonished, sat up in her chair, 
 and put herself on her guard. " You, jealous ? " she said. 
 
 '^Yes." 
 
 ^' Jealous of me ? " insisted the Duchess. 
 
 ''Yes, of you," repeated Claire, and with a constrained 
 smile she added, ''You see that I am frank. It seems to me 
 that my hushand j)ays you more attention than is right, and 
 so I address myself direct to you, to ask you to put a stop to a 
 — flirtation, which you certainly attach no importance to, but 
 which is very painful for me." 
 
 '* Oh, my dear!" cried Athenais, turning towards Claire 
 with a vivacity that seemed to betoken the most affectionate 
 interest. " What ! you were suffering and you said nothing 
 about it ? But do you not rather exaggerate ? I don't recol- 
 lect anything that could have really worried you. Monsieur 
 Derblay is very amiable ; he seems to like to talk to me, but 
 there is nothing surprising in this sympathy between relatives 
 and certainly nothing criminal " 
 
 "It makes me suffer ! " insisted Claire. 
 The little Duchess drew herself up and answered in a cut- 
 ting tone, " But, my dear, you must apply to your husband for 
 the remedy. I can't furnish it." 
 
 '*' Yes, you can put a stoj) to this intercourse." 
 Athenais sank back languidly in her arm-chair. She now 
 realised what Claire was driving at. She wished her to dis- 
 arm. Accordingly, subduing the bitterness of her voice, and 
 speaking with an amenity which was even more exasperating 
 than her previous arrogance, she replied, "But how can I do 
 that ? By giving your husband the cold shoulder ? By being 
 impolite to him ? In the first place it would be a very dis- 
 agreeable part for me to play ; and besides, do you think it 
 would be a very efficacious remedy?" She smiled as she 
 
32i THE ironmaster; 
 
 spoke, with, the bravado of a woman who is confident of her 
 power. 
 
 '^But that is not what I have to propose to you," rejoined 
 Claire with quiet serenity. 
 
 '' What have you to propose, then ? " 
 
 Madame Derblay hesitated for one moment, and then 
 boldly replied, " That you should keep away from our 
 house for some time." 
 
 Athenais bounded from her chair, and, ceasing to control 
 herself, exclaimed, " What ! you think of proposing that ! " 
 
 ''Yes," answered Claire in a gentle voice, which was in 
 striking contrast with her rival's bitterness. "And it is in a 
 tone of entreaty that I make this request. Say I am mad, if 
 you like, but do as I ask. It is a question of my happiness." 
 
 " But on what pretence would you have me keep away?" 
 rejoined Athenais. "What would people say of such a 
 sudden separation ? Wouldn't it look like a quarrel, like a 
 rupture ? " 
 
 " We will find some satisfactory explanation for it." 
 
 Athenais was greatly embarrassed by the manner in which 
 Claire insisted on this question. She fancied that Madame 
 Derblay was stronger than she had believed, and she imagined 
 that everything would be lost if she made the least concession. 
 Accordingly she took the bull by the horns. " We might not 
 succeed," she said; "and that would be disastrous for me. 
 You have been frank, and now I will be frank as well. I am 
 a new-comer in the society to which the Due de Bligny has 
 introduced me ; I please myseK in it ; I wish to keep the place 
 I have already won. But, as you know, folks are very 
 punctilious, and, as you will understand, if my husband's 
 family treated me coldly people would find an opportunity for 
 disparaging remarks — there are so many who are jealous of 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 325- 
 
 me — and then good-bye to my dreams ! If you have your love 
 to think of, I — I have my ambition. I can understand your 
 shielding the one, but allow me to defend the other." 
 
 Claire began to tremble with very rage. She could hardly 
 control herself. She was seized with a longing to spring upon 
 this miserable woman and crush her. ''So, you refuse?" 
 she asked in a muffled voice. 
 
 "Unwillingly, yes. But come, conscientiously, put your- 
 self in my place ! " And the irony of her words was so acute 
 that Athenais could not restrain a smile. 
 
 Claire stepped forward, and, ceasing to control her anger, 
 "Put myself in your place!" she fiercely said, "it is you 
 who have put yourself in mine, and wish to do so again 1 
 Ever since I have known you you have pursued me with your 
 envy and your hatred! As a girl you robbed me of my 
 betrothed ; as a woman you try to steal my husband from 
 me ! I did not know how to keep the former, but I shall 
 know how to wrest the latter from you." 
 
 " Ah ! So it's like that ! " cried Athenais, turning pale with 
 rage. " Well, let it' be so ! Let us raise the mask. To teU 
 the truth, I am tired of dissimulation. Yes, since my child- 
 hood I pay you back in hatred for aU the contempt which you 
 and your friends heaped upon me. For ten years you crushed 
 me with your name, your fortune, and your wit ! Well, see ! 
 To-day I have millions of my own, I am a Duchess, and you 
 are reduced to beg my mercy ! " 
 
 " Take care ! " said Claire, " I am not of a nature to allow 
 myself to be insultQd with impunity." 
 
 "And I," rejoined the Duchess, "I bear a name which 
 sets me above the reach of your rage ! " 
 
 "I will appeal against your conduct towards me." 
 
 "And to whom ? " asked Athenais with a sneer. 
 
326 THE ironmaster; 
 
 ''To society." 
 
 '' To what society ? To yours, which I have risen to ? Or 
 to mine, which you have fallen to ? " 
 
 " To that society — no matter what it be — which comprises 
 honest people who consider it a duty to respect others, and a 
 right to insure respect for themselves. In that society, you 
 hear me, I will repeat aloud what I have just told you. I 
 will show you as you really are. And we shall see if the 
 name you bear, however great it may be, will suffice to hide 
 your baseness and your falseness." 
 
 The Duchess tried to reply, but she sought in vain for 
 words in her envenomed heart. She could only hiss. Still, 
 although reduced to silence, she was endeavouring at least to 
 make an insulting gesture, when she saw Claire standing 
 before her, looking so threatening, with ardent eyes and 
 <3^uivering hands, that she suddenly felt frightened. She 
 stepped back, and in a low voice said, '' So it is a scandal 
 you are seeking to create ? " 
 
 ''It's an execution I mean to carry out. For the last time, 
 will you consent to what I ask ? " 
 
 " No ! a hundred times, no ! " answered Athenais, grinding 
 her teeth. 
 
 " Then you shall see." 
 
 Footsteps were grating over the gravel, and a hum of merry 
 voices was wafted through the open windows of the drawing- 
 room. Suddenly Philippe appeared, coming up the steps with 
 the Baroness on his arm. The Duke followed, laughing, with 
 La Brede, in front of Moulinet, who had attached himself to 
 the Baron. They perceived Claire and Athenais standing, 
 pale and quivering, face to face, in so significant an attitude, 
 that one and all stopped short in stupefaction. Then, with 
 her head erect, sure of her conscience, strong in the suifering* 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 327 
 
 she had endured, Claire advanced to tlie centre of the room, 
 and pointed to Athenais with a crushing gesture. 
 
 " Duke," she exclaimed, ''take your wife away, if you do 
 not wish me to have her turned out of the house in presence 
 of everyone ! " 
 
 Bligny remained impassive. Merely a pale smile stole over 
 his lips. But Moulinet, who could not believe his ears, 
 sprang forward, with a haggard face and upraised arms. 
 ''Turn my daughter, the Duchess, my daughter, out of the 
 house ! " he repeated emphatically, as if the entire aristocracy 
 of France had been insulted in the person of Madame de 
 Bligny. 
 
 But Athenais had already turned towards the Duke. 
 " Monsieur ! " she cried, in a piercing voice, " will you allow 
 me to be insulted in this manner without defending me ? " 
 
 With perfect composure Bligny took a couple of steps 
 forward in Philippe's direction. "Do you approve, mon- 
 sieur," he asked, " of what Madame Derblay has said to the 
 Duchess ? Are you disposed to apologise, or are you ready 
 to accept the responsibility ? " 
 
 These words were clear, polite, and as trenchant as steel. 
 
 Claire looked at her husband in agony. Would he disavow 
 her, or openly take her side? For a moment she endured 
 horrible suspense, and suffered more acutely, perhaps, than 
 she had ever suffered before. 
 
 But on hearing Bligny the ironmaster had come forward. 
 His stalwart form rose up in all its masculine vigour, and it 
 could be seen that he was a full head taller than the Duke. 
 In a grave voice, and with an energy which made everybody 
 present start, he answered, "Monsieur le Due, whatever 
 Madame Derblay may do, whatever reason she may have for 
 doing it, I consider everything she does as well done." 
 
328 THE ironmaster; OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 
 
 The Duke bowed in an incomparably elegant style, and, 
 turning to La Brede, lie made Mm a sign and said, '' That's 
 settled." Tben offering his arm to Athenais, who seemed 
 overwlielmed, he left the room followed by Moulinet, now 
 fairly crazy, and by his faithful lieutenant, La Brede, wbo 
 muttered between bis teeth, '^ A nasty affair, and no mis- 
 take. Two cousins! Bligny is the offended one. He'll 
 choose pistols. The ironmaster is a dead man ! " 
 
 As Claire witnessed tbe departure of ber rival, thus 
 humiliated and vanquished, sbe did not tbink of the terrible 
 consequences ber audacity would entail. She raised a cry 
 of triumpb, and approaching her busband with passionate 
 gratitude, ''Oh, tbank you Philippe!" sbe cried, stretching 
 out ber arms. But in a moment ber ardour abandoned ber, 
 for sbe saw tbat ber busband bad become impassive again. 
 
 "You owe me no thanks," said be. "I defended my 
 bonour in defending you." And then perceiving tbat Claire 
 remained silent and grave, be added, ''Do not forget tbat you 
 have guests to attend to here. No one must be allowed to 
 suspect what bas just happened." 
 
 Witb tbese words he offered bis arm to tbe Baroness, wbose 
 nerves were so upset that she was tempted to laugh and cry 
 at tbe same time. Claire wiped away a tear tbat was gliding 
 down ber cheek, and smiKng sadly at tbe Baron, who bad 
 remained beside ber, "Come," sbe said, "since it must be 
 so, let us go and dance ! " 
 
XVTII. 
 
 Claire found the night a terribly long one. On returning 
 to her room she realised the full gravity of the situation 
 and felt frightened. She had certainly the right to act as 
 she had done. Braved, threatened, outraged in her own 
 home by a pitiless foe, she had revolted and driven 
 her from the house. But, on the other hand, her private 
 quarrel had become a general one. Her husband had been 
 obliged to take her part and enter the lists against the Duke. 
 She remembered how significantly Bligny had smiled as he 
 said, '' That's settled," and she shuddered at the recollection. 
 She knew what a dangerous adversary the Duke was ; and 
 she realised that Philippe would find himself in imminent 
 danger if a duel really took place. Late in the evening she 
 had caught sight of Octave and the Baron conferring with 
 La Brede and M oulinet. She had questioned her brother, but 
 he had answered her evasively, with a constrained air, declar- 
 ing that the negotiations would lead to an arrangement — a 
 compromise. 
 
 Claire asked herself if any compromise were possible be- 
 tween these two men, who hated each other so intensely. The 
 Duke had clearly defined the situation when he demanded 
 either an apology or a recognition of responsibility — in other 
 words, satisfaction. Now the young wife did not for one 
 moment entertain the thought that her husband would 
 
 Y 
 
330 . THE ironmaster; 
 
 apologise : hence there was but one solution possible — 
 a duel. 
 
 Claire sprang from a brave race, and her feminine ancestors 
 had never shrunk from the clash of arms. Her grandmother, 
 a Bligny, had scoured the wilds of La Vendee with Stofflet's 
 bands, using her carbine to pick off the " Blues" '^' whenever 
 occasion required. When her father, the Marquis de Beaulieu^ 
 was only sixteen years old, he shut himself up at La Penissiere, 
 and was found, three days later, under the ruins of the farm, 
 with his arm shattered by a bullet. Now Claire was of a very 
 similar nature to her father, but though she did not fear 
 death herself, she was alarmed for Philippe. She felt super- 
 stitious moreover, and imagined that Fate had marked her 
 marriage with the ironmaster with a black cross. She had 
 a presentiment that if her husband fought he would be 
 killed ; and frightful visions passed before her eyes. She 
 seemed to see Philippe stretched dead upon the blood-stained 
 grass, and the Duke standing erect near by, holding his still 
 smoking pistol, and laughing a wicked laugh. Why pistols 
 — why use such dangerous weapons? It was in vain that 
 she tried to persuade herself that perhaps they would fight 
 with swords. Still and ever in her vision, she saw the two 
 men with pistols in their hands ; she heard the report of both 
 weapons ; a puff of blue smoke rose upwards, and Philippe, 
 struck in the heart, fell heavily on to the grass. 
 
 She tried to free herself from this nightmare, which had 
 seized hold of her although she was awake, and she went 
 towards the window. The air was balmy, and the clear sky 
 was radiant with stars. Among the trees of the park some of 
 the Venetian lanterns were still alight, and fanned by the 
 
 * The Eepublican troops, so called by the Eoyalist msurgents, on 
 account of the colour of their uniforms. — Trans. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 3^1 
 
 breeze they stood out like red spots in the darkness. To 
 Claire's horror, it seemed as if these red spots were stains 
 of blood; and she hastily closed the window again, and 
 drew the curtains so as to shut out the view of this dreadful 
 glow. She paced round the room, pensive and absorbed, 
 revolving her lugubrious apprehensions in her mind. ''I 
 bring woe to all who surround me," she exclaimed aloud, and 
 the sound of her voice, breaking the silence, absolutely 
 frightened her. She stretched herself on the sofa and tried 
 to read, but in vain, for it seemed to her as if a bell were 
 ringing in her ears, like some funereal knell. Then she 
 felt anxious with regard to what Philippe was doing, and 
 crossing the little drawing-room on tiptoe, she approached 
 the door of her husband's bedroom. All was dark and silent 
 — not a ray of light, not a sound. She thought that he was 
 sleeping, and this surmise in some measure reassured her. 
 Returning to her own room, she passed the rest of the night 
 awake, in alternate fits of hope and despair. 
 
 Philippe was not in bis room and he was not sleeping. He 
 had shut himself up in his study, situated on the ground floor 
 immediately under Claire's bedroom. He was aware that the 
 duel he was about to fight with the Duke would be a serious 
 one. A conference had taken place the same evening be- 
 tween the four seconds, and the situation, though grave, was 
 so simple that an understanding had been promptly arrived 
 at. Despite the imploring supplications of M. Moulinet, 
 who wished to avoid a duel at any price, an appointment had 
 been made for eight o'clock on the following morning. The 
 chosen meeting place was situated between the woods of La 
 Varenne and those of Pont-Avesnes, at an equal distance from 
 the two chateaux. It was indeed that same Eond-Point des 
 Etangs, which only a few days previously had re-echoed to the 
 
&32 THE IRONMASTER ; 
 
 joyous cries and laugliter of tlie hunters partaking of their 
 sumptuous lunch. The Duke had chosen pistols, the distance 
 was to be thirty paces, and the adversaries were to fire at will. 
 Philippe accepted these conditions without reluctance ; he had 
 scarcely ever practised pistol shooting, but he was a first-rate 
 shot with a rifle, and feeling sure of his coup d'ceil, he thought 
 to himself, with savage joy, that if he risked being killed him- 
 self, at least he would have the opportunity of killing his 
 hated adversary. It was impossible to tell in advance which 
 of the two opponents would prove the victor, for they were 
 endowed with equal courage and tried calmness ; but on the 
 other hand it was well-nigh certain that one or the other of 
 them would succumb. 
 
 Alone — having, perhaps, only a few hours to live — Philippe 
 gave way to meditation, and passed his conduct in review. 
 One thought sorely troubled him : he feared he had shown 
 himself too hard towards Claire. At this supreme hour he was 
 seized with profound pity for the poor woman who had washed 
 her guilt away in her own tears. He saw that she was now 
 really his. The haughty bride, who had so roughly repelled 
 him, had become a tender, humble, devoted wife. The hard 
 trial he had imposed upon her was completed, and he had the 
 right to believe that if he survived she would belong to him 
 heart and soul, and that if he died his memory would abide 
 with her imperishably. 
 
 This was the object he had always had in view. He had 
 attained it without going beyond, and he felt calmer as he came 
 to this conclusion. He did not regret that he had so incessantly 
 hammered his wife's bronze nature so as to fashion it to his 
 liking. He considered that the result he had obtained would 
 guarantee Claire's happiness, if Fate were propitious and he 
 returned alive. She would surely have been unhappy had she 
 been abandoned to herself, with her moral sense in such conf u- 
 
on, LOVE AND PRIDE. 333 
 
 sion. She was too intelligent not to understand that her life 
 was wrecked, and too proud to confess that the fault was en- 
 tirely her own ; and thus she would have lived on, devoured 
 by bitter rancour and a prey to sterile regret. The lesson he 
 had given her was bound to be a salutary one. She had 
 reflected, sought for the right path, and by dint of efforts 
 conquered herself. She was now ripe for happiness. But 
 alas ! at the very moment when her regeneration was com- 
 pleted, when the future stretched out before her so full of 
 smiles, adverse fate might plunge her back into despair. 
 
 The noise of footsteps resounding over Philippe's head 
 suddenly broke the stillness of the night and made him start. 
 He listened. It was a regular, continuous, seemingly auto- 
 matic tread — the tread of the unhappy woman who was 
 suffering such cruel agony, and who, although only separated 
 from him by a mere flooring, was completely isolated by his 
 implacable will. As Philippe heard the floor creak he divined 
 how horrible Claire's agitation must be. He could picture 
 her turning round and round the room with haggard eyes, 
 contracted features, and trembling hands ; with that wild air 
 which, as he had often remarked, always came over her in 
 acute moments of grief or anger. His heart began to expand, 
 and for the first time he felt weak at the thought of his love. 
 His temples beat precipitately, his throat tightened, and he was 
 seized with an all-powerful desire to go and join this woman 
 he adored and who was yet a maiden. Like a child, he gave 
 himself all sorts of reasons to justify this resolution. Would 
 it not be mad to risk death before taking her in his arms and 
 covering the perfumed tresses of her golden hair with kisses ? 
 He had but to say a word, and she would fall upon his heart. 
 Philippe took a few steps forward, and was already opening 
 the door, when his will, returning, restrained him. Surely he 
 was not going to give way to such degrading weakness. After 
 
334 THE ironmaster; 
 
 all tlie suffering lie had. endured, should lie be wanting in 
 courage at the last moment ? He had conquered and tamed 
 that woman, and now should he go and lower himself for the 
 sake of mere desire? The hour had struck when his life 
 would be morally and materially decided. If he survived, 
 Claire would belong to him entirely, without hesitation in the 
 present or fear in the future. If he died, she would remember 
 him as proud and implacable and truly great. Like a gambler, 
 he must risk the game. All or nothing. A lifetime of pure 
 happiness or cold and silent death. He made up his mind to 
 this alternative, and feeling thoroughly resolute he returned 
 and sat down at his writing-table. 
 
 Overhead Claire was still feverishly walking up and down. 
 Suddenly he heard her open the door, and furtively cross the 
 drawing-room towards his bed-chamber. A smile glided over 
 his face, and he listened attentively. A moment later Claire 
 crossed the drawing-room again, and returned to her own 
 apartment. Thus she had had a thought similar to his own, 
 and like himself she had abandoned it. He now realised 
 from what a pedestal he would have fallen had he gone 
 to her. He would have ceased to be a superior man, master- 
 ing everything by force of will; he would have seemed a 
 vulgar being at the mercy of his passions. 
 
 The first faint light of dawn reminded him of the prepara- 
 tions he had to make. In the event of his death he wished to 
 provide for his sister. He had been able to appreciate the 
 many sterling qualities of the young Marquis de Beaulieu. 
 He had divined that Octave was gifted with a true heart and 
 a serious mind. If he had given a refusal when Claire asked 
 him to bestow Suzanne's hand on her brother, it was only in 
 view of adhering faithfully to his conjugal tactics, and striking 
 a harder blow than all the others at his wife's heart. He had 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 335 
 
 realised that tlie decisive crisis was approacMng, and lie liad 
 determined to repair the wrong he was doing Octave as soon 
 as possible. Besides, Suzanne loved the Marquis; and Philippe's 
 heart melted at the thought of inflicting the least grief on 
 this dear child, who had been the happiness of his life. He 
 determined to marry her to the Marquis, and so as to give 
 additional solemnity to his consent, he framed it in a testa- 
 mentary form. Grave and thoughtful, he took every necessary 
 decision. He divided his fortune between Suzanne and Claire, 
 begging '^ his dear wife to accept her share, in memory of the 
 deep love he had borne her." Then he selected one of his 
 engineers, a talented and honest man, to manage the iron 
 works in the event of his demise ; and having thus provided 
 for everything, he thought of taking a little rest. It was 
 necessary he should have a firm hand and perfect vision. So 
 stretching himself on the broad leather divan, he heaved a 
 sigh and closed his eyes. 
 
 Meanwhile there was great emotion at the Chateau de la 
 Varenne. Athenais had returned from Pont-Avesnes in a 
 state of perfect fury. At the moment when the woman she 
 hated seemed finally crushed and at her mercy, a vigorous 
 blow had enabled her to rise erect again — haughty and trium- 
 phant. It was she, the Duchesse de Bligny, who had been 
 humiliated, vanquished, and driven from the house. And she 
 could not hide from herself that this rupture would do her 
 irreparable harm. All the Duke's relatives took Claire's 
 side. The motives of the duel would be made public, and 
 the story of how she had been expelled would be related, 
 commented, and enlarged upon by a society that hated her. 
 At this thought Athenais ground her teeth, and a longing for 
 carnage swelled her heart. She would have liked to have 
 been in the Duke's place, so as to have accomplished the 
 
336 THE ironmaster; 
 
 sanguinary business herself. Slie longed to see Claire a 
 widow. She pictured her, veiled, in mourning, with tears 
 streaming down her eyes, and cursing the hour when she had 
 insulted her. She thought to herself that by striking Madame 
 Derblay in the person of the husband she loved she would 
 inflict a blow on the very source of life itself. With a stri- 
 dent laugh she threw her gloves and her fan on the table of 
 the drawing-room which she had just entered, and then, 
 turning towards her father and her husband, who were 
 watching her in silence, " As for that man," she said, " that 
 man who defends the woman who insulted me, I must have 
 him killed." 
 
 There was a moment's stupefaction. Moidinet was thunder- 
 struck by his daughter's tragic exclamation ; the Duke was 
 astonished to find that his wife's hatred was as intense as his 
 own. Still he was displeased with her for having created a 
 scandal which had resulted, for them both, in such humiliat- 
 ing retirement. He blamed her for not having restrained 
 herself. Accustomed to the graceful perfidy and smiling 
 hatred of the aristocratic world, he considered that Athenais 
 was horribly vulgar and clumsy. And, besides, her Borgia- 
 like attitude thoroughly displeased him. Giving her a quiet 
 look, he lightly exclaimed, ' ' Kill the man ! You talk of it 
 as a settled matter, my dear. Such phrases are in their place 
 in a melodrama, but in ordinary life they are altogether 
 ridiculous. Eid yourself of big words and big gestures." 
 Then with a cold smile he added, " On the other hand, you 
 may be certain that I shall do my best to satisfy you." 
 
 *^ Allow me, Monsieur le Due," exclaimed Moulinet, 
 rousing himself from his meditation. ''Allow me. You 
 seem disposed to carry matters to such extremities " 
 
 *' Didn't you hear your daughter, my dear sir ? " answered 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 337 
 
 Bligny coldly. " Do jou tliink I am so careless of my duties 
 as not to defend my wife ? " 
 
 " That is not the question," rejoined Moulinet; "you have 
 acted most correctly, I will admit it ; but my daughter must 
 be insane to urge you on to violence like that. On the con- 
 trary, she ought to preach conciliation. Everything may yet 
 be arranged. A passing misunderstanding between two 
 friends, a slight quarrel between two cousins. They will kiss 
 each other, and it will all be settled. But a duel, a scandal, a 
 rupture ? Can't you realise the consequences it would entail ? 
 They are enormous for yourselves ! And for me ? — Why for 
 me they are disastrous ! — You simply kill all my chances of 
 election ! " 
 
 Despite the gravity of the situation the Duke could not help 
 laughing; while Athenais, who was couched, like a coiling 
 viper, in her arm-chair, gave a disdainful hiss. 
 
 "Excuse me, Monsieur le Due," resumed Moulinet in a 
 tone of authority. " I think I have done enough for you to 
 insist on my wishes being carried out in the present instance. 
 This deplorable affair must be arranged. Every day there are 
 similar matters which result in pacification. The task is an 
 easy one. We will draw up a little proves verbal by which 
 Madame Derblay will declare that she withdraws what she 
 said. My daughter will withdraw what she replied. You, 
 my son-in-law, you must withdraw your challenge, and some- 
 thing being withdrawn on all sides it will only remain " 
 
 " For us to withdraw ourselves," said the Duke. 
 
 " But it is done every day " 
 
 " Not when such men as Monsieur Derblay and myself are 
 in presence. Believe me, Monsieur Moulinet, silence your 
 excellent heart. Stifle the candidate's alarm and let matters 
 proceed as it has been decided — I wish you good night. I 
 
338 THE ironmaster; 
 
 have to talk to La Brede before going to bed." Tbereupon, 
 quietly bowing to bis wife and bis fatber-in-law, the Duke 
 left tbe room . 
 
 Moulinet approached Athenais. " Come, my dear child," 
 he stammered. 
 
 But without even looking at him the Duchess, who was 
 extremely pale, rose from her seat, opened the door of her 
 room, and disappeared. Moulinet sadly jerked his head, and 
 confessed to himself for the first time that there were really 
 some difiiculties which could not be surmounted by money. 
 ^' Night gives advice," he muttered. " To-morrow it will be 
 daylight ; we shall see matters more clearly." And cHnging 
 as it were to a vague hope, he went to stretch himself in the 
 bed of the Emperor Charles Y. 
 
 The ironmaster had been sleeping calmly for a couple of 
 hours when a touch on his shoulder woke him up. He opened 
 his eyes ; and on seeing that the Marquis de Beaulieu was 
 standing before him, he sprang eagerly to his feet. It was 
 already broad daylight, half -past six by the clock. ''We 
 have the time," murmured Philippe. 
 
 Never had he felt stronger or more composed, and he 
 realised this with pride. This man of will was always secretly 
 delighted when he obtained some such proof of his own moral 
 force. He went to the window and opened it. The air was fresh 
 and pure, impregnated with the scent of flowers moist with dew. 
 He let his eyes wander over the park. A light transj)arent 
 blue haze was hanging like a veil over the trees, and the sun, 
 already high in the heavens, was scintillating on the calm 
 surface of the sheet of water. Nature seemed to have adorned 
 herself in his honour. ''A splendid day!" he gaily cried, 
 just as though he had been going out on some mere sporting 
 expedition. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 339 
 
 But as lie spoke liis eyes met tlie Marquis's, and lie seemed 
 to read mute reproach, in Octave's saddened gaze. He at once 
 went towards Ms brother-in-law and affectionately took hold 
 of his hand. '■ ' Do not be astonished to find me so careless 
 and almost joyful this morning," he said. " I have a presen- 
 timent that everything will finish to my advantage." Then 
 becoming grave again, he added, ' ' Still, as misfortune may 
 happen, I have taken all necessary decisions, and you will 
 find them recorded in this letter." So saying, he pointed to 
 an envelope addressed to Maitre Bachelin, which was lying 
 on his writing-table. " I have chosen you and my old friend 
 to be my executors, and what I have bequeathed to you, my 
 dear Octave, is very dear to me indeed " 
 
 A ray of joy lighted up the Marquis's face. He tried to 
 speak, but his voice died away in his throat, and catching 
 Philippe by the arms he began to sob on his shoulder. 
 
 ''Come, Octave, be firm," resumed Philippe. ^'I hope 
 that I shall be present at your wedding to give my sister 
 away myself. But if I were no longer there, my friend, love 
 her dearly when you are married, for she deserves it. She 
 has a tender heart, which the least grief would break." It 
 was with infinite softness of tone that he spoke of the child 
 whom he had reared and cherished with a father's love ; but 
 passing his hand across his forehead, he speedily became 
 calm and smiling again. ''I must go and dress," he said. 
 '^ Will you come up-stairs with me ? You will keep me com- 
 pany. And then we will seek the Baron. I should like to 
 leave the house without attracting notice." 
 
 Octave lowered his head without answering. But at last, 
 making a great effort, he exclaimed, " Before coming to you 
 this morning, Philippe, I saw my sister. Will you promise me 
 not to start without seeing her ? " 
 
340 THE ironmaster; OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 
 
 PHlippe looked questioningly at tlie Marquis. 
 
 ''It is not admissible," resumed Octave, ''that you should 
 leave her without giving her the opportunity of justifying 
 herself in your eyes, if such indeed he .possible." And as 
 the ironmaster made a sudden gesture of surprise, the Mar- 
 quis added gravely, "Three days ago I learned what had 
 occurred between Claire and you. She confessed everything 
 to me. I know how guilty she was, Philippe, and believo 
 me, I pity you for having endured such bitter grief as much 
 as I admire you for having known how to hide it. But come, 
 I beg you be indulgent and generous. It would be noble on 
 your part not to crush this poor woman in despair. You are 
 a brave and an energetic man, and one has a right to say 
 everything to you. Eeflect that she may never see you ahve 
 again. Do not leave her crushed with remorse at the thought 
 that she has not merely desolated your life, but led you 
 perhaps to death itself." 
 
 The ironmaster turned ashy pale and averted his face. He 
 took a few steps in the direction of the window, and then 
 returning towards Octave, "I will do what you ask of me," 
 he said. "But this interview will be a horribly painful one, 
 both for your sister and myself. Do all you can to shorten it 
 and facilitate my departure by coming to fetch me." 
 
 The Marquis acquiesced with a gesture, and having pressed 
 Philippe's hand affectionately, followed him to the bedroom 
 on the floor above. , 
 
XIX. 
 
 The Baroness joined her cousin very early in the morning. 
 She found her in a state of torpor after the horrible agitation 
 of the night, and when she spoke to her she was unable to 
 obtain any reply. With a contracted mouth and fixedly 
 staring eyes, the young wife crouched on the sofa as if she 
 were absolutely crushed. AU her life seemed to be centred 
 in her wild dark stare, which appeared to be fixed on some 
 frightful vision. Several hours elapsed without a change. 
 Each time the clock struck, indicating the flight of time, 
 Claire started; but if it had not been for this spasmodic 
 motion and for the fierce glow in her eyes, one might have 
 imagined her to have been asleep. 
 
 At last, however, her brother's arrival roused her. She 
 clung passionately to the hope of seeing Philippe before he 
 started. Fever mounted to her face, and her cheeks glowed 
 with fire, as in an exhausted voice she begged Octave to try 
 and induce her husband to grant her this supreme favour. 
 Agitation then seized hold of her again, and she became 
 extremely restless, constantly going to the window and raising 
 the blind to see if she had been deceived, if Philippe were 
 really starting, and then hastening to the door and listening, 
 in hopes that she might hear his approach. The Baroness 
 was frightened as she beheld Claire more anxious and ener- 
 vated each moment, and displaying every sign of growing 
 madness. 
 
342 THE ironmaster; 
 
 Suddenly a noise of footsteps made the young wife shrink 
 into a comer, as if slie were afraid of finding herself face to 
 face with the man whom she called upon with all the strength 
 of her soTil. She turned deadly pale, a black circle encom- 
 passed her eyes, and she made a gesture to the Baroness as 
 a request for her to withdraw. Then, trembling in every 
 limb, dumb with emotion, she remained standing in the 
 centre of the room, which Philippe had just entered. They 
 remained in presence of each other without exchanging a 
 word. He noticed with grief the traces of frightful anguish 
 on her face; whilst she, on her side, tried to collect her 
 thoughts, finding only emptiness in her agonising brain, 
 though but a moment before she had had so much to say. 
 She was soon unable to endure this weighty silence any 
 longer, and approaching Philippe, she took his hand in hers ; 
 then, with a heartrending sob, she began to cover it with 
 tears and kisses. 
 
 The ironmaster had expected an explanation ; he was 
 prepared for entreaties ; but this sudden explosion of grief, 
 which he knew was sincere, came upon him unawares, and 
 fairly unmanned him. He wished to withdraw his hand, on 
 which the scalding tears of the woman he loved were falling 
 rapidly, but he was unable to do so, and he quivered, feeling 
 as if all his strength were leaving him. '' Claire," said he, 
 in a low tone, " come, you trouble me greatly. I so need to 
 be calm ; and calm yourself, I beg of you. Be stronger ; sj)are 
 me, if you care for my life." 
 
 On hearing these words Claire raised her head. The 
 expression of her face was no longer the same. She seemed 
 to have come to some sudden resolution. " Your life ! " she 
 said. ''Ah! rather mine, a hundred times! Miserable 
 woman that I am ! It is I who have exposed you to this , 
 danger by my violence. But I ought to have borne every- 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 343 
 
 thing. In suffering I expiated my conduct towards you. 
 And yet, in a moment's rage, I forgot every tMng. But tMs 
 duel is senseless. It shall not take place. I know how it 
 can be prevented. 
 
 '^ And how ? " asked Philippe already frowning. 
 
 " By sacrificing my pride to your security," answered Claire. 
 " Oh, nothing shall hinder me since it is a question of your 
 life. I wiU humiliate myself before the Duchess if needs be. 
 I will speak to the Duke. There is still time ! " 
 
 ^' I forbid your doing it," replied the ironmaster with con- 
 tracted features. ''Do not forget that you bear my name. 
 Any humiliation you suffered would reflect upon myself. And 
 besides, understand that I hate him, this man who is the cause 
 of all my woe ! For the last year I have been longing to find 
 myself face to face with him. Ah, believe me, this day is 
 welcome ! " 
 
 Claire bowed her head. She had long been accustomed to 
 obey when Philippe ordered. Calmed, as it were, by this out- 
 burst, he now resumed more softly. ' ' I appreciate the f eeKng 
 that guided you in this proposal, and I am grateful to you for 
 it. At the outset of our married life there was a misunder- 
 standing which has caused us both to suffer grievously. I do 
 not hold you entirely responsible. It was partly my fault as 
 well. I did not know how to understand you, how to sacrifice 
 myseK ; I loved you too much. But I cannot now go away, 
 leaving you with the thought that I still harbour rancour 
 against you. You may be at peace, Claire, and in your turn 
 forgive me the sufferings I have caused you, and bid me 
 good-bye." 
 
 As Claire heard this, her face became radiant, and raising 
 her arms to heaven in an impulse of passionate gratitude, 
 ''Forgive you ? I ? " she cried. " But can you not see that I 
 worship you ? Have you never detected it in my eyes or my 
 
3M THE IRO:\'MASTER ; 
 
 voice ? " Whilst speaking she came close to Philippe, and 
 now throwing her beautiful arms round his neck, she laid her 
 air head on his shoulder, intoxicating him with the perfume 
 of her person and inflaming him with her passionate glances. 
 She spoke as in a dream, " Ah ! do not go. If you knew how 
 jnuch I love you. Stay here with ,me and be mine. We are 
 so 3^oung, we have so many years to be happy. Why care 
 about that man and that woman who hate us so ? We will 
 forget them. Let us fly from them, afar. There we shall 
 find happiness, life, and love." 
 
 Philippe gently parted the arms that clung around him 
 and freed himself from Claire's embrace. '^ Here," said he 
 quietly, '"tis a question of honour and duty." 
 
 The young wife heaved a heartrending sigh. She became 
 conscious again of the frightful reality, and her vision rose 
 before her once more — the Duke, his pistol in his hand, 
 laughing his wicked laugh. She wished to spring forward, 
 make a final effort, and detain 'Philippe despite himself. 
 ''No! no!" she cried; but at the same moment the door 
 opened, and Octave appeared ou the threshold. He made a 
 sign to Philippe, and then immediately withdrew. Claire 
 realised that the time for her husband to start had now 
 arrived. A veil seemed to be torn away from before her eyes, 
 she understood that it was all over, and, falling on her hus- 
 band's breast again, she embraced him for the last time with 
 convulsive earnestness. 
 
 " Good-bye," murmured the ironmaster. 
 
 ** Oh, don't leave me like that ! Not with that icy word. 
 Tell me that you love me ! Do not go without having told 
 me so." 
 
 But Philippe remained inflexible. He had confessed that 
 he forgave her, but he would not acknowledge that he loved 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 345 
 
 her. Freeing himself from her again, he walked towards the 
 door. Then, on the threshold, turning round, ''Pray God 
 that I may come back alive,", he said, as if to give her a 
 supreme hope. 
 
 That was all. The young wife gave vent to a shriek which 
 made the Baroness hasten to the spot. The vehicle in which 
 the ironmaster, Octave, and the Baron took their places at 
 once started down the avenue. Careless of the Baroness's 
 presence, Claire threw herseK on to the sofa and hid her 
 head among the cushions, as though she wished neither to 
 see nor hear anything, as if she longed to be able to suspend 
 her life during the terrible hour that was about to ensue. 
 But a gentle voice suddenly aroused her., Suzanne was 
 knocking at the door and asking, '' Can I come in ?" 
 
 Claire and the Baroness exchanged a j)ainful glance. It 
 was again necessary to dissimulate, to try and deceive this 
 child, who knew nothing of the truth. Setting the door ajar, 
 Suzanne popped her head into the room. She looked fresh 
 and gay. ''Come in, my dear," said Claire, and, making a 
 prodigious effort, she tried to smile. 
 
 " What ! you are not dressed yet," cried the young girl, see- 
 ing that her sister-in-law still wore her dressing-gown. * ' Why, 
 I've already been round the park in the little chaise." Whilst 
 speaking, Suzanne moved about the room, foraging^ like a 
 young cat. " Ah, do you know," she suddenly exclaimed, "I 
 have just met Philippe with the Baron and Monsieur Octave. 
 They were in a closed carriage, and looked rather strange. 
 Where can they have gone like that, all three of them ? " 
 
 Claire flushed and turned pale alternately, and drops of 
 perspiration overspread her forehead. Each word that 
 Suzanne spoke seemed to torture her. 
 
 " Oh, if my husband were there," said the Baroness, 
 
 z 
 
346 THE ironmaster; 
 
 ^'they must have gone for some experiments, some visit to 
 the pits." 
 
 ''Wliich. way were they going?" asked Claire in a 
 trembling voice. 
 
 *' Towards the meres/' said Suzanne j *' perhaps they were 
 going to La Yarenne." 
 
 ^' Oh, no ! " replied the Baroness. '' The Due de Bligny is 
 not a man to get up before ten o'clock." 
 
 Claire no longer listened. ^' Towards the meres," Suzanne 
 had said. And at once there rose before her eyes a vision of 
 the forest glade, with its grassy lawn, its white fence, and the 
 still water shaded by the drooping branches of the trees. This 
 quiet, lonely sppt was just the place for a duel. Its desolate 
 aspect seemed to destine it for some tragic scene. It was 
 there that the Duke and Philippe would fight ; she felt sure 
 of it ; she seemed to see them. She was seized again with 
 frightful agitation, and became extremely restless. Suddenly 
 she divested herself of her dressing-gown and donned a morn- 
 ing costume. She had formed a plan, and was intent upon 
 accomplishing it. *' You used the little chaise," she said to 
 Suzanne ; '' where did you leave it ? " 
 
 **In the courtyard of the stables," replied the young girl. 
 *' They must be unharnessing the horses." 
 
 *'No matter; I shall take it. I have something to do in 
 the neighbourhood," rejoined Claire; and without waiting 
 she hastily threw a lace ^chu over her head and hurried 
 from the room. 
 
 Alone, handling the reins excitedly, she started off at a 
 rapid pace. Motion, instead of calming her fever, only 
 excited her the more. She felt frenzied by the speed of the 
 horse, and urged him into a yet faster gallop, careless of the 
 ruts of the forest, and seemingly courting an accident. 
 
on, LOVE AND PRIDE. 347 
 
 NotMng stopped lier ; on and on slie went witL. distended 
 nerves, biting her lips with vexation at not being able to go 
 faster, envying the birds their wings, and listening, with a 
 palpitating heart, as if she feared that in the silence of the 
 wood she might suddenly hear the fatal report of firearms. 
 
 But the forest remained silent. On the high road, in the 
 distance, the bells of passing vehicles could be heard merrily 
 jingling. The mossy avenue stretched before her, deadening 
 the clatter of the horse's hoofs. His flanks were steaming, 
 and he was surrounded with a vapoury cloud. Impelled 
 frantically on and on, he, suddenly stumbled and fell. Claire 
 sprang from the vehicle, and darted on foot through the 
 forest. Instinct warned her that she was reaching the goal, 
 and as she listened she suddenly heard some one talking near 
 her. 
 
 She glanced rapidly around. Some twenty paces distant, 
 above the meres, M. Moulinet's Chinese kiosk mirrored its 
 porcelain tiles in the sleeping water. By installing herself 
 there Claire would be able to see everything that happened, 
 without being seen herself. Lightly, like some hunted hind, 
 she glided through the trees and climbed the steps leading to 
 the kiosk. Suddenly she paused, with a feeling of mingled 
 anxiety aijd alarm. 
 
 In the centre of the clearing the Baron was striding along, 
 counting the thirty paces that were to intervene between the 
 two adversaries. La Brede was loading the weapons, with 
 the assistance of Moulinet, who looked extremely pale and 
 wild. At the farther end of the glade Philippe walked slowly 
 to and fro, conversing with the doctor and Octave. Near the 
 kiosk stood the Duke, munching a cigar, and carelessly 
 decapitating the forest-flowers with a cane which he held 
 in his hand. With a pang at her heart Claire recalled the 
 
348 THE ironmaster; 
 
 aspect of tlie Eond-Point on the day when it was full of horse- 
 men and elegantly attired women, with the luncheon-tables 
 sumptuously set out, and served by footmen from La Va- 
 renne. Everjrthing had then been gay and brilliant. No 
 doubt she had felt jealous, but what was her jealousy in com- 
 parison with her present tortures ? Below her stood the two 
 men who were bent on killing each other for her sake, and in 
 a moment one or the other of them would be stretched on the 
 grass. A cloud passed before her eyes, and she had to cling 
 to the balustrade to avoid falling. However, her weakness 
 did not last long. She looked again, breathing heavily, and 
 seized with horrible curiosity. 
 
 The two adversaries were now, in position, and M. Moulinet 
 had just cried out in a supplicating tone, ''Gentlemen, for 
 heaven's sake, gentlemen I " But La Brede had drawn him 
 aside, and was severely lecturing him in a corner. Octave 
 now handed Philippe his weapon and at once drew aside. 
 
 ''Are you ready, gentlemen? " asked La Brede in a firm 
 voice. 
 
 "Yes," replied the Duke and Philippe simultaneously. 
 La Brede at once resumed, counting slowly, " One — two — 
 three — fire!" 
 
 Claire saw the two pistols lowered threateningly. At this 
 supreme moment she lost all self-control. An invincible im- 
 pulse urged her forward, and with a shriek she bounded 
 down the steps, and eager to save Philippe, clapped her hand 
 upon the muzzle of Bligny's pistol. A loud report was heard, 
 and Claire turned as pale as death itselt Excitedly waving 
 her gashed and bleeding hand, she shook it in Bligny's face, 
 covering him with blood. Then, heaving a deep sigh, she 
 tottered and fainted away. 
 
 There was a moment of indescribable confusion. The Duke 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 349 
 
 had retreated, horror-stricken, when lie felt tliis warm rain of 
 blood fall upon his face. Philippe had darted forward, caught 
 hold of Claire, and taking her in his arms, as if she had been 
 a child, carried her to the carriage which was waiting hard 
 by. Her eyes were closed. Assisted by the doctor, the iron- 
 master anxiously raised the poor mutilated hand and passion- 
 ately kissed it. 
 
 "With a gloomy face and almost feminine delicacy of touch 
 the doctor anxiously examined the wound. '' Nothing 
 broken," he exclaimed at last in a tone of relief. " We have 
 got off on cheaper terms than I expected. It is true that the 
 hand will be badly damaged, but Madame Derblay will only 
 have to keep her glove on." He began to laugh, regaining 
 at once all his customary surgical self-possession, and then 
 he settled the cushions of the vehicle so as to make Claire 
 comfortable. 
 
 Philippe, who was still grievously upset, stood looking at 
 liis wife, feeling frightened by her prolonged fainting-fit. 
 However, he was roused to consciousness of the situation on 
 hearing the Baron call him. La Brede, who seemed greatly 
 disturbed, approached at M. de Prefont's side. 
 
 '^I am charged by the Due de Bligny, monsieur," said he, 
 ' ' to express to you how deeply he regrets the misfortune he 
 has involuntarily caused. The accident that has happened to 
 Madame Derblay has greatly afflicted him, and his ideas are 
 altogether modified. It seems to him that it is now quite 
 impossible to follow up this affair. My friend's courage is 
 above all question, yours also, monsieur. "We are all men of 
 honour, and you may be sure that what has happened will be 
 faithfully kept secret." 
 
 The ironmaster glanced at the Duke. Trembling and livid, 
 he was leaning against the paling wiping his face, and each 
 
350 THE ironmaster; 
 
 time that he removed his handkerchief he noted with a painful 
 shudder a fresh stain of blood. He reflected to himself that 
 his bullet might have mortally wounded Claire, pierced her 
 fair brow or her white bosom ; and at the thought he judged 
 himself severely, was horrified at his conduct, and determined 
 he would never more interfere with the woman who had 
 suffered so much on his account. 
 
 La Brede was still talking to Philippe with unusual emotion. 
 The ironmaster vaguely heard the young man express his per- 
 sonal regrets, and let him shake his hand. Then perceiving 
 that the Duke was going off with Moulinet, he pushed the 
 doctor into his own carriage, climbed on to the box, caught 
 up the reins, and started off at a rapid pace. 
 
 In the spacious room, hung with old tapestry whereon the 
 young goddesses replenished the warriors' goblets, Philippe 
 sat in silence beside Claire's bed as in the days of her long 
 iUness. Pever had seized hold of the young wife, an hour 
 had elapsed without her regaining consciousness, but she was 
 now stirring on her pillows. Suddenly her eyes opened, and 
 it seemed as if she were looking for Philippe. The iron- 
 master immediately rose and leant towards her. A smile 
 passed over her lips, and throwing her bare arms round her 
 husband's neck she tenderly drew him towards her. Her brain 
 was so disturbed that she was only in a state of semi-con- 
 sciousness. It seemed to her as if she were floating like a 
 spirit in the celestial ether. She felt no pain, for a delightful 
 sensation of languor had come over her. Then, so low that 
 Philippe scarcely heard her, she murmured, " I am dead, am 
 I not, my love, and dead for you ? How happy I feel ! You 
 are smiling at me— you love me. I am in your arms. How 
 sweet is death ! And what an adorable eternity ! " 
 
 Suddenly she was awoke by the sound of her own voice. 
 
OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 351 
 
 An acute pain passed through, her hand and she remembered 
 everything — her despair, her anguish, and her sacrifice. 
 '^ No ! I live," she cried ; and then repulsing Philippe and 
 looking wildly at him, as though her life or death depended on 
 his answer, "One word?" she asked. ''Tell me — do you 
 love me ? " 
 
 Philippe showed her a radiant face. ''Yes, I love you," 
 he replied. "There were two women in you. She who 
 caused me so much suffering no longer lives ; but you — you 
 are the one I have never ceased to love." 
 
 A cry escaped Claire ; her eyes filled with tears, she clung 
 frantically to Philippe, their lips met, and in inexpressible 
 ecstasy they exchanged their first kiss of love. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PfilNTBD Br J. 6. YIRTUB AND CO., LlltlTED, CITY EOAD, LOSOOV, 
 
42, Cathekine Street, Strand, 
 September, 1884. 
 
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 PEOPLE I HAVE MET. 
 
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 Christmas and the New Year. The Carnival Booming. Down among the Mormons. 
 
 On to Richmond. The Carnival Booms. The Stock-yards of Chicag-n. 
 
 Still on to Richmond. Going West. 
 
lo VIZETELLY &- CO:S RECENT PUBLICATIONS, 
 
 ' ' It was like your imijerence to come smoucliin' round here, looking after de white folks' washin. 
 
 "In 'America Revisited' Mr. Sala is seen at his very best; better even than in his Pari* 
 book, more evenly genial and gay, and with a fresher subject to handle."— V/orld. 
 
 " Mr. Sala's good stories lie thick as plums in a pudding throughout this handsome work." — 
 Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 " A new book of travel by Mr. Sala is sure to be welcome. He possesses the happy knack of 
 adorning whatever he touches, and of finding something worth telling when traversing beaten 
 gvo\ind."—Athen(Bum. 
 
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VIZ E TELLY &- CO.'S RECENT PUBLICATIONS. ii 
 
 Seventh Edition, hi Crown 8vo, b^8 2)ages, attractively bou?id,2frice 3,?. 6d., 
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 PARIS HERSELF AGAIN 
 
 By GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA. 
 
 WITH 350 CHARACTERISTIC ILLUSTRATIONS BY FRENCH ARTISTS. 
 
 " The author's 'round-about ' chapters are as animated as they are varied and sympathetic, 
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 The Times. 
 
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 coming upon one or more. Few writers can rival Mr. Sala's fertility of illustration and ever 
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 and the fertility of his resources. For those who do and those who do not know Paris these 
 volumes contain a fund of instruction and amusement." — Saturday Review. 
 
 " This book is one of the most readable that has appeared for many a day. Few Englishmen 
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 master."— T/ie World. 
 
12 VIZETELLY & ^ CO.'S RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 ZOLA'S POWE RFUL REALI STIC NOVELS. 
 
 Uniform with NANA and THE " ASSOMMOIR." In Crown 8w, i^ricc 6s. 
 
 PIPING HOT! 
 
 ("POT.BOUILLE.") 
 
 By EMILE ZOLA. 
 
 Unabridged Translation from the QZrd French edition. Illustrated, with Sixteen 
 Tinted Page Engravings by French Artists. 
 
 In Crown 8w, handsomely bound, price 6s. 
 
 NANA: 
 
 A Eealistic Novel. By EMILE ZOLA. 
 
 TRANSLATED WITHOUT ABRIDGMENT FROM THE 127th FRENCH EDITION. 
 
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 Mr. HENRY JAMES on "NANA." 
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 would probably decline to take au seritux any work produced under such unnatiu-ul conditions. 
 Half of life is a sealed book to young vmraarried ladies, and how can a novel be worth anything 
 that deals only with half of life? How can a portrait be painted (in any way to be recognizable) 
 of half a face ? It is not in one eye, but in the two eyes together that the expression resides, and 
 it is the combination of features that constitutes the human identity. These objections are 
 perfectly valid, and it may be said that our English system is a good thing for virgins and boys, 
 and a bad thing for the novel itself, when the novel is regarded as something more than a simple 
 yeu desprit, and considered as a composition that treats of Ufe at large and helps us to know." 
 
 *** An Edition of " NANA" is published -without the Illustrations, 
 
 price 5s. 
 
 In Croion 8w, uniform with *' Nana," "price 65. 
 
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 A Bealistic Novel. By EMILE ZOLA. 
 
 TRANSLATED WITHOUT ABRIDGMENT FROM THE 97th FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated with Sixteen Tinted Page Engravings, by Bellenger, Clairin, Andre GilU 
 Leloir, Rose and Vierge, 
 
 '^' After reading Zola's novels it seems as if in all others, even in the truest, there were a veil 
 between the reader and the things described, and there is present to our minds the same difference 
 as exists between the representations of hiiman faces on canvas and the reflection of the same 
 faces in a mirror. It is like finding truth for the first time. 
 
 •'Zola is one of the most moral novelists in France, and it is really astonishing how anyone 
 can dovibt this. He makes us note the smell of vice, not its perfume ; his nude figures are those 
 of the anatomical table, which do not inspire the slightest immoral thought ; there is not one of 
 his books, not even the crudest, that does not leave behind it pure, hrm, and unnustakable 
 aversion, or scorn, for the base passions of which he treats. Brutally, pitilessly, and without 
 hypocrisy he strips vice naked and holds it up to ridicule. Forced by his hand it is vice itself 
 that says, ' Detest me and pass by ! ' His novels, as he himself says, are really ' morals 
 ill action.' " — Signer de Aniicis on the " Assommo.r." 
 TO BE FOLLOWED BY THE MORE POPULAR OF EmILE ZoLA's REMARKABLE WORKS. 
 
VIZ E TELLY 6- CO:S RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 13 
 
 THE ARRIVAL OF THE ELEVEN YOUNG MEN AT NANA's EVENING PARTY. 
 
14 VIZETELLY &- CO:S /DECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
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 THE STORY OF 
 
 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE, 
 
 COMPRISING A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE COUNTESS DE LA MOTTE, PEE- 
 
 TENDED CONFIDANTE OF AIARIE-ANTOINETTE, WITH PAP.TICULARS OF THE 
 
 CAREERS OF THE OTHER ACTORS IN THIS REMARKABLE DRAMA. 
 
 By henry VIZETELLY. 
 
 Illustrated with an Exact FiCjyresentation of the Diamond NecMacc,from a contemporanj 
 Drawing, and a Portrait of the Countess de la Motte, engraved on Steel. 
 
 "Mr. Vizetelly's tale has all the interest of a romance which is too strange not to be true. 
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 represented aa bearing a part, is admirable." — Saturday Jievieic. 
 
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 probabilities as to be a positive insult to the common sense of the reader. Yet strange, startling, 
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 — ^^otes and Queries. 
 
 In Large Crown 8vo, handsomely 2yrlnted and hound, 2frice 6s. 
 
 THE AMUSING 
 
 ADVENTURES OF GUZMAN OF ALFARAQUE. 
 
 A Spanish Novel. Translated by EDWARD LOWDELL. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH HIGHLY-FINISHED ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL FROM DESIGNS BY STAHL. 
 
 "The wit, vivacity and variety of this masterpiece cannot be over-estimated." — Morning Post. 
 " A very well executed translation of a famous, ' Rogue's Progress.'"— Spec^aior. 
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 steel, it will be acceptable to a good many readers."— Scotsjuan. 
 
 In Post 8vo, 2)ricc '2.S. 6d. 
 
 THE CHILDISHNESS AND BRUTALITY OF 
 THE TIME: 
 
 Some Plain Truths in Plain Language. 
 
 SupiJlcmented hy sundry discu7'sive Essays and Narratives. 
 
 By HARGRAVE JENNINGS, Author of "The Rosicrucians, " &c. 
 
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 penned with surprising freshness and spirit." — Daily Htws. 
 
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VIZETELLY &- CO:S RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 15 
 
 In Crown ^vo, attracthehj iound, price 35. Qd. 
 
 THE RED CROSS, and other Stories. 
 
 By LUIGI. 
 
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 Literary World. ^____ 
 
 In Two Volu mes, post ^vo, price \0s. 6d. 
 
 SOCIETY NOVELETTES. 
 
 By F. C. BURNAND, H. SAVILE CLARKE, R. E. PRANCILLON, JOSEPH HATTON, 
 RICHARD JEFFERIES, the Author of "A French Heiress in her own Chateau," &c. (fcc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH 
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 From Designs by R. CALDE- 
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 M. E. EDWARDS, F. DADD, &c. 
 
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 is original and clever in these 
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 with such contributors, the 
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 unusual interest and amusement 
 which these volumes supply." — 
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 " We strongly advise the reader 
 to begin with 'How one Ghost 
 was laid,' and to follow it up with 
 ' Jack's Wife,' with whom, by the 
 way, as portrayed both by artist 
 and author, he cannot fail to fall 
 in love. These two graceful little 
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 thoroughly enjoy the good things 
 that follow."— Life. 
 
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 large amount of capital reading. 
 The stories are of all kinds ex- 
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 In Croicn %vo, price 35. &d. 
 A NEW EDITION, COMPRISING MUCH ADDITIONAL MATTER, OF 
 
 IN STRANGE COMPANY. 
 
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 ILLUSTRATED WITH A PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR, ENGRAVED ON STEEL.' 
 
i6 VIZETELLY &- CO:S RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 In square ^vo, cloth gilt, iirice 35. ^d. 
 
 LAYS OF THE SAINTLY; 
 
 OE, THE NEW GOLDEN LEGEND. 
 
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 Author of "Les Manteaux Noirs." 
 
 WITH SUMOEOUS ILLUSTBATIONS 
 BY J. LEITCH. 
 
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 and some talent for parody. The burlesque 
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 of this volame of humorous poems levelled 
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 " Mr. Walter Parke's versatility is mar- 
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 In Demy Uo, handsomely priiited and hound, ivith gilt edges, pi-ice 12s. 
 
 A HISTORY OF CHAMPAGNE; 
 
 WITH NOTES ON THE OTHER SPARKLING WINES OF FRANCE. 
 By henry VIZETELLY, 
 
 WINE JtTROR FOR GREAT BRITAIN AT THE VIENNA AND PARIS EXHIBITIONS OF 1S73 AND 1S78. 
 
 Illustrated with 350 Engravings, 
 
 ff'ROM ORIGINAL SKETCHES AND PHOTOGRAPHS, ANCIENT MSS., EARLY PRINTED 
 BOOKS, RARE PRINTS, CARICATURES, ETC. 
 
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 amatter, distinguished by an accuracy not often found in such medleys, and illustrated in the 
 anost abundant and pleasingly miscellaneous fashion."— Daii^ News. 
 
 " Mr. Henry Vizetelly's handsome book about Champagne and other sparkling wines of 
 France is full of curious information and amusement. It should be widely read and appreciated." 
 — Saturdai/ Review. 
 
 "Mr. Henry VIzetelly has written a quarto volume on the 'History of Champagne,' in 
 which he has collected a large number of facts, many of them very curious and interesting. Many 
 of the woodcuts are excellent." — Athenceuin. 
 
 "In the handsome volume before us Mr. Henry Vizetelly has quite eclipsed all his former 
 ■^fiorta."— Morning Advertiser. 
 
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VIZETELLY &> CO.'S RECENT PUBLICATIONS. n 
 
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 TEE FAVOURITE READING OF PRINCE BISMARCK, 
 
 Ah, friend, how many and many a while 
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 And solaced pain and charmed exile, 
 Miss Braddon and Gaboriau ! " 
 
 Ballads of Railway Novels in '' Longvuin's Magazine." 
 
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 ' ' Hardly ever has a more ingenious circumstantial case been imagined than that which 
 puts the hero in peril of his life, and the manner in which the proof of his innocence ia 
 finally brought about is scarcely less skilful." — Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News. 
 
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 "M. Gaboriau is a skilful and brilliant writer, capable of so diverting the attention and 
 interest of his readers that nob one word or line in his book will be skipped or read care- 
 lessly." — Hampshire Advertiser. 
 
 OTHER PEOPLE'S MONEY. 
 
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 deal of art." — London Figaro. 
 
 LECOQ THE DETECTIVE. Two vols. 
 
 " In the art of forging a tangled chain of complicated incidents involved and in- 
 explicable until the last link is reached and the whole made clear, Mr. Wilkie Collins 
 is equalled, if not excelled, by M. Gaboriau. The same skill in constructing a story is 
 shown by both, as likewise the same ability to build up a superstructure of facts on a 
 foundation which, sound enough in appearance, is shattered when the long-concealed 
 touchstone of truth is at length applied to it."— JirigMon Herald. 
 
 THE GILDED CLIQUE. 
 
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 THE MYSTERY OF ORCIVAL. 
 
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 result. The ability displayed is unquestionable." —Sheffi,eld Independent. 
 
 DOSSIER NO. 113. 
 
 " The plot is worked out with gi-eat skill, and from first to last the reader's interest ia 
 never allowed to flag." — Dmnbarton Herald. 
 
 THE LITTLE OLD MAN OF BATIGNOLLES. 
 THE SLAVES OF PARIS. Two vols. 
 
 " Sensational, full of interest, cleverly conceived and wrought out with consummate 
 skill." — Oxford and Cambridge Journal. 
 
 THE COUNT'S MILLIONS. Two vols. 
 INTRIGUES OF A FEMALE POISONER. 
 THE CATASTROPHE. Two vols. 
 
i8 VIZETELLY &- CO:S RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 In Small Post 8vo, ornamental covers, Is. each ; in cloth, Is. Qd. 
 
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 FROMONT THE YOUNGER & RISLER THE ELDER. By 
 
 A. Daudet. 
 
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 " A terrible story, powerful after a sledge-hammer fashion in some parts, and wonder- 
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 be inferred from the fact that this English version is said to be ' translated from the 
 fiftieth French edition.' "— Illustrated London News. 
 
 SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. By V. Chemuliez. 
 
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 studies of character, well constructed, peopled with interesting men and women, and the 
 etyle in which they are written is admirable." — The Times. 
 
 " Those who have read this singular story in the original need not be reminded of that 
 supremely dramatic study of the man who lived two lives at once, even within himself. 
 The reader's discovery of his double nature is one of the most cleverly managed of sur- 
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 THE DRAMA OF THE RUE DE LA PAIX. By A. Belot. 
 
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 which a decidedly interesting and thrilling narrative is told with great force and 
 passion, relieved by sprightliness and tenderness." — Illustrated London Netcs. 
 
 MAUGARS JUNIOR. By A. Theuriet. 
 
 " One of the most charming novelettes we have read for a long time." — Literary World. 
 
 WAYWARD DOSIA, & THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 
 
 Henry Greville. 
 
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 A NEW LEASE OF LIFE, & SAVING A DAUGHTER'S 
 
 DOWRY. By E. About. 
 
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 very en6.."— Dublin Enening Mail. 
 
 " The story, as a flight of brilliant and eccentric imagination, is unequalled in its 
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 COLOMBA, & CARMEN. ByP. Merimee. 
 
 " The freshness and raciness of ' Colomba' is quite cheering after the stereotyped three- 
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 of which Minnie Hauk made so popular. It is a bright and vivacious story."— Life. 
 
 A WOMAN'S DIARY, & THE LITTLE COUNTESS. By 
 
 0. Feuillet. 
 
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VIZETELLY &> CO.'S RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 19 
 
 BLUE-EYED META HOLDENIS, & A STROKE OF DIPLO- 
 
 MACY. By V, Chehbuliez. 
 
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 THE GODSON OF A MARQUIS. By a. Theueiet. 
 
 " The rustic personages, the rural scenery and life in the forest country of Argonne, are 
 painted with the hand of a master. From the beginning to the close the interest of the 
 story never flags." — Life. 
 
 THE TOWER OF PERCEMONT AND MARIANNE. By 
 
 George Sand. 
 
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 Illustrated London Neios. 
 
 THE LOW-BORN LOVER'S REVENGE. By V. Cherboliez. 
 
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 productions. The studies of human nature under various influences, especially in the 
 cases of the unhappy heroine and her low-born lover, are wonderfully effective." — lUas- 
 trattd London News. 
 
 THE NOTARY'S NOSE, AND OTHER AMUSING STORIES. 
 
 By E. About. 
 
 " Crisp and bright, full of movement and iwtQVQBi."— Brighton Herald. 
 
 DOCTOR CLAUDE ; OR, LOVE RENDERED DESPERATE. 
 
 By II. Malot. Two vols. 
 
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 English romance as these books."— i^wfti in Evening Mall. 
 
 THE THREE RED KNIGHTS; OR, THE BROTHERS' 
 
 VENGEANCE. By P. FiivAL. 
 
 "The one thing that strikes us in these stories is the marvellous dramatic skill of the 
 writers." — Shejield Independent. 
 
 In large imjycrial 8vo, price 6d. 
 
 THE SOCIAL ZOO; 
 
 Satuiical, Social, and Humorous Sketches by the Best Writers. 
 Copiously Illustrated in Many Styles hy well-hnown Artists. 
 
 NOW READY. 
 
 OUR GILDED YOUTH. By E. C. Grenville-Murray NICE GIIILS. By 
 
 R. Mounteney Jephson NOBLE LORDS. By E. C. Grenville-Murray. 
 
 FLIRTS. By E. C. Grenville-Murray OUR SILVERED YOUTH. 
 
 By E. C. Grenville-Murray MILITARY MEN AS THEY WERE. 
 
 By E. Dyne Fenton. 
 
 To BE FOLLOWED BY YOUNG WIDOWS— CLUB MEN— BEHIND THE SCENES— JILTS— 
 OUR YOUNG MEN— THE TUNEFUL QUIRE— ON H.B.M.'S SERVICE. 
 
 A Volume containing: the First Five Numbers of the "SOCIAL ZOO" 
 is now ready, in an attractive "binding-, price 3s. 6d. 
 
2c VIZETELLY &' CO.'S RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
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 diffdreut European vineyards, most of which he has evidently visited." — The Times. 
 
 "Mr. Henry Vizetelly 's books about different wines have an importance and a value far 
 greater than will be assigned them by those who look merely at the price at which they are pub- 
 lished."— Swnrfa.y Tivies. 
 
 Frice Is. Qd, ornamental cover ; or 2s. 6d. in elegant cloth hiTiding. 
 
 FACTS ABOUT PORT AND MADEIRA, 
 
 gleaned during a tour in the autumn of 1877. 
 By henry vizetelly, 
 
 Wine Juror for Great Britain at the Vienna and Paris Exhibitions op 1S73 and 1878. 
 With 100 Illustrations from Original Sketches and Photographs. 
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 Price Is. 6d. ornamental cover ; or 2s. 6d. in elegant cloth binding. 
 
 FACTS ABOUT CHAMPAGNE 
 
 AND OTHER SPARKLING WINES, 
 
 Collected during numerous Visits to the Champagne and other Viticultural Districts 
 of France and the Principal remaining Wine- producing Countries of Eurobe. 
 
 Illustrated with 112 Engrayings from Sketches and Photographs. 
 
 Price Is. ornamental coter ; or Is. 6d. cloth gilt. 
 
 FACTS ABOUT SHERRY, 
 
 GLEANED IN THE VINEYARDS AND BODEGAS OF THE JEREZ, & OTHER DISTRICTS. 
 Illustrated with numerous Engravings from Original Sketches. 
 
 Price Is. in ornamental cover ; or Is. Qd. cloth gilt. 
 
 THE WINES OF THE WORLD, 
 
 CHARACTERIZED AND CLASSED. 
 
 VIZETELLY cfc CO., 42, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND. 
 
^ 
 
Anrwr-iil- 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 
 
 JUL 26 1917 
 
 JAN 14 mi 
 
 REC'D LD 
 J0L22'64-8fj|« 
 
 AUG '^^ 1998 
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY