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Marie Antoinette Romances, Vol 2: The Mesmerist's Victim

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<h2>CHAPTER XXIII. FATHER AND DAUGHTER.</h2> AT the end of the walk, Andrea perceived her father and the marshal, strolling before the vestibule as they awaited her. They seemed the happiest brace of friends in the world: they were arm in arm like a new Orestes and Pylades. They seemed to brighten up still more at the sight of the girl, and made one another notice her beauty, enhanced by her vexation and the swiftness of her steps. The marshal saluted the girl as he might have done were she the officially proclaimed royal mistress. This did not escape Taverney: it delighted him; but this mixture of gallantry and respect surprised the receiver. For the skilled courtier could put as much in one bow as the rogue in the comedy can put into one pretended Turkish word. Andrea replied with a courtsey as ceremonious, and with charming grace invited them into her suite. The duke admired the elegant daintiness which made the prim rooms not a palace but a fane. He and the baron took armchairs and the young hostess sat on a folding-chair, with one elbow on her harpsichord. “Young lady,” began the marshal, “I bring you from his Majesty all the compliments which your enchanting voice and consummate musicianly skill won from the auditors yesterday. His Majesty feared to make jealous folk cry out if he praised you too publicly. So he charged me to express the pleasure you caused him.” All blushes, the girl was so lovely that the marshal continued as though he were speaking for himself. “The King affirmed that he had never seen any person in the court who so bountifully united gifts of the mind with those of the physique.” “You forget the qualities of the heart, my lord; Andrea is the best of daughters,” added the baron, gushingly. For a space the marshal feared that the old rogue was about to weep. Full of admiration for this effort of paternal sensitiveness, he exclaimed: “The heart—Alas! you are the sole judge of what tenderness may be enclosed in that heart. Were I in my twenty-fifth year, I would lay my life and fortune at her feet.” As Andrea did not yet know how to meet the courtier’ fulsome compliments, all the duke earned was a murmur. “The King wishes to be allowed a testimonial of his satisfaction, and he charges your father, the baron, to transmit it to you. What am I to answer his Majesty on your behalf?” “Your grace is to assure his Majesty of my entire gratitude,” replied Andrea who saw in the exaggeration only the respect of a subject to the sovereign. “Tell the King that I am overwhelmed with kindness at being thought of, and that I am unworthy the attention of so mighty a monarch.” Richelieu appeared enthusiastic after this reply, uttered in a steady voice without any hesitation. He took her hand and kissed it respectfully, saying, as he gloated over her: “A queenly hand, a fairy foot: wit, will and candor. Ah, my lord, what a treasure! It is not a lady you have there, but a queen.” He took leave, while Taverney swelled with pride and hope. He was a trifle perplexed at being alone with his daughter, for her looks pierced him like a diver penetrating the sea with his electric lamp-ray. “The Duke of Richelieu was saying, father, that the King had entrusted some token of his gratification to you—what is it, please?” “Ha, she is interested,” uttered the old noble: “I would not have believed it. So much the better, Satan!” Slowly he drew from his pocket the jewel-case given him by the marshal overnight, in the same way as fond papas produce the box of candies for the pet child. “Jewels!” ejaculated Andrea. “Do you like them?” It was a string of pearls of great price; diamonds interlinked them: a diamond clasp, ear-rings, and a tiara for the headdress gave to the whole set the value of some thirty thousand crowns at the least. “Heavens, father, the King must make some mistake,” cried Andrea, “it is too handsome. I should be ashamed to wear them. What dresses have I to go with such gems?” “I like your finding fault with them for being too rich,” sneered the baron. “You do not understand me, sir, I only say they are above my station.” “The donor of these gems is able to give you a wardrobe in keeping.” “But such bounty!” “Do not my services warrant them?” “Oh, I beg your pardon, I forgot them,” said Andrea, bending her head but unconvinced. She closed the case after a pause. “I cannot wear such ornaments,” said she, “while you and my brother stand in need of the necessities of life; this superfluity would hurt my eyes in thinking of your wants.” Taverney pressed her hand and smiled. “Do not trouble yourself about that, my child,” he said. “The King does this more for me than you. We are in favor, darling. It would not be like a respectful subject or a grateful woman not to appear before our sovereign in the ornaments he kindly presented.” “I shall obey, my lord.” “And do it with pleasure. The set does not seem to be to your taste?” “I am not a judge of such things.” “Know then that those pearls are worth alone some fifty thousand livres.” “It is strange,” said the girl, clasping her hands, “that his Majesty should make me such a present: only think!” “I do not understand you, miss!” said Taverney in a dry tone. “Everybody will be astounded if I wear such jewelry.” “Jewels are made to astound the world. Why in your case?” said he in the same tone, with a cold and overbearing air which made her wince. “A scruple.” “This is strange, to hear you raise scruples where I do not see any. It takes these candid girls to recognize evil and see the snake in the grass though so well hidden that no one else perceives it. Long live the maiden of sixteen who makes old grenadiers like me blush!” Hiding her confusion in her pearly hands, Andrea moaned: “Oh, brother, why are you so far?” Did Taverney hear this or only guess it by the marvellous perspicacity which was his? He changed his tone, at all events, and taking both her hands, he asked: “Am I not by you to counsel and love you? do you not feel proud to contribute to the welfare of your brother and myself?” “Yes,” she answered. He concentrated a look full of caresses upon her. “You will be the queen of Taverney,” he said, “to take up Richelieu’s words. The King has distinguished you: the Dauphiness also,” he added quickly, “and in the family of these illustrious personages you are to build up your future, while making their lives the happier. Friend of the princess and the King, what bliss! Remember Agnes Sorel. She restored honor to the French crown. All good Frenchmen will venerate your name. You may be the staff in his old age to the ruler of France. Our glorious monarch will cherish you like a daughter, and you will reign over France by the right of beauty, courage and fidelity.” “Why, how can I be all this?” demanded she, opening her astonished eyes. “My dear, I have often told you that people in society must be taught to like virtue by its being made agreeable. Virtue, prudish, lugubrious, whining psalms, makes those flee who were ardently going up to it. Give yours all the lures of coquetry, and even of vice. Be so lovely that the court will speak of none but you: so loveable that the King cannot do without you; be so secret and reserved, save for our master, that they will attribute the power to you before you grasp it.” “I do not follow you in this last point,” observed Andrea. “Let me guide you: execute without understanding, which is the best course in a wise and generous creature like you. By the way, to begin with the first point, here is a hundred louis to line your purse. Provide a wardrobe worthy of the rank to which you are summoned since the King has kindly distinguished us.” He gave the gold to his daughter, kissed her hand and went out. He walked so briskly up the alley by which he came that he did not notice Nicole there, chatting with a nobleman who whispered in her ear. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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