CHAPTER IX.
EUGENIE’S WAITING-MAID.
“‘Charles Patterson, London,’ was the name of the occupant of No. 512, Hotel du Louvre, Paris, and 512 was a small bedroom on the fifth floor, and looked down upon the busy Rue St. Honore. Charles was a very fair, girlish-looking boy, who, from the night he took possession of No. 512, kept his room entirely, and was served in his apartment daily with ‘cafe complet’ and two eggs in the morning, and with ‘bif-tek au pommes’ and haricots verts for dinner in the afternoon. At first the waiter had pointed significantly to the printed notice that having his meals thus served would cost an extra franc, but Charles had answered promptly, ‘Je le sais,’ and that had ended it, and he was free to eat where he liked. Nobody noticed or thought of him again until the close of the second day, when, as he stood looking down upon the street below, and reading the strange names on the signs, there came a knock at the door, and a servant handed in a card bearing the name of ‘Eugenie Arschinard.’ The lady herself was in the hall near the door, and in a moment was in the room alone with the young boy, whom she addressed as ‘Monsieur Sharles,’ and whom she regarded intently as he brought her a chair, and then proceeded to light the one candle which the room possessed.
“‘Mon Dieu!’ she began, in her pretty, half-French, half-English style; ‘vous etes un petit garcon! Mais n’importe. You make a very joli—what you call him?—waiting-maid pour moi. Ah! but you very like votre sœur. Poor leetle madame!’
“‘Oh, tell me of Anna, please! Tell me all you know, and what I am to do,’ Fred said, speaking in a whisper, as she had done, lest the occupants of the adjoining rooms should hear what it was necessary to be kept secret.
“‘Madame has a leetle babee,’ Eugenie said, and as Fred uttered an exclamation of surprise, she continued: ‘It is so, veritable, but I it not write, for fear to worry la mere. Both doing well, petite mother and babee, which makes a boy, and monsieur is—what you call it?—very much up; oui, very much; but I hasten. Monsieur comes to find me to-night a diner. I tell you all toute de suite.’
“Then very rapidly she communicated her plan for future action, interspersing her talk frequently with ‘Mon Dieu! you make so pretty girl Anglaise, with that fair hair and those blue eyes. Nobody can suspect.’
“And Fred followed her closely, and understood what he was to do, and, after she was gone, wrote to his mother a full account of his adventures thus far, and then waited with what patience he could command for what was to follow.
“As will have been inferred, Eugenie was better. The nervous depression and weakness had passed away, and, stimulated with this new excitement, she had never looked handsomer than when she consented at last to receive Haverleigh as a guest at her house. He had not seen her for weeks, or rather months; for since the time she left Chateau d’Or, until the day she visited Fred at the Louvre, he had not so much as heard the sound of her voice, and this long separation from her, and seeming indifference on her part, had revived his old passion for her ten-fold, and when at last she wrote, ‘Come and dine with me this evening,’ he felt as elated and delighted as the bashful lover who goes for his first visit to his fiancee.
“He found her waiting for him, dressed with elegant simplicity, and looking so fresh and young that he went forward eagerly to meet her, with his usual gush of tenderness, but she stepped backward from him, with something in her manner which kept him in check so that he only raised her hand to his lips, and then stood looking at her and marveling at her changed demeanor. And yet in most points she was not changed; she would not suffer him to touch her, and she compelled him to treat her with a respect he had not been accustomed to pay her in private; but otherwise she was the same brilliant, fascinating woman, bewildering him with her beauty and intoxicating him with her wit and sharp repartees.
“For the le petite madame and la petite garcon she made many inquiries, expressing a strong desire to see them, and telling him that as soon as the weather was more favorable she meant to go down to Chateau d’Or for a little visit. To this Haverleigh assented, for he was perfectly willing that Eugenie and Anna should be on terms of intimacy, especially as the former pretended to believe in the lunacy of the latter, and inquired now very anxiously how she was in her mind since the birth of her child.
“‘A little better,’ Haverleigh hoped, and Eugenie continued:
“‘I mean some time this summer, say in June, to have her here at my house for a little; the change will do her great good. You are willing, of course, when it will please me so much.’
“The eyes which looked at him were very soft and pleading, and Haverleigh could not resist them, and answered readily that Madame Anna should certainly come up to Paris; that he should be glad to have her come, especially as Madame Arschinard was so kind as to ask her. Then Eugenie grew more gracious and captivating, and told him of her strange sickness, which made her so nervous that she could not see her dearest friends, but she was so much better now, and glad to have monsieur to dine just as he used to do; then she told him as a great misfortune that Elise, her waiting-maid, had left her, and that she had made up her mind to advertise for an English girl to fill her place. She was so tired of the trickery of her own countrywomen that she wanted to try some other nation; did monsieur think an English girl would suit her? Haverleigh did not know, but advised her to try, and then the conversation drifted into other channels until the elegant little dinner was served.
“After dinner they drove to the opera, where Eugenie’s face was welcomed back again by a score or more of lorgnettes leveled at her as she sat smilingly unconscious of the attention she was attracting, and with her mind far more occupied with the boy sleeping quietly in No. 512 than with the gay scene around her.
“The next morning there appeared in the French journals an advertisement for a young English maid, who could speak a little French, and before night Eugenie had been interviewed by at least a dozen girls, of all ages and sizes, wanting the place, but none of them quite suited. She would wait a little longer, she said, hoping to get just what she desired. The next day, at a very unfashionable hour, she drove to the picture gallery at the Louvre, and bidding her coachman leave her there, stationed herself in one of the halls of statuary, which she knew to be less frequented than some others, especially at that hour of the morning. And there she waited anxiously, now glancing through the open door as a new comer entered, and again pretending to be very busy with some broken-nosed or armless block of marble.
“Meanwhile Charles Patterson had settled his bill at the Louvre, and with his traveling-bag, the only piece of luggage brought from home, he passed from the court into the Rue de Rivoli, and crossing the street walked rapidly to the gallery of the Louvre, where madame was waiting for him. There were a few words spoken between them, and then both walked across the grounds to the street which skirts the river, where Eugenie called a carriage, and bade the coachman drive to a second-rate furnishing house in an obscure part of the city, with which she had once been more familiar than she was now. It was a tolerably large establishment and supplied her with what she wanted, an entire outfit of a good substantial kind for a young English girl serving in the capacity of waiting-maid. There were several bundles, but Fred’s bag held them all, except the round straw hat which Eugenie carried herself, closely wrapped in paper.
“‘Drive us to the station St. Lazare,’ she said to the coachman, and in the course of half an hour Fred found himself alone with his companion in a first-class carriage, speeding along toward Versailles.
“Eugenie had spoken to the conductor, and thus secured the carriage to herself and Fred so that there was no one to see them when they opened the bag, and brought out one by one the different articles which were to transform the boy Frederic Strong into the girl Fanny Shader, who was to be Eugenie’s waiting-maid. For that was the plan, and with a little shrug of her shoulders and a significant laugh Eugenie said:
“‘Now I go to sleep—very much asleep—while you make the grand toilet;’ and closing her eyes she leaned back in her seat, and to all human appearance slept soundly, while Fred arrayed himself in his feminine habiliments, which fitted him admirably and became him remarkably well. Fair-haired, pale-faced, blue-eyed and small, he had frequently taken the part of a girl in the little plays his school companions were always getting up in Millfield, so he was neither strange nor awkward in his new dress and character, but assumed both easily and naturally as if they had belonged to him all his life, and when at last he said:
“‘I am ready; you can wake up now,’ and Eugenie opened her eyes; she started in astonishment and wonder, for instead of the delicate boy who had been her companion, there sat a good-sized girl, in a neatly-fitting brown stuff dress and sacque, with bands of white linen at the throat and wrists, and a dark straw hat perched jauntily upon the hair parted in the middle and curling naturally. The disguise was perfect, and Eugenie exclaimed delightedly:
“‘Oh, Mon Dieu, c’est une grande success. You make such joli girl. Nobody suspect ever. Now you must be bien attentif to me. You carry my shawl; you pick up my mouchoir, so;’ and she dropped her handkerchief to see how adroitly the new maid would stoop and hand it to her. It was well done, and Eugenie continued:
“‘You act perfectly—perfectly. Now you not forget, but walk behind me always with the parcels, and not talk much with the other domestiques. Ah, ciel, but you cannot, you cannot speak much French to them, and that be good; but to me you speak French toujours; you learn it, which must be better by and by when the great trial comes.’
“They were now near to Versailles, and, when the long train stopped, Eugenie and her maid stepped out unobserved by any one; and as there was an interval of two hours or more before they could return to Paris, Eugenie spent it in showing her companion the beauties of the old Palace and its charming grounds. And Fanny was very attentive and very respectful to her mistress, and acted the role of waiting-maid to perfection, though occasionally there was a gleam of mischief in the blue eyes, and a comical smile lurking about the corners of the mouth, as Fred answered to the new name, or held up his skirts as they walked over a wet piece of ground.
“‘Mon Dieu, but your feet are much large for the rest of you,’ Eugenie said, as she caught sight of his boots. ‘You must not show them so much.’
“So Fred kept his dress down, and wondered how girls managed to walk so well with a lot of petticoats dangling around their ankles, but behaved himself, on the whole, with perfect propriety, and by the time Eugenie’s residence in Paris was reached, had completely won his mistress’ heart. It was past the luncheon hour, but Eugenie had chocolate and rolls in her room, and Fanny served her with the utmost deference, and moved so quietly and gently among her fellow servants that she came into favor at once, and la jeune Anglaise was toasted at dinner by one of the footmen, who thought the new girl did not understand a word he said.
“It was two days before Haverleigh came to stop any length of time, and then he came to dine, and by appointment.
“‘I shall ring for you to do something for me after dinner, and you will be much careful,’ Eugenie said to Fred, who had never been so nervous and excited as he was in view of the approaching ordeal.
“The stuff dress had been exchanged for a pretty calico, and the white fluted apron which he wore had been bought at the Bon Marche. The light, abundant hair was covered with a bit of muslin called a cap, with smart blue ribbons streaming behind, and this, more than anything else, made Fred into a girl—a tidy-looking maid, who stood with beating heart in the upper hall, listening to the tones of Haverleigh’s voice, as they came from the salon below. How well Fred remembered that voice, and how his young blood boiled as he longed to rush upon the man and with all his feeble strength avenge his sister’s wrongs. But he must bide his time, and he waited till his mistress’ bell should summon him to her presence, and that of his detestable brother-in-law.
“Haverleigh was in excellent spirits that night. Indeed he had been in excellent spirits ever since the morning when he received the dispatch from Chateau d’Or announcing the birth of a son. Whether it would ever please him to have his wife fully restored to reason, and free to come and go with him in his journeying was doubtful. It was a rather pleasant excitement, having her at the chateau, where he could visit her when the mood was on him; but to have her with him in Paris and Nice, and London, where he wished to be free and untrammeled, was another thing.
“So Anna seemed likely to remain just where she was for an indefinite length of time, unless he allowed her as a great favor to visit Eugenie for a few weeks. But the son—his boy—was to be a great source of pride and happiness to him, and he had already formed many plans for the future of that son, and everything wore a brighter hue since that little life began at Chateau d’Or. Then, too, Eugenie was latterly more gracious in her demeanor toward him, and he had hopes that in time he might be reinstated in her good graces, and as he had a genuine liking for her, this of itself was a sufficient reason why he seemed so elated and even hilarious as he sat once more at her table and basked in the sunshine of her smile. To be sure she talked of Madame Haverleigh more than he cared to have her, but then she had conceived a great friendship for his wife, and it was for his interest to encourage it. So he, too, talked of madame and her health, and answered Eugenie’s questions regarding her family en Amerique. Was there insanity in the blood? Was it a large family? many sisters? any brothers? and were they nobilite?
At this question Haverleigh winced, for he was not certain how much nobility Eugenie would think there was in a shoe-shop, but he tried to answer her readily, and said the family was highly respectable, not nobility exactly, but good; that la mère was dead—and here he did not look straight at Eugenie lest the lie should show itself—that there was a sister Mary, a stronger girl every way than Madame Anna, though not so pretty, and a boy Fred, who was, or seemed to be, quite young, and of whom he did not remember much; he was more interested in girls, he said, and seldom took much notice of boys.
“Eugenie shrugged her shoulders significantly and as they had finished their dessert led the way to the drawing-room, telling him as she went that her advertising had been very successful, and brought her such a treasure of an English girl, Fanny Shader, who was so nice and respectable. Haverleigh cared nothing for Fanny Shader personally, but if she interested Eugenie he must be interested, too, and he said he was very glad madame was suited, and asked from what part of England Fanny came. London was a safe place to come from, and so Fanny’s home was there, and Eugenie said so, and fluttered about the salon until she remembered that she needed a shawl, and rang the bell for Fanny.
“Haverleigh was standing with his back to the fire, looking straight at the door, when Fanny came in, a flush on her cheek, but with a very modest expression in her blue eyes, which never glanced at Haverleigh but once. But in that glance they saw him perfectly from his head to his feet, and knew him for the same haughty Englishman who had so ignored Anna’s family in Millfield. Hating Haverleigh as he did, it was impossible for Fred not to show something of it, and there was a sudden gleam, a kindling, in his eyes, which attracted Haverleigh’s notice, and made him look more curiously after the supposed girl than he would otherwise have done. But there was not a shadow of suspicion in his mind as to the personality of the stranger, and when she was gone for the shawl he said, carelessly:
“‘And so that is the treasure? Nice, tidy-looking girl enough, but I should say she had a temper, judging from her eyes; looks a little like somebody I have seen.’
“Fanny had returned with the shawl by this time and so the conversation regarding her ceased, and Haverleigh thought and said no more of her, although she appeared several times during the evening in answer to her mistress, who wanted an unusual amount of waiting upon, it seemed to Haverleigh.
“‘She is certainly growing very nervous and fidgety, and I don’t much envy that new girl her post as my lady’s maid,’ he said to himself, and that was about all the thought he gave to Fanny Shader, whom for several days he saw every time he called upon Eugenie.