The Chateau of Montplaisir

LOUIS, having waltzed rapturously with old Suzette in the corridor for fully ten minutes, returned to the saloon—ironically called the grand saloon—and began to pace up and down, showing his joy in every motion of his graceful figure and every expression of his handsome and vivacious countenance. His heart and mind were full of Julie, and as he murmured her name to himself, the rain stopped, the clouds parted softly and swiftly, and a flood of sunlight burst into the room.

“Julie, perhaps, is at Dinard,” Louis kept repeating to himself until he actually persuaded himself that she must be there.

Then looking at his watch and seeing that it was after twelve o’clock, he determined to hunt up Madame de Beauregard. He rushed to the barrack which he occupied as a bedroom, and made a toilet suitable for calling upon ladies in the morning—his one white flannel suit, his one pair of black silk stockings, his one pair of white shoes, and a new straw hat with a black ribbon around it. He surveyed himself in the glass with the earnestness of a man desirous to please, but in truth he need have given himself small concern on that score, because he had that combination of good looks, good manners, good temper, and ineffable impudence which is always irresistible to women.

He did not know where the Comtesse de Beauregard was staying in the town, but that was easily to be ascertained. Wherever Madame de Beauregard went she always made a commotion. She carried with her a retinue, not of dogs, cats, and birds, such as ladies of her age usually affect, but of human beings, mostly men.

Louis, walking rapidly through the sunny streets of the town, gay with the morning gaiety of Dinard, bought a newspaper at the first kiosk he found, and in the list of arrivals at one of the most fashionable hotels he saw the name of Madame de Beauregard, with three maids and two valets, Monsieur Eugène de Contiac, and Monsieur Bertoux, advocate. Louis’s joy was slightly dashed at the absence of Julie’s name, and he was walking disconsolately enough along the shady street when he suddenly ran almost into the arms of Madame de Beauregard. And there, standing a little way off, smiling, blushing, and dimpling, was Julie. She was radiant, all in white except a splendid red rose which bloomed upon her breast.

The Comtesse de Beauregard, who would never see sixty again, small, elegant, with a laughing devil in her eye, but with a countenance not devoid of good-nature, was dressed in a costume which matched Julie’s exactly, red rose and all. A sailor hat was tipped back upon her elaborately frizzed white hair, for the old lady scorned disguise in any form, and wore frankly, without any make-up, the costumes which would have suited a chit of sixteen. Her short white skirt showed her little feet encased in the most daring of embroidered red silk stockings, which she evidently wore to be seen. She carried a dainty white parasol in her hand, and playfully prodding Louis in the ribs, cried:

“Here is our young cavalier from Algiers. Naughty boy! Why didn’t you let me know that you were here? Men are so scarce nowadays, and hard to catch.” And she tweaked Louis’s left ear playfully.

Louis, his eyes still on Julie and his hat in his hand, murmured:

“I only found out an hour ago that you, madame, were here, and I was on my way to your hotel to call upon you.”

“I dare say you are telling the truth,” answered the old lady, twirling her parasol around her head gaily. “The men of the present day haven’t spirit enough to tell a good, robust lie. In my day it was the fashion for gentlemen to tell great big lies to ladies, but the whole sex has reformed now almost past endurance. By the way, I understand you have inherited a fine, large chateau close by.”

Julie, meanwhile, had opened her mouth several times to speak, but in vain. It was always difficult for other women to be heard when Madame de Beauregard was present.

“Fine! No, madame. I am thinking of changing the name from the Chateau of Montplaisir to the Chateau of Monmisère, or calling it the chateau of rats and mice, or something of the sort. But it is large!”

“And have you seen or heard anything of a grotesque old party of your name, a soap-boiler by trade, who is extremely anxious to be considered a member of your family?” asked the old lady.

Julie’s mouth was opened for the fourth time to speak, but, as usual, Madame de Beauregard gave her not the ghost of a chance to be heard.

“He came to see me this morning,” replied Louis.

“You are indebted to me for that,” cried Madame de Beauregard. “You know he is as rich as Aladdin, and quite respectable. If he were not so tediously correct in his conduct, and of such tiresome propriety, I think I should marry him for his money. You know he was a friend of Julie’s father, my brother, who made him trustee of her fortune, and as I have charge of Julie I have met Monsieur de Latour several times. I told him about you, and put the notion into his head of establishing some sort of relationship with you. When we were in Algiers you made a very favourable impression upon me. I really believe you capable of mischief, unlike that poor rag of a man, my nephew, Eugène de Contiac. He is in love, you know, with old De Latour’s niece Mélanie, who is twice as pious as Eugène. To think that I should not only have a pious man in my family, but should run the risk of the type being perpetuated! However, my family were all born to ill luck.”

“I am a thousand times obliged to you,” answered Louis, his eyes glued on Julie, who made a last desperate effort to speak, but was cut short promptly by Madame de Beauregard.

“Now we have the finest joke in the world afoot to play off on old De Latour. He is advertising in the newspapers for a companion for that niece of his, and I put it into Julie’s head to try to get the place. Old De Latour has never seen her, you know. What larks we shall have when we get Julie established as Mélanie’s companion. She will have strict orders from me to get some of the piety and propriety out of that girl, because I don’t want any piety or propriety in my family. I have too much already.”

Louis felt like disputing this proposition, and Julie again opened her lips to speak, but, as usual, it was in vain.

“So now,” cried the old lady, “you may look out for some amusement! I intend to have a gay time at Dinard. General Granier is here, you know, and a few men. I don’t call every biped wearing trousers a man, if you please. It is only those with life and spirit in them who, I think, deserve the name. Come, Julie, it is time for our lesson in skirt-dancing.”

As the old lady, seizing Julie, skipped off, Julie turned her head and managed to articulate one sentence only, and this was:

“Good morning, monsieur.”

Louis stood still and swore silently at Madame de Beauregard, but he was happy, after all, for Julie was there. And then, what delicious possibilities of seeing her were involved in that practical joke which Madame de Beauregard proposed to play on Monsieur de Latour.

With these thoughts animating him Louis determined to carry out his original intention and leave cards on the ladies at their hotel. This he did, feeling as if he were walking on air. Then he strolled about the town for an hour or two, and presently, led by his good genius, he went down to the beach, where the sea was like molten gold under the summer sky. The first object that met his eye among the crowd of bathers was Madame de Beauregard, in a bright red bathing suit, disporting herself like a mermaid in the waves. And oh, joy and rapture, a little way off stood Julie, looking like a tall lily flower in her pretty white gown! Louis flew toward her and received a welcome from her eyes.

“Mademoiselle,” he whispered, “do you know what my first thought was when I inherited the Chateau of Montplaisir?”

It was one of those questions which require no answer. Julie, whose eyes were usually dancing with merriment and as fearless as a child’s, lowered her long lashes, but in a moment she raised her glance and said:

“Was it of me you were thinking, monsieur?”

“Yes, yes, yes, mademoiselle! And Monsieur de Latour has offered to adopt me as his nephew and give me three hundred thousand francs if I will recognise him as the head of the younger branch of the family. O Julie, dearest!”

At that moment Madame de Beauregard, in her red bathing suit, came rushing out of the water and dashing up to Louis, shrieked gaily:

“Come, now, go and get a bathing suit and come into the water with me, and I will show you how to turn a somersault.”

Louis fled, hotly pursued for a short distance by the old lady; but years and wind told, and Madame de Beauregard had to return to the sea, keeping her eyes open for a young man more complaisant than Louis. But Julie walked up and down the sand in the blazing sunlight, listening to the quick beating of her own heart which was flooded with the sunshine of life and love.