Balsamo, the Magician; or, The Memoirs of a Physician Read online

  CHAPTER XIII.

  NICOLE'S DOWER.

  Nicole aided her young mistress in her traveling preparations withardor which speedily dissipated the cloud risen that morning betweenmaid and mistress. The latter smiled as she found that she would haveno need to scold her.

  "She is a good, devoted girl and grateful," she mused; "only she hasweaknesses, like all womankind. Let us forget."

  On her part, Nicole was not the girl not to watch her mistress' face,and she saw the kindliness increasing.

  "I was a fool nearly to get into a scrape with her for that rascalGilbert, when she is going to town, where everybody makes a fortune."

  "Put my lace in my box. Stop! I gave you that box, I remember; and youwill want it, as you are going to set up housekeeping."

  "Oh, my lady," said Nicole, reddening, and replying merrily, "mywedding garments will be easily kept in no great space."

  "How so? I want you to be well off when you wed."

  "Have you found me a rich match?"

  "No, but a dower of twenty-five gold pieces."

  "You would give me such a treasure!" Emotion followed her surprise, andtears gushed into her eyes as she kissed Andrea's hand.

  Nicole began to think that Gilbert had rejected her from fear ofpoverty, and that now she had funds, she had better marry the ambitiousspark to whom she would appear more desirable. But a germ of pridemingled with the generosity, as she wanted to humble one who had jiltedher.

  "It looks as though you really loved your Gilbert," observed the lady."How incredible for something in the lad to please you. I must have alook at this lady-killer next time I see him."

  Nicole eyed her with lingering doubt. Was this deep hypocrisy orperfect ignorance?

  "Is Gilbert coming to Paris with us?" she inquired, to be settled onthe point.

  "What for? he is not a domestic and is not fitted for a Parisianestablishment. The loungers about Taverney are like the birds which canpick up a living on their own ground; but in Paris a hanger-on wouldcost too much, and we cannot tolerate that. If you marry him, you muststay here. I give you an hour to decide between my household or yourhusband's. I detest these connubial details and will not have a marriedservant. In any case, here is the money; marry, and have it as dower;follow me, and it is your first two years' wages, in advance."

  Nicole took the purse from her hand and kissed it.

  The lady watched her go away and muttered: "She is happy, for sheloves."

  Nicole in five minutes was at the window of Gilbert's room, at the backof which he was turning over his things.

  "I have come to tell you that my mistress wants me to go with her toParis."

  "Good!" said the young man.

  "Unless I get married and settled here."

  "Are you thinking still of that?" he asked, without any feeling.

  "Particularly, since I am rich from my lady dowering me," and sheshowed the bright gold.

  "A pretty sum," he said drily.

  "That is not all. My lord is going to be rich. He will rebuild thecastle, and the house will have to be guarded----"

  "By the happy mate of Nicole," suggested Gilbert with irony, notsufficiently wrapped up not to wound the girl, though she containedherself. "I refuse the offer, for I am not going to bury myself herewhen Paris is open to me also. Paris is my stage, do you understand?"

  "And mine, and I understand you. You may not regret me; but you willfear me, and blush to see to what you drive me. I longed to be anhonest woman, but, when I was leaning over the verge, you repulsed meinstead of pulling me back. I am slipping and I shall fall, and heavenwill ask you to account for the loss. Farewell, Gilbert!"

  The proud girl spun round without anger now, or impatience, havingexhausted all her generosity of soul.

  Gilbert quietly closed the window and resumed the mysterious businesswhich Nicole's coming had interrupted.

  She returned to her mistress with a deliberate air.

  "I shall not marry," she said.

  "But your great love?"

  "It is not worth the kindness your ladyship has done me. I belong toyou and shall ever so belong. I know the mistress which heaven gave me;but I might never know the master whom I give myself."

  Andrea was touched by this display of emotion, which she was far fromexpecting in the maid. She was of course ignorant that Nicole wasmaking her a pillow to fall back upon. She smiled to believe a humancreature was better than she estimated.

  "You are doing right," she said. "If bliss befalls me, you shall haveyour share. But did you settle with your sweetheart?"

  "I told him that I would have no more to do with him."

  She was restored to her former suspicions, and it was fated that thetwo should never understand each other--one with her diamond purity andthe other with her tendency to evil.

  Meanwhile, the baron had packed up his scanty valuables, and Labrieshouldered the half-empty trunk, containing them, to accompany hismaster out to where the corporal of guards was finishing the wine tothe last drop.

  This soldier gallant had remarked the fine waist and pretty limbs ofNicole, and he was prowling round the pool to see her again. He wasdrawn from his reverie by the baron calling for his carriage. Salutinghim, he called in a ringing voice for the driver to come up theavenue. Labrie put the trunk on the rack behind with unspeakable prideand delight.

  "I am going to ride in the royal coaches," he muttered.

  "But up behind, my old boy," corrected Beausire, with a patronizingsmile.

  "Who is to keep Taverney if you take Labrie, father?" inquired Andrea.

  "That lazy philosopher, Gilbert; with his gun he will have ample toeat, I warrant, for there is plenty of game at Taverney."

  Andrea looked at Nicole, who laughed and added:

  "He is a sly dog; he will not starve."

  "Leave him a trifle," suggested Andrea.

  "It will spoil him. He is bad enough now. If he wants anything we willsend him help."

  "He would not accept money, my lord."

  "Your Gilbert must be pretty proud, then?"

  "Thank heaven, he is no longer my Gilbert!"

  "Deuse take Gilbert, whoever's property he is," said Taverney, to cutshort what annoyed his selfishness. "The coach is stopping the way; getin, daughter."

  Andrea gave the house a farewell glance and stepped into the vehicle.The baron installed himself next her; Labrie in his glorious liveryand Nicole got upon the box, for the driver turned himself into apostillion and bestrode one of the horses.

  "But the corporal?" queried the baron.

  "I ride my charger," responded Beausire, ogling Nicole, who colored upwith pleasure at having so soon replaced the rustic lad with a stylishcavalier.

  Gilbert stood with his hat off at the gate, and, without seeming tosee, looked on Andrea alone. She was bending out of the opposite windowto watch the house to the last.

  "Stop a bit," ordered Baron Taverney; "hark you, master idler," hesaid to Gilbert, "you ought to be a happy dog to be left by yourself,as suits a true philosopher, with nobody to bother you or upbraid you.Don't let the house catch afire while you brood, and take care of thewatchdog. Go ahead, coachman!"

  Gilbert slammed the gates, groaning for want of oil, and ran backto his little room, where he had his little bundle ready. It alsocontained his savings in a silver piece.

  Mahon was howling when he came out, and straining at his chain.

  "Am I not cast off like a dog? why should not a dog be cast off likea man? No, you shall at least be free to seek your livelihood likemyself."

  The liberated dog ran round the house, but finding all the doorsclosed, he bounded the ruins.

  "Now we are going to see who fares the better--man or dog," saidGilbert. "Farewell, mansion where I have suffered and where alldespised me! where bread was cast to me with the reproach that I wasstealing it by making no return. Farewell--no, curses on you! My heartleaps with joy at no longer being jailed up in your walls. Forever beaccursed, prison, hell,
lair of tyrants!"