The Duchesse de Montbazon had been in her youth a fancy of the marquis,
his father. Was it not a fine stroke of irony to decide that this son
of his should marry the obscure daughter of madame?--the daughter about
whom very few had ever heard? Without the Chevalier's sanction,
miniatures had been exchanged. When the marquis presented him with
that of Mademoiselle de Montbazon, together with his desires, he had
ground the one under foot without glancing at it, and had laughed at
the other as preposterous. Since that night the marquis had ceased to
recall his name. The Chevalier's mother had died at his birth; thus,
he knew neither maternal nor paternal love; and a man must love
something which is common with his blood. Even now he would have gone
half-way, had his father's love come to meet him. But no; Monsieur le
Marquis loved only his famous wines, his stories, and his souvenirs.
Bah! this daughter had been easily consoled. The Comte de Brissac was
fully sixty. The Chevalier squared his shoulders and shifted his
baldric.
With forced gaiety he turned to his lackey. "Lad, let us love only
ourselves. Self-love is always true to us. We will spend our gold and
play the butterfly while the summer lasts. It will be cold soon, and
then . . . pouf! To-morrow you will take the gold and balance my
accounts."
"Yes, Monsieur. Will Monsieur permit a familiarity by recalling a
forbidden subject?"
"Well?"
"Monsieur le Comte de Brissac died last night," solemnly.
"What! of old age?" ironically.
"Of steel. A gallant was entering by a window, presumably to entertain
madame, who is said to be young and as beautiful as her mother was.
Monsieur le Comte appeared upon the scene; but his guard was weak. He
was run through the neck. The gallant wore a mask. That is all I know
of the scandal."
"Happy the star which guided me from the pitfall of wedded life! What
an escape! I must inform Monsieur le Marquis. He will certainly
relish this bit of scandal which all but happened at his own fireside.
Certainly I shall inform him. It will be like caviar to the appetite.
I shall dine before the effect wears off." The Chevalier put on his
hat and cloak, and took a final look in the Venetian mirror. "Don't
wait for me, lad; I shall be late. Perhaps to-night I shall learn her
name."
Breton smiled discreetly as his master left the room. Between a
Catharine of the millinery and a mysterious lady of fashion there was
no inconsiderable difference.