THE LITTLE MARQUIS.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIX, Issue 33, 15 May 1891, Page 23

THE LITTLE MARQUIS.

♦ (By HANNA.H Lynch, ia the New York Freeman's Journal.) {Continued.') Hbbtk was a decorous sightseer, who left others much in the dark as to his private impressions of what he saw. The tower, he admitted, was very big and cold. He did not think it would give him much satisfaction to hare been born in the chill cavernous chamber wherein William h.d first se^n the light, while the bombastic lines upon the conquest of the Saxons, read to him in a strong Norman accent, gave him the reversa of a desire to explore that benighted land, With his hands in his pockets he stood and peeped through the slit in the stone wall, nearly as high as the clouds, whence Robert is supposed to have detected the charming visage of Arietta, wasbing linen below, with a keenness of sight nothing less diabolical than his name. "I couldn't see anybody down so far, could you?" he asked ; ajid then his attention was caught by the big rain dropß that were beginning to fall in black circles upon the unroofed stone stairs, Tb» concierge watched the sky a moment, then lifted Herve into his arms, and hurried down the innumerable 6teps to the shelter of his own cosy parlor. Excitement and fatigue were telling upon the child, who looked nervous and scared. The rain drops bad gathered the force and noise of several waterfalls pouring from the heavens with diluvian promise. Already the landscape was drenched and blotted out of view. An affrighted peasant, in saiott large enough to shelter the woman and her family of nursery rhyme, darted down th 3 road, holding a coloured umbieila as big as a tent. The roar of thunder came from afar, and a flash of lightning broke through the vapory veil, making Herve blink like a distracted owl caught by the dawn. Oh, if he were orly fback Barely at SaintLaurent, or if be could hold the hand of his dear Countess ! No, he would not explore any more un'il he was a grown-up man. A howi of thunder and a child's feeble cry — Meanwhile, confusion reigned in the castle. Men and women flew hither and tbither, screaming blame upon each other. In an agony of apprehension the butler ordered the family coach and wa§ driven into town, wondering hjw M de Ydrvainville wonld take the news if anything were to happen to remove the source of his wealth and local importance. Parbleu I he would not be the man to tell him. Crossiug the Place de Trinite, he caught sight of Mere Lescaut gazing out upon the deluged square. In a happy icspira ion he determined to consult her, .<uid while he was endeavouring to make his knock heard above the tempest and to shield his eyes from the glare of the lightning flashes, Mere Lescaut thrust her white cap out through the upper half of the shop door and screamed, "You are looking for M. le Marquis de Saint-Laurent, and I saw him cross the square with Colonel Larou'se this afternoon." " Diable 1 diable 1 roared the distracted butler. "I passed the colonel on the road an hour ago." The endless moments lost in adjuring the gods in voluble faith in calamity, in imprecations at ihe storms and shiveriDg assertions of discomfort whicn never mend matters, and at last the dripping colonel and sweaiii g t ut'.er meet. M. le Marquis de Saint-Laurent and Baron de Vervainvil c was found asleep amidst the historic memories of Robert and Arietta. This escapade brought M. de Vervainvilb down from Paris with a new tutor. The tutor was very yourg, very modern, and very cynical. He was not the least bit interested in Herve, though rather amused when, on the second day of their acquaintance, the boy asked : " Monsieur, are jou tngage 1 to be married ? " The tutor was happy to say that he had not that misfortune. *' Is it, then, a misfortune? lam very glad that lam engaped, though I have heard my nuise say that married people are not often happy." The tutor thought it not improbable that such an important personage as the Marquis de Saint-Laurent had been officially betrothed to some desirable parti ot infant years, and aeked her age and name. "The Countess de Fresney. S.ie is not a little girl, and at present her husband is alive, but I dare say he will be dead soon. You know, Monsieur, she is a great deal older than I am, but I Bhall like that much better. It will not be necessary for me to learn much, for Bhe will know everything for me, and I caa amuse myself. I will take you to see her to-morrow. Sac is very beautiful— but not so beautiful mmy mamma— and I love her very dearly."

It occurred to the cynical tutor that the Countess might be bored enough in this uncheerf ul place to take an interest in so captivating a person as himself. But when they arrived at Fresney, they learned that the Oountess was seriously ill. Herve began to cry when be was refused permission to see his friend, and at that moment M. le Comte, an erratic middle-aged tyrant, held ia mortal terror by his dependents, burst in upon him with a vigorous "Ho, hoi the little marquis, my rival. Come hither, sirrah, and let me run the sword of vengeance through your body." And the merry old rascal began to roll his eyes and matte strange guttural sounds for his own amusement and Herve's fright. " I do not care if you do kill me, M. le Comte," the boy sobbed. " You are a wicked man, and it is because you make dear Madame unhappy that she is so ill. You are as wicked and as ugly at the ogre in the story ebe gave me last Christmas. But she will get well and you will die, and then I will marry her, and she will never be unhappy anymore," " Take him away before I kill him— the insolent little jackanapes I In love with a married woman, and telling it to her husband I Ho, ho 1 so lam an ogre I Very well, let me make a meal of you." With that he produced an orange and* offered it to Herve, who turned on his heel and stumbled out of doors blinded with tears. But the Countess did not get well. She sent for Herve one day and kissed him tenderly. " My little boy, my little Herve, yon will soon be alone again* But you will find another friend, and by and by you will be happy .'« " Never, never, if you die, Countess. I shall not care for any - thing, not even for my new pony, though it has such a pretty white star on its forehead. Ido not want to grow up, and I shall never be married now nor— nothing," he cried with quivering lips. That evening bis friend died, and the news was brought to Hervi as he and the tutor sat over their supper. Herve pushed away his plate, and took his scared and desolate little heart to the solitude of his own room. During the night the tutor was awakened bj his call. " Monsieur, please tell me what happens when people die." " Ma fox, there is nothing more about them," cried the tutor, " And what are those who do not die supposed to do ? " " To moderate their feelings — and go to sleep." " But I cannot sleep, Monsieur. I am very unhappy. Oh, I wish it had been the Count. Why doesn't God kill wicked persons? Is it wicked to wish the Count to be dead, Monsieur ? " " Very. " " Then 1 must be dreadfully wicked, for I would like to kill him myself if I were big and strong." At breakfast next day he asked if people did not wear very black clothes when their friends died, and indited a curious epistle to his father begging permission to wear the deepest mourning for the lady he was to have married. Vested in black, his little mouse-coloured head looked more pitiful and vague than ever, as he sat out the long funeral service ia the church of St. Gervais and lost himself in endless efforts to count the candles and understand what the strange catafalque and velvet pall in the m.ddle of the church meant, and what had become of the Countess. After the burial his tutor took him to the cemetery. The bereaved child carried a big wreath to lay upon the grave of his departed lady love. Kneeling there, upon the same mission, was M. le Comte, shedding copious tears and apostrophising the dead he had made it a point to wound in life. Herv6 knelt opposite him and stared at him indignantly. Why should he cry 1 The Countess had not loved him nor had he loved the Countess. The boy flung himself down on the soft earth and began to sob bitterly. The thought that he would never again see hie lost friend took full possession of him for the first time and be wanted to die himself. Disturbed by this passionate outbreak, the Count rose, brushed the earth from his new trousers with a mourning p cket handkerchief already drenched with his tears, and proceeded to lift Herve. " The dear defunct was much attached to you, little marquis," he said, and began to wipe away Herve's tears with the handkerchief made sacred by his own. " You were like a boul to her." " I don't want you to dry my eyes, monaieur," Herve exploded, bursting from his enemy's arms. "1 do not iike you, an I I always thought you would die soon and not midame. It isn't just, and I will not be friends with you. I shall hate you always, for you are a wicked man and you were cruel to madame." The Count, who was not himself accounted sane by his neighbours, looked at the amused and impassible tutor, and significantly touched his forehead. " Hereditary," he muttered, and stood to make way for Herve. 'Ihe birds were singing deliciously, tha late afternoon sunshine gathered above the quiet treps (made quieter by here and there an unmoveable cyprus and a melancholy yew, fit symbols of the rest of dsath) iato a paie goldeu mißc shot with slanting rays of light, and the violets' was the only scent to shake by suggestion the eensa of soothing negation of all emotion or remembrance. Out upon the i road, running like a broad ribbon to the town, unanimaled in the

gentle illumination of the afternoon, the tutor and Herve met the Colonel limping alon?, one mi?h: iaia^in; upon the sound of a pro longed boom. Herve'a tears ware dried, but his face looked sorrowful and stained enough to spring tears of sympathy to any kind eyes. The Colonel drew up, touched vis cip, and uttered his customary signal with nurd than his customiry gruflaess. Herve stood his ground firmly, though he winced, for he was v delicate child, unused to rough sounds. " How goes it M. le Marquis ? How goes it ? &boutel the Colonel. "M. le Colonel, it goee very badly with me, but I try to bear it. My tutor tell me that men do not fret ; I wish I knew how they managa not to do so when they are sad. I did want to grow up soon and explore the world like my grandpapa, and then I should have married the Countess of Fresney if her husbaod were dead. Bnt now everything is different, and I dont even want to see the tower of William the Conqueror again. I don't want to grow up, I dent want anything now." " Poor little man 1 " said the Colonel, patting his shoulder. 11 You've lost a friend, but you will gain others, and perhaps you'll be & great soldier one of these days, like the Little Corporal." Herve shook hia head dolorously. He saw nothing ahead but unpleasant lessons, varied by sad excursions to the Countess' grave. The unhappy little Marquis was moping and fading visibly. He could not be got to take an interest in bis lessons, and he proudly ■trove to conceal the fact that he was afraid of his tutor's mocking smile. The news of bis ill health reached M. de Vervainville in Pans, and at once brought that alarmed gentleman down to Falaise. Oo Herve's life depended his town luxuries and his importance as a landed proprietor. Was there anyihiDg his son wished for ? Herv6 reflected for a while, then raised his mouse -coloured head and sighed his own little sigh. He thought he should like to see Colonel Larousse. And so it came that one morning, stariug out of the window, the boy saw a familiar military figure limping up the avenue. Herv6's worried small countenance almost glowed with expectation as he rushed to welcome his visitor, the sound of whose boom and the tap of his wooden leg upon the paraquet, as well as his dreadful •baggy tyebrows, seemed even cheerful. "Do you think, Monsieur, 1 ' Herve asked gravely, "that you Would mind having for a friend such a very little boy as I ? " The Colonel cleared hia throat and felt his eyes required the lame operation, though he concealed that fact from Herve. " Boom I Touchez la, mon brave." Never yet had Herve heard speech so h2arty and so republican , It astonished him and filled him with a sense of perfect ease and trust. It was like a free breath in oppressive etiquette — the child Prince's first mud-pie upon the common road of humanity. Herv6 became excited, and confided to the Colonel that bis father had ordered a toy sailing boat for him, and that there was going to be a ball at Sairjt«Laurent in honour of his birthday, though he was not quite sure that he would enjoy that so much as the boat, for he had never danced and could not play any games like other children. Still if Colonel Laroußse would come, they could talk about soldiers. Come ? Of course the Colonel came, looking in his brushed uniform as one of the heroes home from Troy, and Her\e admired him prodigiously. The birthday ball was a great affair. Guests came all the way from Caen and Lisieux, and Herve, more bewildered than elated, stood beside his splendid father to receive them. Ladies in lovely robes, shedding every delicate scent like flowers, petted him, and full-grown men, looking at these ladies, made much of him. They told him that he was charming, but he did not believe them. One cannot be both ugly and charming, little Herve thought, with much bitterness and an inclination to cry. Their compliments gave him the same singular sensations evoked by the tutor's smile. " I do not know any of tbest people," he said sadly to Colonel Larousse. " I don't think a ball very cheerful, do you ? It makes my head ache to hear so many strange voices and feel so much smaller than anybody else. My papa amuses himself, but I would like to run away to my boat. " Boom ! Mon Camarade, a soldier sticks to his post." Herve sighed, and thought if the Countess had been here that he would have sat beside her all the evening and have held her hand. And the knowledge that he would never again hold her hand, and that so many loDg weeks have passed since fond lips had kissed his face and a sweet voice had called him " Little Herve, little boy," brought tears of desperate selt-pitying pain to his eyes. In these large illuminating salons, vexed with the mingled odours of flowers and scented skirts, by the scraping of fiddles and the fljing feit of laughing dancers, unmindful of him as other than a queer, quiet boy in velvet and Aleceon lace, with a plain gray little face and owlish eyes that never smiled, Herve felt more alone than ever he had felt since the Countess's death. Stealthily he made his esc.pe through the long open wi dj\v and ran down the dewy lawn. How gratefully the cool air tasted and the lovely stillness of tnc night after the aching brilliancy with-

in I Herv6" assured himself that it was a pleasant relief, and hoped there would net be many more balls at the castle. The lake fringed the iawn, and moored against tha branches ot a weeping willow was his toy boat just as he had left it ia the afternoon. It would look so pretty, he believed, sailing under the rising moon that touched the water Bilver and the bine stars that showed so peacefully upon it. He unknotted the string, and gaily the little boat swam out upon his impulsion. If only the Countess could come back to him, he thought, wih his boat ho would be perfectly happy. ■' Bat I am so alone among them all," he said to himself, with his broken sigh . " I wish somebody loved me as little children are loved by their mammae." The boat had carried away the string from his loose grasp, and he reached out his arm upon the water to recover it. A. soft, moist bank, a small, eager foot upon it, a frame easily tilted by an insteady movement, the dark water broken into circling babbles npoo a child's shrill cry of terror, and closing impassably over the body of the poor, forlorn little Heive and his pretty velvet suit and Alengon lace— this is what the stars and the pale, calm moon saw ; and over there upon the further shore of the lake floated the toy boat as placidly as if it had worked no treachery and bad not led to the extinction of an illustrious name and face. "Where is M. le Marquis?" demanded M. de Vervainville, interrupting an enchanting movement upon discovering bis son's absence from the salon. A search, a hurry, a scare, music stopped, wine-glasses at the buffet lain down untouched, ices rejected, fear and anxiety upon eveiy face. M. le Marquis is not in the saloons, nor in the tutor* apartment, nor in his own. The grounds are searched, " Herv6 " an* "M. le Marquis " ringing through the silence unanswered. His boat was found and the impress of small footsteps upon the wet bank; M. le Marquis de Saint Laurent and Baron de Vervainville was drowned. ( Concluded)