secure his popularity? He was an universal favourite with the fair sex, and could boast the most unvaried success in all his love affairs; he was young, handsome, gallant, and unsparingly munificent upon all occasions where opportunities occurred of marking his devotion towards the high-bred females with whom he associated in the grande monde; in a word, thanks to the general infatuation he excited, the air of mystery thrown over the source of the Pactolus from which he derived his golden supplies rather embellished him with a certain mysterious charm, which seemed but to add to his attractions. Sometimes it would be said, with a careless smile, "What a fellow that Saint-Remy is: he must have discovered the philosopher's stone to be able to go the pace he does." And when it was known that he had caused himself to be attached to the legation of France to the court of Gerolstein, there were not wanting voices to assert that it was a "devilish good way of making an honourable retreat." Such was M. de Saint-Remy.
"Allow me," said the Count de——, presenting M. de Saint-Remy, "to introduce to your royal highness the Viscount de Saint-Remy, attached to the embassy of Gerolstein."
The viscount bowed profoundly, saying:
"May I trust your royal highness will deign to pardon my impatience in requesting the honour of this introduction during the present evening? I am, perhaps, unduly hasty in my wishes to secure a gratification I have so long aspired to."
"It will give me much pleasure, my lord, to welcome you to Gerolstein. Do you propose going thither immediately?"
"Your royal highness being in Paris diminishes very materially my desire to do so."
"I fear the peaceful contrast of our German courts will scarcely assort with a life of Parisian fashion, such as you have always been accustomed to."
"Permit me to assure your royal highness that the gracious kindness you have now shown me, and which it shall be my study to merit a continuance of in Gerolstein, would of itself far outweigh any attractions Paris may have had for me."
"It will not be my fault, my lord, should you see cause to alter your sentiments when at Gerolstein."
A slight inclination of Rodolph's head announced that the presentation was concluded, upon which the viscount bowed and retired. The prince, a practised physiognomist, was subject to involuntary likes and dislikes upon the first interview with an individual, and these impulses were in his case almost invariably borne out by after-circumstances. His first sensation after the exchange of the very few words we have related between himself and Saint-Remy was an unaccountable feeling of repugnance and aversion for the gay and fascinating young man; to his eye, the handsome features wore a sinister look, and danger seemed to lurk even in his honeyed words and smooth, polished manner.
We shall hereafter meet M. de Saint-Remy under circumstances differing widely and fearfully from the splendour of the position he occupied at his first interview with Rodolph. It will then be seen how far these presentiments were ill or well founded.
The presentation over, Rodolph, in deep meditation upon the singular rencontres effected by the hand of chance, bent his steps towards the winter garden. It was now the hour of supper, and the rooms were nearly deserted. The most retired spot in the hothouse was at the end of a clump of trees placed against the corner of a wall, and an enormous banana, covered with climbing plants, effectually concealed a small side door, masked by the trellis, and conducting to the banquetting-hall by a long corridor. This door, which was scarcely a yard distant from the tree above mentioned, had been left temporarily ajar. Sheltered by this verdant screen, Rodolph seated himself, and was soon lost in a profound reverie, when the sound of a well-known voice, pronouncing his name, made Rodolph start. It was Sarah, who, seated with her brother Tom on the other side of the clump of trees which effectually hid Rodolph from their view, was conversing with him in the English language. The prince listened attentively, and the following dialogue ensued:
"The marquise has just gone to show herself for a few minutes at Baron de Nerval's ball," said Sarah; "she has luckily quitted this place without once having an opportunity of exchanging a word with Rodolph, who has been looking everywhere for her. I still dread the influence he possesses over her, even unknown to herself—an influence it has cost me so much labour and difficulty to combat, and partly to destroy. However, to-morrow will rid me of any further fears of a rival who, if not effectually destroyed, might so powerfully derange and overthrow my plans. Listen to me, brother, for it is of serious matters I would speak to you. To-morrow witnesses the eternal ruin of my hated rival."
"You are mistaken, Sarah," answered Tom's well-remembered voice; "Rodolph never loved the marquise; of that I am certain; your jealous fears mislead you."
"It is time," returned Sarah, "that I enlightened you on this subject. Many things occurred during your last journey, and as it is necessary to take decisive steps even earlier than I had expected—nay, this very night—so soon as we quit this place, it becomes indispensably necessary we should take serious counsel together. Happily we are now quite alone, for the gay butterflies of the night have found fresh attraction around the supper-tables. Now, then, brother, give your close and undivided attention to what I am about to say."
"Proceed, I am all impatience."
"Well, before Clémence d'Harville met Rodolph, I feel assured the passion of love was wholly unknown to her, for what reason I have never been able to discover. She entertains the most invincible repugnance and aversion towards her husband, who perfectly adores her. There is some deep mystery in this part of the business I have never succeeded in fathoming. A thousand new and delightful emotions sprang up in the breast of Clémence after she became acquainted with Rodolph; but I stifled her growing love by the most frightful disclosures, or rather ingeniously invented calumnies, concerning the prince. Still, the void in her heart required an object to fill it, and chance having thrown M. Charles Robert in her way during a morning call she was making at my house, she appeared struck with his appearance, much after the manner in which we are attracted by a fine picture. Unfortunately, however, this man is as silly as he is handsome, though he certainly has a very prepossessing tout ensemble. I praised him enthusiastically to Madame d'Harville, exalted the nobleness of his sentiments, the elevation of his mind, and, as I knew her weak side, I worked upon her sympathy and pity, by representing him as loaded with every trouble and affliction unrelenting fate could heap upon a devoted but most innocent head. I directed M. Robert to assume a melancholy and sentimental air; to utter only deep sighs, and to preserve a gloomy and unbroken silence in the presence of Madame d'Harville. He carefully pursued the path marked out by me, and, thanks to his vocal skill, his fine person and the constant expression of silent suffering, so far engaged the interest of Madame d'Harville, that, ere long, she transferred to my handsome friend the warm and sympathising regard Rodolph had first awakened. Do you comprehend me thus far?"
"Perfectly; proceed."
"Madame d'Harville and Robert met only upon terms of intimacy at my house; to draw them more effectually together I projected devoting three mornings in the week to music, and my mournful ally sighed softly as the breath of evening while turning over the leaves of the music, ventured to utter a few impassioned words, and even to slip two or three billets among the pieces he copied out for the marquise to practise at home. I own I was more fearful of his epistolary efforts than even his powers of speech; but a woman always looks indulgently upon the first declaration of love she receives; so far, therefore, the written nonsense of my silly pupil did no harm, for, in obedience to my advice, his billets doux were very laconic. The great point was to obtain a rendezvous, and this was no easy matter, for Clémence's principles were stronger than her love; or, rather, her passion was not sufficiently deep to induce her to sacrifice those principles. Unknown, even to herself, the image of Rodolph still filled her heart, and seemed in a manner to preserve her from yielding to her weak fancy for M. Charles Robert—a fancy, as I well knew, far more imaginary than real; but, led on by my continual and exaggerated praises of this brainless Apollo,
