Led Astray and The Sphinx | Page 9

apparently yielding to the violence of his impressions,
allowed a few laudatory epithets to escape him; then, resuming his
direct allocution:
"Monsieur," he said, "allow me to return thanks to your talent; we shall
be indebted to it, I feel quite sure, for the preservation of these ruins,

which are the ornament of our district."
I abandoned at once my reserve, which could no longer be anything but
childish sulkiness, and I replied, as I thought I should, that he was
appreciating with too much indulgence a mere amateur's sketch; that I
certainly had the greatest desire of saving these beautiful ruins, but that
the most important part of my work threatened to remain quite
insignificant, for want of historical information which I had vainly tried
to find in the archives of the county-seat.
"Parbleu, monsieur," rejoined the horseman, "you please me greatly. I
have in my library a large proportion of the archives of the abbey.
Come and consult them at your leisure. I shall feel grateful to you for
doing so."
I thanked him with some embarrassment. I regretted not to have known
it sooner. I feared being recalled to Paris by a letter which I was
expecting this very day. Nevertheless, I had risen to make this answer,
the ill grace of which I strove to attenuate by the courteousness of my
attitude. At the same time, I formed a clearer idea of my interlocutor;
he was a handsome old man, with broad shoulders, who seemed to
carry with ease the weight of some sixty winters, and whose bright blue
eyes expressed the kindliest good feeling.
"Come! come!" he exclaimed, "let us speak frankly. You feel some
repugnance at mingling with that band of hare-brained scamps you see
yonder, and whom I tried in vain yesterday to keep out of a silly affair,
for which I now beg to tender you my sincere apologies. My name is
the Marquis de Malouet, sir. After all, you went off with the honors of
the day. They wished to see you; you did not wish to be seen. You
carried your point. What else can you ask?"
I could not help laughing on hearing such a favorable interpretation of
my unlucky scrape.
"You laugh!" rejoined the old marquis; "bravo! we'll soon come to an
understanding, then. Now, what's to prevent your coming to spend a
few days at my house? My wife has requested me to invite you; she has

heard in detail all your annoyances of yesterday. She has an angel's
disposition, my wife. She is no longer young, always ill; a mere breath;
but she is an angel. I'll locate you in the library--you'll live like a hermit,
if you like. Mon Dieu! I see it all, I tell you; these madcaps of mine
frighten you; you are a serious man; I know all about that sort of
disposition! Well! you'll find congenial company--my wife is full of
sense; I am no fool myself. I am fond of exercise; in fact, it is
indispensable to my health--but you must not take me for a brute! The
devil! not at all! I'll astonish you. You must be fond of whist; we'll have
a game together; you must like to live well--delicately, I mean, as it is
proper and suitable for a man of taste and intelligence. Well! since you
appreciate good living, I am your man; I have an excellent cook. I may
even say that I have two for the present; one coming in and the other
going out; it is a conjunction; the result is, a contest of skill, an
academic tourney, of which you will assist me in adjudging the prize!
Come! sir," he added, laughing ingenuously at his own chattering, "it's
settled, isn't it? I'm going to carry you off."
Happy Paul, thrice happy is the man who can say No! Alone, he is
really master of his time, of his fortune, and of his honor. One should
be able to say No! even to a beggar, even to a woman, even to an
amiable old man, under penalty of surrendering at hazard his charity,
his dignity, and his independence. For want of a manly No, how much
misery, how many downfalls, how many crimes since Adam!
While I was considering in my own mind the invitation which had just
been extended to me, these thoughts crowded in my brain; I recognized
their profound wisdom, and I said Yes! Fatal word, through which I
lost my paradise, exchanging a retreat wholly to my taste--peaceful,
laborious, romantic, and free--for the stiffness of a residence where
society displays all the fury of its insipid dissipations.
I demanded the necessary time for effecting my removal, and Monsieur
de Malouet left me, after grasping my hand cordially, declaring that he
was