Lippincotts Magazine, January 1875 | Page 4

her furtive disappearance from Carlsruhe, and to
my conjectures of some amorous mystery between her and her Yankee
traducer, Kraaniff, I added gravely, "It is very creditable!"
"How, creditable--and droll?" repeated the honest man, evidently much
surprised at my own accumulating surprises. "Did not you hear?"
[Illustration: FATHER JOLIET.]
"Not the faintest word," I said, "but I am none the less gratified to find
this affair ending, as it should, in the presence of a lawyer. As for your
wedding-invitation, my good friend, you are a little tardy in delivering
it, for it is exactly to-day that I am obliged to attend at the marriage of
one of my friends, M. Fortnoye."

"Ah, that is a good joke!" cried Joliet, breaking into an explosion of
laughter and clapping me pleasantly on the shoulder--an action which
caused a slight frown on the part of Charles. "You always would have
your jest, Monsieur the American! Tease me and scare me as much as
you like: I like these hoaxes better before a wedding than after. Hold
that," he added, extending his hand as if it were a piece of merchandise.
I "held" it, and he went on, dwelling slowly on his words: "If you are at
Henri Fortnoye's wedding you will be at Francine Joliet's also, for both
of these persons are to be married at one church."
"Impossible!" I exclaimed, dropping the hand and stepping back.
"What! again?" said Joliet, his manly face visibly darkening. "Droll!
and creditable! and impossible! Why impossible?" Then he dropped his
head and looked angrily at the floor. "Ah, yes, even you," he said, his
eyes still fixed on the boards, "believed that a French girl, trained as
French girls are trained, would flirt and expose herself to remark; and
all on account of such a man as your compatriot, the other American!
Well! well! you ought to know your countrymen best."
"I know of no harm," I interposed hastily. "I should always have
thought Kraaniff hard to swallow as a mere matter of taste. I can but
recollect, Father Joliet," I went on more seriously, "that the last time I
met you you begged me not to talk of Francine if I would not break
your heart. I have to add to this the news brought me from Heidelberg,
that this Kraaniff was a serpent who had fascinated some young girl for
an approaching meal.--How dare you, Charles," I cried suddenly,
recalled to the consciousness of his presence by this souvenir of his
oratory, "stand here staring? Show the young man out directly, and pay
him."
I will not answer for Charles's having got much farther away than the
door. Joliet continued: "But his aunt knows him now for what he is.
Kraaniff, say you? I call him Kranich, though he had better change his
baptismal record than disgrace one of the best names in Brussels."
[Illustration: THE CATECHISM.]
"Frau Kranich, then, my old friend, is really his aunt?"
"Madame Kranich, whom I have known in your parlor, is really
Francine's godmother. Did you never know of all her secret kindness?
That rigid lady would commit a perjury to deny one of her own good
actions. Young Kranich has written her a letter confessing his lies.

Don't you know? The very same day when you were determined to
fight him in a duel--"
"Certainly, certainly," I said, a little confused. "We will change the
subject and leave my ferocity alone. Let us understand one another. In
regard to Fortnoye's marriage, was there not some talk of a Madame
Ashburleigh?"
"I believe you. Madame Ashburleigh is the very key of the manoeuvre.
Madame Ashburleigh--don't you perceive?--lost a child."
"For that matter, she has lost four. I know the lady confidentially, and
she told me their histories and present address. Lucia lies in Glasgow,
Hannibal at Nice, and Waterloo sleeps somewhere hereabout, as well as
another nameless little dear."
"She is a good woman. She has collected all her proofs, and has come
hither with them voluntarily--has perhaps already arrived. Brussels,
where two of her marmots rest, is one of her most frequent stations.
That censorious Madame Kranich made a scene, but she had to yield to
conviction."
"A censorious Madame Kranich! Is the young duelist married?"
"What? No, no! It is Francine's guardian I speak of. Of late years she
has become a sort of Puritan abbess, seeking the Protestant society
which abounds in Belgium, and lamenting her husband, whom they say
she used to drug with opium."
"Then is she not Kranich's aunt?"
"Oh yes, an aunt by marriage; but he is not her nephew: I will die
before I call him so."
"Listen," said I, "Father Joliet. You are as full of information as an
oracle, but you are not coherent. This month past I have