The Deserted Woman | Page 8

epistle forth to face
so many chances of being thrown on the fire. He was distracted by
innumerable conflicting ideas. But by dint of inventing chimeras,
weaving romances, and cudgeling his brains, he hit at last upon one of
the hopeful stratagems that are sure to occur to your mind if you
persevere long enough, a stratagem which must make clear to the most
inexperienced woman that here was a man who took a fervent interest
in her. The caprice of social conventions puts as many barriers between
lovers as any Oriental imagination can devise in the most delightfully
fantastic tale; indeed, the most extravagant pictures are seldom
exaggerations. In real life, as in the fairy tales, the woman belongs to
him who can reach her and set her free from the position in which she
languishes. The poorest of calenders that ever fell in love with the
daughter of the Khalif is in truth scarcely further from his lady than
Gaston de Nueil from Mme. de Beauseant. The Vicomtesse knew
absolutely nothing of M. de Nueil's wanderings round her house;
Gaston de Nueil's love grew to the height of the obstacles to overleap;
and the distance set between him and his extemporized lady-love
produced the usual effect of distance, in lending enchantment.
One day, confident in his inspiration, he hoped everything from the
love that must pour forth from his eyes. Spoken words, in his opinion,
were more eloquent than the most passionate letter; and, besides, he
would engage feminine curiosity to plead for him. He went, therefore,
to M. de Champignelles, proposing to employ that gentleman for the
better success of his enterprise. He informed the Marquis that he had
been entrusted with a delicate and important commission which
concerned the Vicomtesse de Beauseant, that he felt doubtful whether

she would read a letter written in an unknown handwriting, or put
confidence in a stranger. Would M. de Champignelles, on his next visit,
ask the Vicomtesse if she would consent to receive him--Gaston de
Nueil? While he asked the Marquis to keep his secret in case of a
refusal, he very ingeniously insinuated sufficient reasons for his own
admittance, to be duly passed on to the Vicomtesse. Was not M. de
Champignelles a man of honor, a loyal gentleman incapable of lending
himself to any transaction in bad taste, nay, the merest suspicion of bad
taste! Love lends a young man all the self-possession and astute craft of
an old ambassador; all the Marquis' harmless vanities were gratified,
and the haughty grandee was completely duped. He tried hard to
fathom Gaston's secret; but the latter, who would have been greatly
perplexed to tell it, turned off M. de Champignelles' adroit questioning
with a Norman's shrewdness, till the Marquis, as a gallant Frenchman,
complimented his young visitor upon his discretion.
M. de Champignelles hurried off at once to Courcelles, with that
eagerness to serve a pretty woman which belongs to his time of life. In
the Vicomtesse de Beauseant's position, such a message was likely to
arouse keen curiosity; so, although her memory supplied no reason at
all that could bring M. de Nueil to her house, she saw no objection to
his visit--after some prudent inquiries as to his family and condition. At
the same time, she began by a refusal. Then she discussed the propriety
of the matter with M. de Champignelles, directing her questions so as
to discover, if possible, whether he knew the motives for the visit, and
finally revoked her negative answer. The discussion and the discretion
shown perforce by the Marquis had piqued her curiosity.
M. de Champignelles had no mind to cut a ridiculous figure. He said,
with the air of a man who can keep another's counsel, that the
Vicomtesse must know the purpose of this visit perfectly well; while
the Vicomtesse, in all sincerity, had no notion what it could be. Mme.
de Beauseant, in perplexity, connected Gaston with people whom he
had never met, went astray after various wild conjectures, and asked
herself if she had seen this M. de Nueil before. In truth, no love- letter,
however sincere or skilfully indited, could have produced so much
effect as this riddle. Again and again Mme. de Beauseant puzzled over
it.
When Gaston heard that he might call upon the Vicomtesse, his rapture

at so soon obtaining the ardently longed-for good fortune was mingled
with singular embarrassment. How was he to contrive a suitable sequel
to this stratagem?
"Bah! I shall see /her/," he said over and over again to himself as he
dressed. "See her, and that is everything!"
He fell to hoping that once across the threshold of Courcelles he should
find an expedient for unfastening this Gordian knot of his own tying.
There are believers in the omnipotence of