BOOK X.
CHAPTER I.
Graham Vane had heard nothing for months from M. Renard, when one morning
he received the letter I translate:
"MONSIEUR,--I am happy to inform you that I have at last obtained one
piece of information which may lead to a more important discovery. When
we parted after our fruitless research in Vienna, we had both concurred
in the persuasion that, for some reason known only to the two ladies
themselves, Madame Marigny and Madame Duval had exchanged names--that it
was Madame Marigny who had deceased in the name of Madame Duval, and
Madame Duval who had survived in that of Marigny.
"It was clear to me that the _beau Monsieur_ who had visited the false
Duval must have been cognisant of this exchange of name, and that, if his
name and whereabouts could be ascertained, he, in all probability, would
know what had become of the lady who is the object of our research; and
after the lapse of so many years he would probably have very slight
motive to preserve the concealment of facts which might, no doubt, have
been convenient at the time. The lover of the _soi-disant_ Mademoiselle
Duval was by such accounts as we could gain a man of some rank--very
possibly a married man; and the liaison, in short, was one of those
which, while they last, necessitate precautions and secrecy.
"Therefore, dismissing all attempts at further trace of the missing lady,
I resolved to return to Vienna as soon as the business that recalled me
to Paris was concluded, and devote myself exclusively to the search after
the amorous and mysterious Monsieur.
"I did not state this determination to you, because, possibly, I might be
in error--or, if not in error, at least too sanguine in my expectations--
and it is best to avoid disappointing an honourable client.
"One thing was clear, that, at the time of the _soi-disant_ Duval's
decease, the _beau Monsieur_ was at Vienna.
"It appeared also tolerably clear that when the lady friend of the
deceased quitted Munich so privately, it was to Vienna she repaired, and
from Vienna comes the letter demanding the certificates of Madame Duval's
death. Pardon me, if I remind you of all these circumstances no doubt
fresh in your recollection. I repeat them in order to justify the
conclusions to which they led me.
"I could not, however, get permission to absent myself from Paris for the
time I might require till the end of last April. I had meanwhile sought
all private means of ascertaining what Frenchmen of rank and station were
in that capital in the autumn of 1849. Among the list of the very few
such Messieurs I fixed upon one as the most likely to be the mysterious
Achille--Achille was, indeed, his _nom de bapteme_.
"A man of intrigue--a _bonnes fortunes_--of lavish expenditure withal;
very tenacious of his dignity, and avoiding any petty scandals by which
it might be lowered; just the man who, in some passing affair of
gallantry with a lady of doubtful repute, would never have signed his
titular designation to a letter, and would have kept himself as much
incognito as he could. But this man was dead--had been dead some years.
He had not died at Vienna--never visited that capital for some years
before his death. He was then, and had long been, the _ami de la maison_
of one of those grandes dames of whose intimacy _grands seigneurs_ are
not ashamed. They parade there the _bonnes fortunes_ they conceal
elsewhere. Monsieur and the grande dame were at Baden when the former
died. Now, Monsieur, a Don Juan of that stamp is pretty sure always to
have a confidential Leporello. If I could find Leporello alive I might
learn the secrets not to be extracted from a Don Juan defunct. I
ascertained, in truth, both at Vienna, to which I first repaired in order
to verify the renseignements I had obtained at Paris, and at Baden, to
which I then bent my way, that this brilliant noble had a favourite valet
who had lived with him from his youth--an Italian, who had contrived in
the course of his service to lay by savings enough to set up a hotel
somewhere in Italy, supposed to be Pisa. To Pisa I repaired, but the man
had left some years; his hotel had not prospered--he had left in debt.
No one could say what had become of him. At last, after a long and
tedious research, I found him installed as manager of a small hotel at
Genoa--a pleasant fellow enough; and after friendly intercourse with him
(of course I lodged at his hotel), I easily led him to talk of his
earlier life and adventures, and especially of his former master, of
whose splendid career in the army of '_La Belle Deesse_' he was not a
little proud. It was not very easy to get him to the particular subject
in question. In fact, the affair with the poor false Duval had been so
brief and undistinguished an episode in his master's life, that it was
not without a strain of memory that he reached it.
"By little and little, however, in the course of two or three evenings,
and by the aid of many flasks of Orviette or bottles of Lacrima (wines,
Monsieur, that I do not commend to any one who desires to keep his
stomach sound and his secrets safe), I gathered these particulars.
"Our Don Juan, since the loss of a wife in the first year of marriage,
had rarely visited Paris where he had a domicile--his ancestral hotel
there he had sold.
"But happening to visit that capital of Europe a few months before we
come to our dates at Aix-la-Chapelle, he made acquaintance with Madame
Marigny, a natural daughter of high-placed parents, by whom, of course,
she had never been acknowledged, but who had contrived that she should
receive a good education at a convent; and on leaving it also contrived
that an old soldier of fortune--which means an officer without fortune--
who had served in Algiers with some distinction, should offer her his
hand, and add the modest dot they assigned her to his yet more modest
income. They contrived also that she should understand the offer must be
accepted. Thus Mademoiselle 'Quelque Chose' became Madame Marigny, and
she, on her part, contrived that a year or so later she should be left a
widow. After a marriage, of course the parents washed their hands of
her--they had done their duty. At the time Don Juan made this lady's
acquaintance nothing could be said against her character; but the
milliners and butchers had begun to imply that they would rather have
her money than trust to her character. Don Juan fell in love with her,
satisfied the immediate claims of milliner and butcher, and when they
quitted Paris it was agreed that they should meet later at Aix-la-
Chapelle. But when he resorted to that sultry and, to my mind,
unalluring spa, he was surprised by a line from her saying that she had
changed her name of Marigny for that of Duval.
"'I recollect,' said Leporello, 'that two days afterwards my master said
to me, 'Caution and secrecy. Don't mention my name at the house to which
I may send you with any note for Madame Duval. I don't announce my name
when I call. _La petite_ Marigny has exchanged her name for that of
Louise Duval; and I find that there is a Louise Duval here, her friend,
who is niece to a relation of my own, and a terrible relation to quarrel
with--a dead shot and unrivalled swordsman--Victor de Mauleon. My
master was brave enough, but he enjoyed life, and he did not think _la
petite_ Marigny worth being killed for.'
"Leporello remembered very little of what followed. All he did remember
is that Don Juan, when at Vienna, said to him one morning, looking less
gay than usual, 'It is finished with _ca petite_ Marigny_-she is no
more.' Then he ordered his bath, wrote a note, and said with tears in
his eyes, 'Take this to Mademoiselle Celeste; not to be compared to _la
petite_ Marigny; but _la petite_ Celeste is still alive.' Ah, Monsieur!
if only any man in France could be as proud of his ruler as that Italian
was of my countrymen! Alas! we Frenchmen are all made to command--or at
least we think ourselves so--and we are insulted by one who says to us,
'Serve and obey.' Nowadays, in France, we find all Don Juans and no
Leporellos.
"After strenuous exertions upon my part to recall to Leporello's mind the
important question whether he had ever seen the true Duval, passing under
the name of Marigny--whether she had not presented herself to his master
at Vienna or elsewhere--he rubbed his forehead, and drew from it these
reminiscences.
"'On the day that his Excellency,'--Leporello generally so styled his
master--'Excellency,' as you are aware, is the title an Italian would
give to Satan if taking his wages,'told me that _la petite_ Marigny was
no more, he had received previously a lady veiled and mantled, whom I did
not recognise as any one I had seen before, but I noticed her way of
carrying herself--haughtily--her head thrown back; and I thought to
myself, that lady is one of his grandes dames. She did call again two or
three times, never announcing her name; then she did not reappear. She
might be Madame Duval--I can't say.'
"'But did you never hear his Excellency speak of the real Duval after
that time?'
"'No--_non mi ricordo_--I don't remember.'
"'Nor of some living Madame Marigny, though the real one was dead?'
"'Stop, I do recollect; not that he ever named such a person to me, but
that I have posted letters for him to a Madame Marigny--oh, yes! even
years after the said _petite_ Marigny was dead; and once I did venture to
say, 'Pardon me, Eccellenza, but may I ask if that poor lady is really
dead, since I have to prepay this letter to her?'"
"'Oh,' said he, 'Madame Marigny! Of course the one you know is dead,
but there are others of the same name; this lady is of my family.
Indeed, her house, though noble in itself, recognises the representative
of mine as its head, and I am too _bon prince_ not to acknowledge and
serve any one who branches out of my own tree.'"
"A day after this last conversation on the subject, Leporello said to me:
'My friend, you certainly have some interest in ascertaining what became
of the lady who took the name of Marigny (I state this frankly, Monsieur,
to show how difficult even for one so prudent as I am to beat about a
bush long but what you let people know the sort of bird you are in search
of).
"'Well,' said I, 'she does interest me. I knew something of that Victor
de Mauleon, whom his Excellency did not wish to quarrel with; and it
would be a kindly act to her relation if one could learn what became of
Louise Duval.'
"'I can put you on the way of learning all that his Excellency was likely
to have known of her through correspondence. I have often heard him
quote, with praise, a saying so clever that it might have been Italian,
"Never write, never burn;" that is, never commit yourself by a letter--
keep all letters that could put others in your power. All the letters he
received were carefully kept and labelled. I sent them to his son in
four large trunks. His son, no doubt, has them still.'
"Now, however, I have exhausted my budget. I arrived at Paris last
night. I strongly advise you to come hither at once, if you still desire
to prosecute your search.
"You, Monsieur, can do what I could not venture to do; you can ask the
son of Don Juan if, amid the correspondence of his father, which he may
have preserved, there be any signed Marigny or Duval--any, in short,
which can throw light on this very obscure complication of circumstances.
A grand seigneur would naturally be more complaisant to a man of your
station than he would be to an agent of police. Don Juan's son,
inheriting his father's title, is Monsieur le Marquis de Rochebriant; and
permit me to add, that at this moment, as the journals doubtless inform
you, all Paris resounds with the rumour of the coming war; and Monsieur
de Rochebriant--who is, as I have ascertained, now in Paris--it may be
difficult to find anywhere on earth a month or two hence.--I have the
honour, with profound consideration, &c., &c., RENARD."
The day after the receipt of this letter Graham Vane was in Paris.
