Читать книгу Orphans of the Storm - Henry MacMahon - Страница 6

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Locomotion in those pre-railroad days was by stage coach except for the rich and noble who rode in their chaises. The way of the diligence led past winding streams and bright meadows busy with haymakers; past picturesque water mills and stone chateaux, anon along tree-shaded avenues grateful in their coolness.

Hard as the leathern seats were and however wearisome the ride, the girls forgot discomfort in Henriette’s description of the sights and scenes and Louise’s just as eager listening. Then at the stops the young women would get out and stretch their weary limbs whereof they suddenly became aware as the motion ceased. They were the only passengers, with unlimited time for the naive confidences which girlhood loves.

“Are you sure that Cousin Martin will really meet us at the Paris coach house?” asked the blind sister anxiously.

“I wrote him that we were coming,” replied 6 Henriette simply. “Of course he will be there and awaiting our arrival.”

“But if he should not––”

“Then, we have his address and will go to his house. Never fear, little sister, it will be all right....”

The lumbering coach-and-six did its hundred miles a day, bad roads or good roads. But within a few miles of Paris a whiffletree broke, the ungainly vehicle stopped, and the men jumped off to hold the horses and repair the damage. Henriette and Louise soon left the hard seats for a few minutes too.

Down the other side of the narrow turn of the road where the accident had occurred, thundered the beautiful carved and gilded chaise of a famous nobleman, Marquis de Praille, accompanied by gallant outriders and backed by liveried footmen on the high rear seats. Inside the equipage were the Marquis and his commissionaire La Fleur.

The black and dusty old stage coach blocked the way.

As the aristocrat’s journey rudely stopped, with the chaise horses thrown back on their haunches, a bewigged and 7 powdered head was thrust out of the window, roaring:

“What is the meaning of this?”

Descending presently with his follower to survey the scene, the noble Marquis enraged at the blocking of his day’s pleasuring belabored the chief ostler with his cane. Smartly the blows rained down on the cowering sufferer, alternate right and left in rhythmic strokes that touched each and several part of the canaille anatomy.

This gentle exercise finished, the Marquis espied around the corner of the coach the two young passengers. Another side of the Grand Seigneur’s nature disclosed itself.

Mon Dieu, what a vision! Blue eyes, yellow ringlets framing most kissable features, dainty form, twinkling feet, flower-like elegance––a rustic Psyche far more to be desired than the ladies of the Court! The Marquis hardly looked twice at the blind girl. All his glances were for Henriette.

Self-conscious, the noble gentleman plumed and preened. Patting down his somewhat ruffled apparel, adjusting his fashionable wig and peruke, and touching 8 up his mouth with the lipstick that the dandies of that age carried, he advanced elegantly upon the young women, cane in one hand and the other toying delicately with a hand muff.

Henriette curtsied and smiled, and bade Louise do the same. They knew not the ways of Courts, but native courtesy and naive simplicity were theirs. Presently the elder girl found herself telling the distinguished personage all the details of their trip, the appointment with M. Martin, and the hope of curing Louise by a visit to the Faculty.

The gallant de Praille, all bows and smirks, was offering them the hospitality of the chaise. What a grand stranger, truly! A regal caress of Henriette’s fingers in the handclasp. Most patronizing (or was it odious familiarity?) his dainty touch of her bare arms; the jeweled hand that toyed with her ringlets; the dexterous move as if to encircle her waist; the playing––in the airiest, most fluttering manner imaginable––with the lace that draped her adorable little bosom!

Quietly Henriette replied to his overtures:

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“No, monsieur, I think it is best that we go in our own coach!”

The chastiser of canaille and charmer of ladies did not seem a whit abashed. Paying them ceremonious farewell, he withdrew and repaired to his equipage, the road for which was now clear. The girls stood a minute giggling at his mannerisms, as Henriette described his finery and imitated his peacock airs.

The girls would not have smiled had they understood. La Fleur, whom they had scarcely noticed, was the pander of the Marquis’s vices. The two were deep in plot. ’Twas whispered talk, but a chance bystander might at least have overheard the words:

“... At my fete of Bel-Air––make no mistake, La Fleur––I rely on you. One hundred louis, the reward....”

Or another scene that marked de Praille’s entry into Paris, might have interested them. Driving recklessly to make up time lost in the blockade, the nobleman’s equipage knocked down and ran over a luckless denizen of the faubourgs. Carelessly flinging out gold to the relatives of the dead woman who were sobbing or cursing him, 10 he leaned forward and inquired most solicitously of the driver:

“But––are the horses hurt?”

Indeed the nobles of that time regarded the masses as little if any superior to cattle or any other of their possessions.

In the country the common man toiled a serf without wages, for his master; while in Paris itself, the centre of gayety and fashion, the fruit of his toil was expended by the aristocrats in prodigal luxury.

The bourgeoisie or middle class bore the brunt of the taxes. A gay parasitic element, the demi-monde, ministered to the nobles’ pleasures. Below, the “submerged tenth” of the thievish and begging classes plied their questionable trades, with a large margin of the city’s population on the very verge of starvation.

It hints eloquently of the terrible conditions that there were no less than thirty thousand professional beggars in Paris at this time. Their wan, pinched faces, gaunt forms and palsied vitality were an outstanding reproach to a flower-like but decadent aristocratic culture founded on the muck of cruelty and oppression.

Nothing had the girls (or the simpleminded 11 country Doctor who sped them) known of the dangers or pitfalls of the city. Vile gallantry or viler underworld was looking for just such prey....

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