The Mesmerist's Victim

“Have you looked on her face and not noticed the resemblance to – come here, Nicole!”

Nicole came quickly for she was listening at the door. The duke took her by both hands and held her between his knees; but she was not daunted by the great lord’s impertinent gaze and was not put out for an instant.

“By Jove, you are right, there is a resemblance,” he said.

“You know to whom, and how impossible it is to risk the rise of my house on some ugly trick of chance. Is it the thing that this little down-at-the-heel hussy Nicole should look like the highest head in France?”

“Pish!” exclaimed Nicole, tartly, as she disengaged herself to reply more easily to her master, “is it a fact that the hussy does so closely resemble the illustrious lady? Has she the low shoulder, quick eye, round leg and dimpled arm of the hussy? In any case, my lord, if you run me down, it is not because you can have any hope to catch me!” She finished in anger which made her red and consequently splendid in beauty.

The duke caught her again and said as he gave her a look full of caresses and promises:

“Baron, to my idea, Nicole has not her like at court. As for the touch of likeness, we will manage about that. Pretty Nicole has admirable light hair and nose and eyebrows quite imperial – but in a quarter of an hour before a toilet glass these blemishes will disappear, as the baron reckons them such. Nicole, my dear, do you want to go to the palace?”

“Oh, don’t I though!” cried the girl with all her greedy soul in the words.

“You shall go, my pet: and make a fortune there, without doing any harm to the advancement of others. Trot away, little one; the rest does not concern you. A word with you, my lord.”

“I venture to urge you to send some one to wait upon your daughter,” said the duke when alone with his friend, “because she must make a brave show and the King is not afraid of beauty-guards with knowing phizzes. Besides, I know how the wind blows.”

“Let Nicole go to the Trianon, since you think it will please the King,” replied Taverney with his pimp’s smile.

“Write to your daughter that a maid named Nicole is coming. Another than Nicole would not fill the place so well. On my honor, I believe so.”

The baron wrote a note which he handed to Richelieu.

“I will give the instructions to Nicole, who is intelligent.”

The baron smiled.

“So you will trust her with me?”

“Do what you can.”

“You are to come with me, miss, and quick,” said the duke.

Without waiting for the baron’s consent, Nicole got her clothes together in five minutes and as light as if she flew, she darted upon the box beside the ducal driver. The tempter took leave of his friend, who reiterated his thanks for the service rendered Philip of Redcastle. Neither said a word about Andrea; there was no need between them.

CHAPTER XIV

ONE MAN’S MEAT IS ANOTHER’S POISON

AT ten in the morning, Andrea was writing to her father to inform him of the happy news which Richelieu had already communicated to him.

Her room, in the corridor of the chapel, was not grand for a rival princess’s lady of attendance but it was a delightful abode for one who liked repose and solitude.

Andrea had obtained permission to breakfast in her rooms whenever she liked; this was a precious boon as it gave her the mornings to herself. She could read or go out for a saunter in the park, and come home without being annoyed by lord or lackey.

Suddenly a tapping at the door, discreetly given, aroused her attention. She raised her head as the door opened, and uttered a slight cry of astonishment as the radiant face of Nicole appeared from the little antechamber.

“Good morning, mistress! yes, it is I,” said the girl, with a merry courtsey which was not free from apprehension, knowing her lady’s character.

“You – what wind brings you?” replied Andrea, laying down her pen to talk.

“I was forgotten, but I have come. The baron said I was to do so,” said Nicole, bending the black eyebrows which Richelieu’s hair-dye had made; “you would not turn me back, when I only wanted to please my mistress. This is what one gets for loving her betters!” sighed the girl, with an attempt to squeeze a tear out of her fine eyes.

The reproach had enough feeling in it to touch Andrea.

“My child, I am waited on here, and I cannot think of charging the Dauphiness with an additional mouth.”

“Not when it is not so large a one?” questioned the maid, pouting the rosebud mouth in argument, with a winsome smile.

“No matter, your presence here is impossible on account of your likeness – ”

“Why, have you not looked on my face? it has been altered by a fine old nobleman who came to see master and tell him of Master Philip’s getting a company of soldiers from the King. As he saw master was sorrowing about you being alone, he heard the reason and said that nothing was easier than to change light to dark. He took me to his house where his valet turned me out as you behold me.”

“You must love me,” said Andrea smiling, “to come and be a prisoner shut up with me in this palace.”

“The rooms are not lively,” said Mdlle. Legay, after a swift glance round them, “but you will not be always mewed up here.”

“I may not, but you will not go out for the promenade with the princess, the parties, cardplay, and social gatherings; your place would be here to die of weariness.”

“Oh, there must be a peep at something through the windows. If one can see out, others can see me. That is good enough for Nicole – do not fret about me.”

“Nicole, I cannot do it without express order.”

The maid drew a letter from the baron from her tucker which settled the dispute. It was thus conceived:

“MY DEAR ANDREA: I know, and it has been remarked, that you do not hold the station at the Trianon which your birth entitles you to do: you lack a maid and a pair of lackeys as I do twenty thousand a year; but in the same way as I content myself with a thousand, you must shift with one maid – so take Nicole who will do you all the service requisite. She is active, intelligent and devoted; she will quickly pick up the tone and manners of the palace; take care not to stimulate but enchain her good-will to yourself. Keep her and do not fear that you are depriving me. A good friend gives me the advice that his Majesty, who has the kindness to think of us and to remark you on sight, will not let you want for the proper outfit for your appearance at court. Bear this in mind as of the highest importance. YOUR AFFECTIONATE FATHER.”

This threw the reader into painful perplexity. Poverty was pursuing her into her new prosperity, and making that a blemish which she considered merely an annoyance. She was on the point of angrily breaking her pen, and tearing the commenced letter in order to reproach her father with such an outburst of disinterested philosophical denial as Philip would have freely signed. But she seemed to see her father’s ironical smile when he should read this masterpiece and away fled her intention. So she answered with the following record of what was passing:

“FATHER: Nicole has just arrived and I receive her as you desire it; but what you write on the subject, drives me to despair. Am I less ridiculous with this little rustic girl as waiting-woman than alone among these rich ladies waited on hand and foot? Nicole will be miserable at my humiliation for servants smile or frown as their masters are looked upon. She will dislike me. As for the notice of his Majesty, allow me to tell you, father, that the King has too much intelligence to try to make a great lady of one so unfitted, and too much good nature to notice or comment on my poverty – far from it to want to change it into ease which your title and services would legitimatise in everybody’s eyes.”

It must be confessed that this candid innocence and noble pride mated the astuteness and corruption of her tempters.

Andrea spoke no more against Nicole but kept her. She confined herself to her corner so as to remind one of the Persian’s roseleaf floated on the goblet of rosewater brimfull, to prove that a superfluous joy may be added to perfect content.

When Nicole was left to herself she made a survey of the neighborhood. This did not promise much fun. But at an upper window over the stables she caught a glimpse of a man’s face which made her have recourse to a scheme to draw it out. She hid behind the curtains of the window left wide open.

She had to wait some time, but at length appeared a young man’s head; timid hands rested on the window-sill, and a face rose with caution.

Nicole nearly fell back flat on her two shoulders for it was Gilbert, her former companion on the manor of Taverney.

Unfortunately he had seen her, and he disappeared. He would rather have seen old Nick himself.

“What use now is my foolish discovery of which I was so proud? In Paris my knowledge that Nicole had a sweetheart whom she let into her master’s house gave me a hold on her. But out here, she has hold on me.”

Serving as lash to his hate, all his self-conceit boiled his blood with extreme vehemence. He felt sure that war was declared between him and the maid; but as he was a prudent youth who could be politic, he wanted to open hostilities in his own way and at his own time.