title: In quest of the ideal; a novel.
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" r .V ^ ^ V c T r 0 z % ~9 0 p ^/> 0 S ^ ^ '*> N ® \0 ^ O '^ s ' • ' ' « '% A-i>- ^' JR^-' -f. ^ -fV V^ « •*^ r ij- * N, ^ y* '^llWNSSNs ^ CL'^ ^ ^ * '*' 0 N 0 ^ ^ ^ 9 ^^* ■>^ '*■ ■'■ V- o >=> * ^ / S ”* ifr « ^ A A K C, ,* '• ^ 0 \ ^ ,  ,1.0 x0‘=-^ A FORGOTTEN DEBT. Translated from the French of Leon de Tinseau. By FLORENCE BELKNAP GILMOUR. J2mo. Cloth ^ $1.00. “ It is skilful in construction, dealing with its characters in a wholly natural manner, and abound- ing in effective touches of color. The French au- thor has conceived a web of circumstances in which his lively personages are made to play their parts that are ingeniously original in their combination and striking in their effect. The translation pos- sesses all the life of the original text, and is made with a crisp and clean accuracy that leaves little or nothing to be supplied .’' — Boston Courier. In Quest of the Ideal A NOVEL TRANSLATED FROM ‘n^E FRENCH OF LEON DE^INSEAU BY Florence Belknap Gilmour TRANSLATOR OF “A FORGOTTEN DEBT,” ” IN NORWAY,” AND ” THE DAMASCUS ROAD” PHILADELPHIA J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 1896 Copyright, 1896, BY J. B. Lippincott Company, Electrotvped and Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U.S.Ac V ^ ^^nAr^TrxA. ^^12^ £hUA iinuJ-, ^ <?c^uc^s47 A. irv7/l <d^ i}eu42\e. c<f^x^<jt^ a^ /TKoI/no /pQ^ ^ OvC'U<.cc<4/k 'h ^ffVvhji^ (U^ PtUici**^ ^ (JilLcJ^tCCa. , Cc44.f< £± ^Ci,^\^Uie7v^(27U-</U. ^ (l/h4JtJ\: d<2yi £u^4[hJLL ru>l*> J.' (JiuU^^^fTn/9 f ^tUcui^Cuy} Ti^CuC , “ cjj^ ^e<>u^a£i^a^ ^ O^dr (Uuxyie, t/mco <t%' %. &.ciu^ ^&oC , u*rt • l^'tft*^ 0\^ (iO^ f^4lo ^ €U44r Xiv^nAX ifu^^ aT jJ2u/} Tuctrn>^>t>duoa^^ 4u<>^xe<Z£p£*^ ^ caml^(A6^ X'^feieai^ V' ( % » * ' % * V ^ V • > ». ♦ ' r \ * f * I I - 4 1 I t , I « ( I t I I • In Quest of the Ideal CHAPTEE 1. My chateau — the chateau of my dreams, I mean — is not easy to discover in the solitary val- ley which shelters it. Do not imagine, however, that it is at the antipodes, beneath the pine-trees of Landes, or among the dolmens of a Breton desert. Indeed, as soon as October strips the poplars that border the Marne of their leaves, from its Mansarde-roof at night can be seen the tricoloured lights of the Eiffel Tower. In a secluded spot, rarely visited, stands the dwelling equidistant from the two railroads which lead, one to Meaux, the other to Provins. In order to find it you must know that it is nestled behind a clump of trees, for it is as large, per- haps a trifle larger than a notary’s one-story house. It has, however, a turret which does its best to refiect in the river the few battlements which have been preserved, but, alas ! the mirror 1 * 6 6 IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. is too small. The other end of the dwelling is remarkable for its ogive porch, which would be majestic did it not provoke a laugh ; it is an en- trance which leads — nowhere. It might be com- pared to the useless sleeve of an amputated arm. In happier times it was used as a gate to the Court of Honor, which formed a complete quad- rangle. Of these four sides there is but one remaining, or rather the half of one, and it is this picturesque relic which constitutes my cha- teau. How fortunate, was it not, that the troops of Henri IV. demolished the rest ! It would now be impossible to impoverish oneself in its restora- tion, even though one were rich. A few days of labor for the tiler to restore the brown tiles, two bags of cement to mend the walls, a barrel of white lead to repair the shutters and doors, not forgetting the five hundred yards of fencing, and behold, for some ten years the habitation is ren- dered as good as new. You are requested not to expect fine views and long perspectives. The ten acres of meadow which surround it is as flat as your hand, the river is so still that you must watch a long time the sleeping foliage above the emerald green of its waters in order to discover the direction of its current. But what could be brighter and more seductive than this charming morsel of an old castle, with its ivy, its vdsteria, the velvet lawns always fresh, the pigeons strut- ting about in its eaves, the business-like grovel- IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. 7 ling* of the foreign ducks, and the sleeping spaniel before the porch, from which can he perceived a background of a wooded hill ? And the chate- laine of my chateau ! — did you at this moment see her emerge from the house to gather flowers be- neath her parasol and dressed in her fresh pink peignoir, you would forget the lack of scenery. Alas ! my chateau is not mine. On a beautiful September day, two years ago, a suh-lieutenant of dragoons in undress uniform stopped his horse at the turn of a road before an open gate. His cap on the hack of his head, his cigar in one corner of his mouth, the handle of his whip tucked under his arm, he was studying the map which he had taken care to put in his pocket. “ It is not easy to discover the location,” he muttered, “ hut may the devil take me if I have not found it. It is strange ; I should have thought that a rich fellow would have had more imposing surroundings.” He refolded his map, and with a word to his horse, its hoofs were soon tramping the gravel of a carefully-kept avenue. On the threshold of a kitchen, amidst shining utensils, was seen the divinity of the place, imposing in her spotless white apron. “ Is this Murier, the residence of Monsieur Adrien La Houssaye ?” asked the young man. 8 TN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. Yes, sir. Will you come in ? My master is at table.” “ Still at table at two o’clock ? Of course, then, be has company.” “ ]^o, sir ; but he has been hunting, and when he is at a hunt ” “ Heaven knows when he will return, hey ?” A nice-looking valet with napkin in hand ap- peared on the top step. He hailed a stable-boy, who took charge of the visitor’s horse. The officer was at once ushered into the dining- room, which opened on the opposite facade. At an ebony table, upon which shone some superb pieces of silver-ware, a man of about thirty, tall, robust, muscular, and slender, was reading a sporting journal. The officer entered with extended hand. Adrien La Houssaye seemed to hesitate. “ Of course you do not recognize me,” said the visitor ; “ when you saw me last in Brittany I was preparing for Saint Cyr. It was at a public meeting, and we stared at each other like two Kilkenny cats.” “ Yes, I do remember it very well. You were with your father. And so this is what has become of the little Fernand de Louarn in four years ?” La Houssaye’s grasp seemed to swallow up the delicate, nervous hand of the dragoon. “ I hope that you have not breakfasted.” “Yes, at mess, and I have had time to ride IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. 9 through Brie * before I discovered Murier and its owner — or tenant.” “ You were right, I am lord of the manor. Then, of course, you are stationed at Meaux, near us ?” “Yes, for the last three weeks. In paying my list of visits to the various ch^telains, I have begun with you. I can now make the decla- ration which the awe of former days kept silent on my lips : I like you. Monsieur La Houssaye. Will you permit me to add that I admire you ?” “-By no means, and furthermore I do not allow you to call me monsieur. Do you wish to con- vince me that I am an old man ? It is true that I am thirty years of age !” Instead of laughing Adrien feigned a sigh, but added in a serious tone, — “ As regards our friendship, that is understood. Your father — in past days — overwhelmed me with kindnesses.” “ My dear La Houssaye,” said the lieutenant, “ let us begin by being frank. What took place between my father and you ? It is not at Stanislas College, neither at Saint Cyr nor Saumur, that one learns family history. I realised that there was a coldness, but never asked for details, and, as you had left the province ” * Brie, a small county of France near Paris. 10 IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. ‘‘ Electoral coldness, nothing else. My father had formerly supported yours in his elections, who at that time was a Monarchist. We had a thousand workmen employed in our factory in Brittany, and were influential in securing votes. But there have been many changes. My father is dead ; your father, Pierre de Louarn, has be- come a ralUL*- I, who never cared for trade, have passed the business over to a joint-stock company, in order that I may follow my tastes, which certainly have no business turn. Be that as it may, your father saw me conceding to others the influence which I have been able to preserve in Brittany. I am not a rallie, and Pierre de Louarn not having been happy in his election- eering campaign, his resentment has been the more bitter. What is he doing ? Where is he, and how is it with him ? At heart, you know, I regret this semi-quarrel. Politics, as things go, ought to unite rather than estrange people, whose bodies may be riddled with shot at the same time some day.” “ That is my opinion ; all the same, it is strange that you should remain Boyalist, while my father In short, it is he who gave me your address, advised me to come and see you, and be guided a good deal by you. So the * Rallie implies a person who has renounced his original political conviction and has gone over to the opposition. IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. H estrangement is not very deep, I imagine, — cer- tainly it is not irremediable.’’ And above all,” said Adrien, with that very gentle smile which ordinarily accompanies phys- ical force, “ it will not extend to the second gen- eration. And now what will you drink ? There is only water on the table, a mania of mine ; but the Murier possesses a good cellar, which is always at the disposal of friends.” After some overflowing glasses of old Madeira, — genuine, oh, gourmets ! — ^Fernand de Louarn was invited to visit the habitation, which was fer- tile in surprises, for this dwelling, reduced to suit a modest income, was manifestly fltted up and appointed by a millionaire. This does not mean that the pieces of furniture were numerous, or that the walls disappeared beneath pictures and tapestry. On the contrary, the general aspect was cold, and, for French tastes, a little bare. Any article that was useless was rare, but the smallest object, from the boot-jack in the dress- ing-room to the fine cut glass from which the young anchorite drank water, was a perfection in its kind. As for pictures, in the salon there were only the portraits of Adrien’s father and mother; but they were the work of Bonnat. The piano was an Erard, and the arm-chairs were the perfection of comfort. Who does not know the salons of some Croesus in which it is impos- sible to sit for any length of time without feeling 12 IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. pains in the back ? In the gun-rack there were only two guns ; each of them cost sixty guineas at Purdie’s, in London. The stable, as simple as a barn, contained only three horses, — an incom- parable Irish hunter and two ponies, the posses- sion of which all the amateurs of the Bois would compete for if to-morrow they were put up for sale. The cook prepared hut one dish when Adrien was alone, a frequent occurrence, but the mere salmis made by her were poems. The idle hours of the good woman were not as many as might be supposed, for her orders were to give bread to every beggar who knocked at the kitchen door and to carry bouillon to the sick neighbours, to which were added some silver pieces, and if the family became numerous these were changed into gold. To-day it is the mis- tress of the house herself who performs this duty. Fernand observed everything, but said little to his host. As he made the tour of the garden, which covered an acre, he discovered a statue of ‘‘ Our Lady of Lourdes,” in a sort of oratory formed of bushes of gigantic box. “And now,” said he, looking at the owner, “ is it by chance that you have become a saint, — water on the table, not the smallest photograph of a woman in the salon or bedrooms, a Holy Virgin within the grove ?” “ You canonise men too early, my officer, — ^you IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. 13 must lower your high opinion a little. I do not like wine. My hunts, my horse, my travels, and my bicycle leave me no time to collect photo- graphs of women. As to the statue, that has its history, which I will tell you. JSTow, as we are going hack to the house, you shall have a good arm-chair, and, I trust, a good cigar, which will help you to find the story less tedious.” This programme carried out. La Houssaye took up the thread of conversation. “ I am so far from being a saint that, after my father’s death, I commenced life by causing the death of a man.” ‘‘ I know it,” said Fernand. “ How I envied you at that time ! I was then in my preparatory class, and I saw in you the typical hero of romance.” There was nothing to envy in me, my friend. A thrill still goes through me when I remember what I experienced in the streets of Hantes when I came across the father or mother of this poor devil, fool enough to kill himself at the house of this miserable creature, who had forsaken him for my money. Already at that time I intended to give up business, which bored me ; moreover, since your great philosophers of to-day consider employers as malefactors, I have had quite enough of it. After this miserable adventure I hated Bretagne, and longed for a taste of Paris life ; but having drifted into an idler I was insufierably 2 14 IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. ennuyL Since a certain shot from a revolver, I have experienced when at the side of one of those women who serve to distract imbeciles slight shivers which are anything but voluptu- ous.” ‘‘You have a woebegone look,” remarked Fernand. “ I am sure you would not invite the commander’s ghost to have a glass of champagne with you.” “ Oh, my friend, do not expect to find in me the stuff that Don Juan is made of. All the same, there is something good to he found in Paris. I love music and the theatre, as well as society, for a week from time to time. I immediately under- stood what I needed. A small house two hours from the boulevard, and a pied-di-terre in the city, where I could leave a dress suit and white ties, which I do not wear much. About this time a young man, who had succeeded in running through his fortune, was trying to sell the last slice, — this small place where I am living. We soon came to terms. I accepted his price and the condition imposed by himself, of respecting his Holy Virgin, which in no wise displeased me.” “ That is a peculiar type of young man who runs through his fortune and imposes such a condition.” “Yes, is he not! And I must tell you that this prodigal son is a priest, such as we meet but seldom, too seldom. His father, a retired captain IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. 15 of the navy, left him with comfortable means. He ventured into society, and I fancy he has been bitten in the heart by some sorrow. He aban- doned everything for the seminary. Besides, he has the soul of an apostle. After he had donned the cassock he went, at his bishop’s request, to found a parish in a country of miscreants at the other end of the diocese. He built a church, a presbytery, and a school with his money. Out of his small fortune there remain some heavy debts and the statue, before which his mother used to pray for the return of the mariner. You see that it is not I who am the saint. During your manoeuvres, if you should ever pass La Morniere, between Ch^teau-Landon and Souppes, go to see the cure, Abbe Esminjeaud. He is one of the most interesting men that I know, apart from his saintliness. And if he should preach do not fail to listen to his sermon ; you will hear true eloquence.” “ My dear La Houssaye,” said the officer, ‘‘ will you allow me to add that my admiration has in- creased ? You are either the greatest sage of the nineteenth century, or you are a frightful nig- gard ; but a niggard does not give such cigars to his friends. Had I your fortune — two millions, according to report — I would have a chateau, a large stable, kennel whippers-in, a train of do- mestics, — in one word, everything which encum- bers life, even to some debts. How much hap- 16 IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. pier you are ! Who has taught you this great philosophy ?” ‘‘I have looked around me and I have seen none hut people who were poor, — that is to say, they had no pin-money. Pin-money, my friend, is the only thing which renders life worth living, for the rest does not count. I have a dozen neighbours who overpower me with their luxury. I do not feel any the worse for it, as you see. But if I should suggest travelling, — which is one of my manias, — they would bring forth twenty reasons for not budging from their homes. The true reason I know well. A loss at cards or at races ; a wing to be built to the chateau, or furni- ture to be remade ; a little mistress, who is too greedy ; a box taken at the opera. But for the chateau, the club, the stables, and mademoiselle, all these people would be as enchanted as I to have a winter in India with the tigers, or a sum- mer in ITorway on a good yacht with the salmon. And above all they would not fall into this fault, so hill of danger in our days, that of exasper- ating the poor by a needless display of luxury.” That is what my father says,” observed Fer- nand de Louarn; “you know that the social question is his hobby.” “ Oh, I agree with your father on many points. How is he getting on with his social question ? Hever going to Brittany, I have not seen him for a century.” IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. 17 “ Well,” said the officer, picking up his cap and whip, ‘‘ I hope that you will see him ere long. He is coming to inspect my quarters. At the bar- racks politics are ignored, and I should feel great pleasure in seeing your hand once again clasping my father’s.” “ That will not be a less pleasure for me. Moreover, we are going ahead so quickly that the perspective of ideas is becoming modified. To speak frankly, mine get entangled, and, if your father with his Christian Socialism could disentangle them, — but, as they say at Leipsic, ‘ Gaudiamus igitur dum juvenes sumus F What day will you breakfast with me? Afterwards we will harness the ponies and pay court to my neighbour, — ‘ la belle Madame Montgodfroy.’ ” “ The banker’s wife ?” ‘‘And the chatelaine of Saint Urbain. She will turn your head, for, as you are a very young man, I suppose you are not afraid of Junos of forty years.” “Oh, I? Juno, Diana, Yenus, all suit me provided the goddess be pretty.” “ All right. I see you would still be on Mount Ida studying the trial of the famous combat if you had been in the place of Paris.” h 2 * 18 IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. CHAPTER IL Eight days later, as agreed, the two young men were again conversing together in the salon of Murier, after a breakfast less simple than Adrien La Houssaye usually took. Their first reserve soon disappeared. The lieutenant’s admiration for his friend had in no wise diminished since he had known more of him, and nothing is easier than to know a man who is always quite ready to let his life be seen, in which nothing is hidden, and where there is neither pose, ambition, nor any serious fault. ‘‘Well,” said the host, glancing at the clock, “ are we ready ?” “We are ready,” said young Louarn, smiling. “We have drunk my coffee, we have smoked my cigar, and we have finished sipping my Chartreuse verte. At first your hospitality was a little de- pressing, but you see that I have become used to it. Swear that you do not despise a guest who possesses all the weaknesses of which you are ignorant.” “You are right, and I am wrong. It is the weaknesses of a nation which constitute the ground for taxation. If, last year, all our coun- IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. 19 trymen had been compelled to drink clear water and had tabooed tobacco, it would have been necessary to send the dragoons to their homes, which would have deprived Madame Montgod- froy of a charming visit.” When they were on their way the two friends naturally continued to talk of the chatelaine of Saint Urbain. “ I have noticed,” said Fernand, ‘‘ that she is not very popular with my comrades ; they seldom go there.” “ It is she who seldom invites them. She says that officers are too conspicuous. She is a clever woman in so far as compromising herself is concerned.” “ Indeed, at mess when her name is mentioned winks are exchanged, but there is no tangible story. Now, I assure you that the dragoons’ mess-room is the ground par excellence for tan- gible stories. ‘ La belle Martha,’ as we call her, is considered as being infinitely spirituelle and as the best-shaped woman in Paris.” “Yes,” said Adrien, “ as much as one can see, which, on certain occasions, is a great deal, gives one a fine idea of her form. As for her mind, I believe it is less substantial than her body. But she possesses one quality unknown to the Parisians, a quality which never fails to procure, even to a simpleton, the reputation of being a witty woman. She listens to people. 20 IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. For us, the most spirituelle woman is not the best talker, — it is the one who will let us do the talking. That is why I like foreigners, who evince this politeness, as well as many others.” “ But look here ; ‘ la belle Martha’ must have some defect, after all ?” “ Do you suppose that I pass my time in ob- serving her? But, indeed, every one sees that she is consumed with the modern evil, — ^the need of novelty, the pursuit of ideas.” ‘‘ Do you see any great harm in it ?” ‘‘ I see at least a danger. This hungering for the unknown in women makes me anxious, be- cause they nearly always concrete the idea in the man. For them to embrace an idea too often means to embrace a man.” “ That is good,” said Adrien. ‘‘ What new idea could I propose for the ‘belle Martha’ to em- brace ?” “ Forsooth ! you would be compelled to hunt a little. My neighbour is an aristocrat, an Im- perialist by birth, being the daughter of Count de Eenuzart, an ex-chamberlain. After four or five years of starvation due to the misfortunes of the dynasty, this young woman, mismated, turned Bepublican, after Gambetta had dined several times at her house, so it was said. Since this illustrious friendship she has retained the habit, rather fatiguing for others, of inveighing against everything. She railed successively, according IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. 21 to history, against the ‘ Seize Mai,’ against the avariciousness of a president, against Panama, against the J ews, and each one of these harangues coincided with the advent of a new man on the scene. Five years ago, when I came to Murier, she was in with Boulangism.” “ Oh, ho ! the general had — dined ?” “ iTot he, but one of his partisans, a shrewd fellow who understood how to fish for the dis- dained sirens in the watery furrows made by the vessel. When the vessel was lost on the rocks she forgot politics for the last novelty in art, Wag- nerism, impressionism, decadentism, pessimism, symbolism, — all the isms known have defiled before my eyes, personified either by a composer, a painter, a poet, or — a simple humbug. is my little friend Louise, the daughter of the house. She has occasionally a manner of looking at her mother that makes one unhappy. By the bye, one rarely sees her ; it is such a nuisance to talk on the topics of the day before a young girl.” They entered an avenue bordered by lamp- posts, ending at some distance in an irreproach- able edifice, but in its correct elegance quite commonplace, and resembling too much the town-halls of large cities. Alleys white as roads were still wet from the hose. A park laid out in the form of a square was as carefully tended as any public park. It was surprising to find the benches empty and not the usual gathering of children, nurses, and soldiers. The iron plates, to which the water-pipes were fixed for the purpose of irrigation, took the place of mole-hills on the beautiful lawns. The idea of a mole-hill at Saint Urbain ! As well introduce a navvy at a garden-party. Broad asphalt side- walks extended around the house ; the windows, which were of a single pane of glass, displayed the heavy silk hangings within. It was easy to see that when Honore Montgod- froy built this residence a little before the war he was inspired by the quite new splendours of Parc Monceau and the palaces which surround it. Such were the great seigneurs of yore, who, on their estates, copied a portion of the palace and IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. 23 park of Versailles. It is easier, by the way, to copy Monsieur Haussmann than Louis XIV., and risks no danger of disgrace to the Fouquets of to-day. May God protect their descendants against some rancours less royal ! However, the architect of Saint Urhain, a clever man if not a genius, had the happy modesty of copying for Montgodfroy the celebrated hall of a neighbour- ing chateau recently inaugurated by an Imperial visit. The enormous room was deserted when the two friends entered. The light coming from the ceiling showed an amusing variety and col- lection of things, for each one of the corners of this cathedral of worldly worship, where the chimney-piece replaced the choir, was like a chapel destined for some special rite. One might choose between the musical corner, with its con- cert grand piano, or the reading corner, with its shelves of books, the table each morning loaded with papers and periodicals. There was also the corner for games, the Dutch billiard-table with its green cloth, even to roulette. Finally, there was the cosy corner for conversation, with its downy couches and arm-chairs, and the em- broidery in its frame, wherein for an entire season the figures of an idyllic scene were fading, destined, no doubt, like many idyls commenced in the same place, to remain only in outline. The walls were covered with pictures, — all mod- ern, all costly. Some, to tell the truth, made one 24 IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. feel the vertigo of madness ; but from this col- lection could be studied the decadence of French painting within the last fifty years. As Fernand de Louarn repressed an exclamation of horror at the sight of certain works of art in this museum, his companion said to him in a low voice : “ Did I not forewarn you ? Bring your phi- losophy to bear, for you will see worse than that of other kinds. But is it not amusing to discover that the excommunicants of times gone by, the Courbets, the Manets, which form the starting- point of this gallery, now give the impression of being archaic and regular when compared to their descendants ? Between ourselves the stream runs quickly, and the devil of it is that it is not only the daubs which are carried away by the tide.’’ ‘‘ What !” said the dragoon, “ you are a pessi- mist? In that I admire you less.” “ Oh, it is not my natural state ; but I cannot enter the houses of these great lords of wealth without trembling. In such places one feels better than elsewhere the pressure of high waters, which sweep away everything, even great trunks of trees, towards the abyss.” From a sort of tribune which ran around the hall and opened on the apartments of the first floor above, a voice, a little dry in its precision, was heard, “ Do not be impatient ; I am coming down.” IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. 25 Two minutes later Martha Montgodfroy held out her hand without much effusion to her “ neighbour,” as she deigned to call him. Fer- nand de Louarn, duly presented, bowed, and all three seated themselves near the chimney-place on solemn-looking arm-chairs of the fourteenth century, consecrated to the visits of ceremony. The usual conversation in such cases commenced. Was the new-comer satisfied with his garrison? Was he comfortably lodged ? Did he not appre- ciate his proximity to Paris ? Was he fond of hunting ? The same questions might have been asked of any of the sub-lieutenants at Meaux had they been in Fernand de Louarn’s place. He submitted, however, to the commonplace interview, and with his tranquil Breton eyes examined Madame Montgodfroy without expe- riencing the agitation which she was accustomed to see in very young men in her presence. Owing to the excess of femininity which ema- nated from her personality, and was perceptible in every attitude and in her smallest gesture, Martha Montgodfroy was destined to agitate many. Hot that there was anything suggestive in her way of dressing or in her behaviour. But those lines which so eloquently appeal to the imagination had been preserved in her, and had not fallen into excess, which threatens women in their fortieth year. And as she seated herself in a fauteuil d la 26 IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. Maintenon^ which perfectly suited her tall form, no one could have said that she had not re- mained a “ grande dame,” every inch a Renu- zart in spite of all the Montgodfroys in the world. From the tips of her English boots to the high collar of her plain tailor gown, there was not one point which displeased the eye, neither in the discreet folds of her dress nor in the pro- portions of her figure, the outlines of which could be plainly seen beneath the skirt, nor even in her casual pose. While looking at her it was impossible to forget that she was said to be the best-shaped woman in Paris, and a connoisseur would have given the same praise to her dress. In revenge, even the flatterers never pre- tended that the chatelaine of Saint Urbain was pretty. One could think that nature, satisfied with her work, did not intend that the face should divert the looks from the admiration due the rest of the body. But the head was small, and those who have observed much know that a woman is never ugly when her head is below average size. The grey eyes, overshadowed by broad eyebrows which threw a warm tint in them, never ceased to ask the eternal question which the feminine sphinx addresses to mascu- line sensuality ; but they posed it coldly, being sure, one felt it, of the reply which they will make. The mouth, however, was large, mordant, with- thin lips, which furnished a supreme argu- IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. 27 ment to men who had been repulsed, that Martha Montgodfroy was void of passion. What did they know about it ? But let us believe these would-be “ feminists” that full lips are the infal- lible symptom and necessary accompaniment of a voluptuous nature. After a few moments the chatelaine seemed anx- ious to know why the young dragoon had chosen to he presented by Adrien La Houssaye. “ It is not that you could have selected a more worthy introducer,” she added, quickly, observing a smile on her neighbour’s face. “ But the hermit of Murier does not ordinarily inconvenience him- self for trifles.” “Oh, madame,” replied Adrien, “it is not a trifle to gratify the desire of a friend, and Fer- nand de Louarn is both my friend and com- patriot.” At the name of Louarn, which at first she had heard only indistinctly, “la belle Martha” ap- peared suddenly to be roused. “ What !” she cried, “ can you he the son of the celebrated Christian Socialist ?” “ I have never heard my father giving him- self that title,” said the young man, flushing. “ Christian he is most certainly, which is not surprising since he is a Breton, hut the word Socialist is complicated, and the term not com- plimentary.” It was not Madame Montgodfroy’s wish to 28 IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. broach complicated questions in a first interview, so she quickly changed the. conversation. “ Your father will be charmed to hear that his son is chaperoned by the most — reasonable of mentors. Murier is quiet, restful, and calming, is it not V’ There was a vein of sarcasm in the employment of these adjectives, and Adrien re- plied, — “ 1^0 doubt that is why Lieutenant de Louarn was longing to become acquainted with Saint Urbain, which has not the reputation of being either ‘ quiet, restful, or calming.’ ” ‘‘ If you please, monsieur,” said the chatelaine, turning towards the officer, “ we will admit pro- visionally that we are wildly giddy here. For the moment Saint Urbain does seem mortally ennuyeux, so you are forced to take your friend’s word for it ; but we will try to show it you be- neath a less gloomy light. Come and dine on Sunday; you will meet my uncle, the Marquis de Yillegarde, and some of these Parisians such as the English term from Saturday-to-Mon- dayists, among them my husband. Of course the invitation is extended to Monsieur La Hous- saye.” With a ceremonious bow Adrien accepted. Fernand rubbing his ear seemed to refiect. “ Indeed, I dare not answer you to-day, ma- dame. Every Sunday the officers migrate in a body to Paris. Each one wishes to find a sub- IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. 29 stitute, and being a new-comer I am usually a substitute. To-morrow I shall have the honour of letting you know what fate has reserved for me.’’ The visit, rather short, was finished. As the young men were about retiring, Madame Mont- godfroy said to them, — “ If you are not in a hurry make the tour of the park in your cart and leave by the forest gate. By this means Monsieur de Louarn can learn the two roads which lead to Murier.” As the dog-cart was rolling through one of the side avenues, Fernand said to his com- panion, — “You seem to be quite at loggerheads with the lady of the manor. What has she done to you? What have you done to her? or rather what have you not done ?” “ Well,” answered Adrien, “ at bottom we are very good friends. But on the surface we do not possess either the same tastes or the same ideas, and, as I have a combative disposition, I differ in opinion. !N’ow, if you wish to court her, here’s a powerful means of seduction indeed, a perfect contrast to my own aggressiveness.” “ That is possible, but I do not count upon courting her ; I do not know why, but the lady does not please me. Bid you not hear how she termed my father ? I could not refuse her dinner to her face, but rest assured that on Sunday the colonel will need my services.” 3 * 30 IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. As the dragoon said these words the horses were crossing a bridge over an artificial stream which fiowed between banks of rock. At the end of the bridge these rocks were raised high above the road and formed a rather deep cave, which served as a shelter against the sun and the rain. It could only be seen from the side of the stream when reaching it, and in such a way that the young men suddenly found themselves in presence of an imposing group gathered therein. On a seat formed of reeds a young girl, blonde, rosy, and of medium height, bearing in her blue eyes the melancholy look of Mignon, was sur- rounded by half a dozen village children, who seemed to be drinking in her words and hang- ing on every gesture. Adrien stopped his horses, and, hat in hand, without leaving the cart, he said, — ‘‘ How do you do. Mademoiselle Louise? "We have just left your mother, to whom I presented my friend de Louarn, and with your permission I now present him to you.” "Without budging from the seat, Louise re- turned the ofiicer’s bow by a gracious inclina- tion of the head, in which could be divined some intentional reserve but no embarrassment. At the same time by a gesture, which was immedi- ately obeyed, she ordered her class to stand in presence of the two strangers. All this scarcely attested to the truth that Louise was only a little IN QUEST OF THE IDEAL. 31 girl and contrasted with the semi-paternal tone adopted by Adrien in questioning her. 