About noon there came another and very peremptory message from the duchess, but her son had not yet returned. At last, about half past twelve, Gerald entered his mother's room, and was about to embrace her with affectionate gaiety, when the duchess, pushing him away, said, reproachfully:
"This is the third time I have sent for you, my son."
"I have but just returned home, and here I am! What do you wish, my dear mother?"
"You have but just returned home at this hour? What scandalous behaviour!"
"What scandalous behaviour?"
"Listen to me, my son: there are some things I will not discuss; but do not mistake my aversion to speaking of them for either tolerance or blindness."
"My dear mother," said Gerald, firmly, but deferentially, "you have always found me, and you will always find me, the most affectionate and respectful of sons; and it is hardly necessary for me to add that my name, which is also yours, shall be always and everywhere honoured and worthy of honour. But what else can you expect? I am twenty-four, and I live and amuse myself like a man of twenty-four."
"But, Gerald, you know that the life you are leading has troubled me very much for a long time, both on your account and my own. You shun society, though your name and talents entitle you to a distinguished place in its ranks, and you keep very bad company."
"Well, so far as women are concerned, I am forced to say that what you call bad company is the best, in my opinion. Come, come, mother, don't be angry! You know I'm still a soldier, so far as plain speaking is concerned. I consequently admit that I have a slight weakness for pretty girls in the lower walks of life. So far as men are concerned, I have friends of whom any man might be proud; but one of the dearest among them is a former soldier in my regiment. If you knew him, mother, you would have a better opinion of me," added Gerald, smiling, "for you judge a man by his friends, you know."
"Is there anybody in the world but you who chooses his intimate friends from among common soldiers?" exclaimed the duchess, shrugging her shoulders disdainfully.
"I think so, my dear mother, though it isn't everybody who has a chance to select his friends on the battle-field."
"But I am not talking of your relations with men, my son, I am reproaching you for compromising yourself as you do with those common girls."
"But they are so amusing."
"My son!"
"Pardon me, my dear mother," said Gerald, kissing his mother in spite of her strenuous efforts to prevent it. "I was wrong, yes, I was wrong. The truth is, though,--but, oh, dear! what shall I say? I don't want to horrify you again--but really, mother, vestal virgins are not to my taste, and you surely wouldn't like to see me carrying ruin and desolation into happy households, would you, mother?" he continued, in half tragic tones. "Besides, the truth is,--for virtue's sake, perhaps,--I like girls of the people better. The sanctity of marriage isn't outraged, you see, and then, as I said before, they're infinitely more amusing."
"You will excuse me from expressing any opinion on your choice of mistresses," retorted the duchess, angrily; "but it is certainly my duty to censure in the severest manner the strange frivolity of your conduct.
You do not realise how you are injuring yourself."
"In what way?"
"Do you suppose that if the question of a marriage was broached--"
"A marriage?" cried Gerald; "but I've no intention of marrying, not the slightest."
"You will do me the favour to listen to me, I hope."
"I am listening."
"You know Madame de Mirecourt?"
"Yes; but fortunately she is married, so you can't offer me to her. I'm glad of it, for she's the worst plotter and schemer on earth."
"Possibly she is, but she is an intimate friend of Madame de la Rochaigue, who is also one of my friends."
"How long since, may I ask? Haven't I often heard you say that that woman was the very personification of meanness?"
"That is neither here nor there," said the duchess, hastily interrupting him, "Madame de la Rochaigue has now for a ward Mlle. de Beaumesnil, the richest heiress in France."
"Who is now in Italy."
"Who is now in Paris."
"She has returned?"
"Yes, last evening; and this morning, at ten o'clock, I had a long and very satisfactory interview with Madame de Rochaigue at Madame de Mirecourt's house. I have been devoting my time and attention to a certain matter for nearly a month, but knowing your habitual levity, I would not say a word about it to you. Fortunately, everything has been kept such a close secret between Madame de la Rochaigue, Madame de Mirecourt, and myself, that we are very hopeful--"
"Hopeful of what?"
"Why, of bringing about a marriage between Mlle. de Beaumesnil and yourself."
"A marriage!" cried Gerald, bounding out of his chair.
"Yes, a marriage--with the richest heiress in France," replied Madame de Senneterre.
Then, without making any effort to conceal her uneasiness, she continued:
"If it were not for your conduct, we should have every chance in our favour, though suitors and rivals will soon be pouring in on every side.
There will be a hard struggle for the prize, and Heaven knows even the truth will be terribly damaging to you. Ah, if with your name, your talents, and your face you were a model of virtue and propriety like that excellent M. de Macreuse, for example--"
"But are you really thinking seriously of this marriage, mother?" asked Gerald, more and more astonished.
"Am I thinking of it seriously? You ask me that?"
"My dear mother, I am infinitely grateful to you for your kind intentions, but I repeat that I have no desire to marry."
"What is that you say?"
"I say, my dear mother, that I have no intention of marrying anybody."
"_Mon Dieu!_ he is mad!" cried Madame de Senneterre. "He refuses the richest heiress in France!"
"Listen, mother," said Gerald, gravely, but tenderly; "I am an honest man, and being such, I confess that I love pleasure above all things, consequently I should make a detestable husband, even for the richest heiress in France."
"A colossal fortune--an unheard-of fortune!" faltered Madame de Senneterre, stupefied by this refusal on the part of her son. "An income of over three million francs! Think of it!"
"But I love pleasure and my liberty more!"
"What you say is abominable!" cried Madame de Senneterre, almost beside herself. "Why, you are an idiot, and worse than an idiot!"
"But, my dear mother, I love independence, and gay suppers and good times, generally,--in short, the life of a bachelor. I still have six years of such joyous existence before me, and I wouldn't sacrifice them for all the money in the world; besides," added Gerald, more seriously, "I really couldn't be mean enough to make a poor girl I had married for her money as miserable as she was ridiculous. Besides, mother, you know very well that I absolutely refused to buy a substitute to go and be killed in my stead, so you can not wonder that I refuse to sell myself for any woman's millions."
"But, my son--"
"My dear mother, it is just this. Your M. de Macreuse,--and if you really have any regard for him, don't hold him up to me again as a model, or I shall break all the canes I possess over his back,--your M.