And the slope of the
shoulders!
Warner - World's Best Literature - v12 - Gre to Hen
Burr" cared for you a straw more than for the flatboat-
men who sailed his ark for him. I do not excuse Nolan; I only
explain to the reader why he damned his country, and wished
he might never hear her name again.
He never did hear her name but once again. From that
moment, September 23d, 1807, till the day he died, May 11th,
1863, he never heard her name again. For that half-century and
more he was a man without a country.
Old Morgan, as I said, was terribly shocked. If Nolan had
compared George Washington to Benedict Arnold, or had cried
"God save King George! " Morgan would not have felt worse.
He called the court into his private room, and returned in fifteen
minutes with a face like a sheet, to say:
-
"Prisoner, hear the sentence of the court! The court decides,
subject to the approval of the President, that you never hear the
name of the United States again. "
Nolan laughed. But nobody else laughed. Old Morgan was
too solemn, and the whole room was hushed dead as night for a
minute. Even Nolan lost his swagger in a moment. Then Mor-
gan added:-
"Mr. Marshal, take the prisoner to Orleans in an armed boat,
and deliver him to the naval commander there. "
The marshal gave his orders, and the prisoner was taken out
of court.
"Mr. Marshal," continued old Morgan, «< see that no one men-
tions the United States to the prisoner. Mr. Marshal, make my
respects to Lieutenant Mitchell at Orleans, and request him to
order that no one shall mention the United States to the pris-
oner while he is on board ship. You will receive your written
orders from the officer on duty here this evening. The court is
adjourned without day. "
Since writing this, and while considering whether or no I
would print it as a warning to the young Nolans and Vallan-
dighams and Tatnalls of to-day of what it is to throw away a
## p. 6826 (#206) ###########################################
6826
EDWARD EVERETT HALE
country, I have received from Danforth, who is on board the
Levant, a letter which gives an account of Nolan's last hours. It
removes all my doubts about telling this story.
To understand the first words of the letter, the non-profes-
sional reader should remember that after 1817 the position of
every officer who had Nolan in charge was one of the greatest
delicacy. The government had failed to renew the order of 1807
regarding him. What was a man to do? Should he let him go?
what then if he were called to account by the Department for
violating the order of 1807? Should he keep him? what then if
Nolan should be liberated some day, and should bring an action
for false imprisonment or kidnapping against every man who
had had him in charge? I urged and pressed this upon South-
ard, and I have reason to think that other officers did the same
thing. But the Secretary always said, as they so often do at
Washington, that there were no special orders to give, and that
we must act on our own judgment. That means, “If you suc-
ceed, you will be sustained; if you fail, you will be disavowed. "
Well, as Danforth says, all that is over now; though I do not
know but I expose myself to a criminal prosecution on the evi-
dence of the very revelation I am making.
Here is the letter:-
LEVANT, 2°2′ S. @ 131° W.
Dear Fred:
I TRY to find heart and life to tell you that it is all over with
dear old Nolan. I have been with him on this voyage more than
I ever was; and I can understand wholly now the way in which
you used to speak of the dear old fellow. I could see that he
was not strong, but I had no idea the end was so near. The
doctor has been watching him very carefully, and yesterday morn-
ing came to me and told me that Nolan was not so well, and
had not left his state-room,-a thing I never remember before.
He had let the doctor come and see him as he lay there,— the
first time the doctor had been in the state-room,- and he said he
should like to see me. Oh dear! do you remember the mysteries
we boys used to invent about his room in the old Intrepid"
days? Well, I went in; and there to be sure the poor fellow lay
in his berth, smiling pleasantly as he gave me his hand, but
looking very frail. I could not help a glance round, which showed
me what a little shrine he had made of the box he was lying in.
<<
## p. 6827 (#207) ###########################################
EDWARD EVERETT HALE
6827
The Stars and Stripes were triced up above and around a picture
of Washington, and he had painted a majestic eagle, with light-
nings blazing from his beak, and his foot just clasping the whole
globe, which his wings overshadowed. The dear old boy saw
my glance, and said with a sad smile, "Here, you see, I have a
country! " And then he pointed to the foot of his bed, where I
had not seen before a great map of the United States, as he had
drawn it from memory, and which he had there to look upon as
he lay. Quaint, queer old names were on it in large letters:
"Indiana Territory," "Mississippi Territory," and "Louisiana
Territory," as I suppose our fathers learned such things: but the
old fellow had patched in Texas too; he had carried his western
boundary all the way to the Pacific, but on that shore he had
defined nothing.
"O Danforth," he said, "I know I am dying. I cannot get
home. Surely you will tell me something now? Stop! stop!
do not speak till I say what I am sure you know, that there is
not in this ship, that there is not in America - God bless her!
a more loyal man than I. There cannot be a man who loves
the old flag as I do, or prays for it as I do, or hopes for it as
I do. There are thirty-four stars in it now, Danforth. I thank
God for that, though I do not know what their names are.
There has never been one taken away; I thank God for that.
I know by that that there has never been any successful Burr.
O Danforth, Danforth," he sighed out, "how like a 'wretched
night's dream a boy's idea of personal fame or of separate sov-
ereignty seems, when one looks back on it after such a life as
mine! But tell me, tell me something tell me everything,
Danforth, before I die! "
―――
Ingham, I swear to you that I felt like a monster that I had
not told him everything before. Danger or no danger, delicacy
or no delicacy, who was I that I should have been acting the
tyrant all this time over this dear sainted old man, who had
years ago expiated, in his whole manhood's life, the madness of a
boy's treason? "Mr. Nolan," said I, "I will tell you everything
you ask about. Only, where shall I begin? »
Oh, the blessed smile that crept over his white face! and he
pressed my hand, and said, "God bless you! Tell me their
names," he said, and he pointed to the stars on the flag. "The
last I know is Ohio. My father lived in Kentucky. But I
have guessed Michigan and Indiana and Mississippi,- that was
## p. 6828 (#208) ###########################################
6828
EDWARD EVERETT HALE
where Fort Adams is: they make twenty. But where are your
other fourteen? You have not cut up any of the old ones, I
hope. »
Well, that was not a bad text; and I told him the names in
as good order as I could, and he bade me take down his beautiful
map, and draw them in as I best could with my pencil. He was
wild with delight about Texas, - told me how his cousin died
there; he had marked a gold cross near where he supposed his
grave was, and he had guessed at Texas. Then he was delighted
as he saw California and Oregon; that, he said, he had sus-
pected, partly because he had never been permitted to land on
that shore, though the ships were there so much. "And the
men," said he laughing, "brought off a good deal besides furs. "
Then he went back heavens, how far! -to ask about the
Chesapeake, and what was done to Barron for surrendering her
to the Leopard, and whether Burr ever tried again, and he
ground his teeth with the only passion he showed. But in a
moment that was over, and he said, "God forgive me, for I am
sure I forgive him. " Then he asked about the old war; told me
the true story of his serving the gun the day we took the Java;
asked about dear old David Porter, as he called him. Then he
settled down more quietly and very happily, to hear me tell in
an hour the history of fifty years.
How I wished it had been somebody who knew something!
But I did as well as I could. I told him of the English war. I
told him about Fulton and the steamboat beginning. I told him
about old Scott and Jackson; told him all I could think of about
the Mississippi and New Orleans and Texas and his own old
Kentucky. And do you think, he asked who was in command of
the "Legion of the West"! I told him it was a very gallant
officer named Grant, and that by our last news he was about to
establish his headquarters at Vicksburg. Then, "Where was
Vicksburg? " I worked that out on the map; it was about a
hundred miles, more or less, above his old Fort Adams; and I
thought Fort Adams must be a ruin now. "It must be at old
Vick's plantation, at Walnut Hills," said he: "well, that is a
change! "
I tell you, Ingham, it was a hard thing to condense the
history of half a century into that talk with a sick man. And
I do not now know what I told him, —of immigration, and the
means of it; of steamboats and railroads and telegraphs; of
-
## p. 6829 (#209) ###########################################
EDWARD EVERETT HALE
6829
inventions and books and literature; of the colleges and West
Point and the Naval School, - but with the queerest interrup-
tions that ever you heard. You see, it was Robinson Crusoe
asking all the accumulated questions of fifty-six years!
I remember he asked, all of a sudden, who was President
now; and when I told him, he asked if Old Abe was General
Benjamin Lincoln's son. He said he met old General Lincoln
when he was quite a boy himself, at some Indian treaty. I said
no, that Old Abe was a Kentuckian like himself, but I could not
tell him of what family; he had worked up from the ranks.
"Good for him! " cried Nolan; "I am glad of that. As I have
brooded and wondered, I have thought our danger was in keep-
ing up those regular successions in the first families. " Then I
got talking about my visit to Washington. I told him of meet-
ing the Oregon Congressman Harding; I told him about the
Smithsonian and the Exploring Expedition; I told him about the
Capitol, and the statues for the pediment, and Crawford's Liberty,
and Greenough's Washington. Ingham, I told him everything I
could think of that would show the grandeur of his country and
its prosperity; but I could not make up my mouth to tell him a
word about this infernal Rebellion!
And he drank it in, and enjoyed it as I cannot tell you. He
grew more and more silent, yet I never thought he was tired or
faint. I gave him a glass of water, but he just wet his lips, and
told me not to go away. Then he asked me to bring the Pres-
byterian 'Book of Public Prayer,' which lay there, and said with
a smile that it would open at the right place, and so it did.
There was his double red mark down the page; and I knelt down
and read, and he repeated with me:- "For ourselves and our
country, O gracious God, we thank thee that notwithstanding
our manifold transgressions of thy holy laws, thou hast con-
tinued to us thy marvelous kindness," - and so to the end of that
thanksgiving. Then he turned to the end of the same book, and
I read the words more familiar to me: "Most heartily we be-
seech thee with thy favor to behold and bless thy servant the
President of the United States, and all others in authority,”—
and the rest of the Episcopal collect. "Danforth," said he, "I
have repeated those prayers night and morning, it is now fifty-
five years. " And then he said he would go to sleep. He bent
me down over him, and kissed me; and he said, "Look in my
Bible, Danforth, when I am gone. " And I went away.
――
## p. 6830 (#210) ###########################################
6830
EDWARD EVERETT HALE
But I had no thought it was the end. I thought he was tired
and would sleep. I knew he was happy, and I wanted him to be
alone.
But in an hour, when the doctor went in gently, he found
Nolan had breathed his life away with a smile. He had some-
thing pressed close to his lips. It was his father's badge of the
Order of the Cincinnati.
We looked in his Bible, and there was a slip of paper at the
place where he had marked the text:
"They desire a country, even a heavenly: wherefore God is
not ashamed to be called their God; for he hath prepared for
them a city. "
On this slip of paper he had written:-
―
BURY me in the sea; it has been my home, and I love it.
But will not some one set up a stone for my memory at Fort
Adams or at Orleans, that my disgrace may not be more than I
ought to bear? Say on it:-
IN MEMORY OF
PHILIP NOLAN,
Lieutenant in the Army of the United States
He loved his country as no other man has loved her;
but no man deserved less at her hands.
## p. 6831 (#211) ###########################################
6831
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
(1834-)
UDOVIC HALÉVY, known to American readers chiefly as the
author of the graceful little novel The Abbé Constantin,'
entered French letters as a dramatist and writer of librettos.
Born in Paris in 1834 of Jewish parentage, he is the son of Léon
Halévy, a poet and littérateur of some note in his day; and he is, as
well, the nephew of the composer of The Jewess' and of 'The Queen
of Cyprus. ' He grew up in the atmosphere of the theatre. After
leaving college he entered his country's civil service, and rapidly
rose to occupy positions of distinction. At
the same time he gave his leisure to writ-
ing plays and short stories, looking forward
to the day when he would be able to throw
off the burdensome yoke of clerical duties
and to devote himself entirely to literature.
Unsuccessful at first, Halévy finally worked
his way into public favor, especially after
associating his pen with that of Henri Meil-
hac. In collaboration with the latter, Halévy
wrote many of the librettos of Offenbach's
most brilliant and satiric operettas, includ-
ing The Perichole,' 'The Brigands,' the
'Belle Hélène,' and 'The Grand Duchess
of Gérolstein'-a burlesque opera which had
such vogue that it is said to have been the first thing the Emperor
Alexander of Russia wished to hear, when he came to Paris to attend
the Exposition of 1867. Several serious librettos of high excellence
are from the same hands, including that for Bizet's Carmen. ' In
spoken drama, 'Frou-Frou' and 'Tricoche and Cacolet' are among
the most popular plays the two dramatists produced together. In
speaking of the collaboration of Halévy with Meilhac in humorous
drama, Francisque Sarcey says:-"Gifted with an exquisite apprecia-
tion of the real, Halévy has preserved the more fantastic and bizarre
characteristics of the imagination of the latter. From this mutual
work have sprung plays which in my opinion are not sufficiently
estimated by us; -we have seen them hundreds of times, and have
referred to them with a grimace of contempt. There is a great deal
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
## p. 6832 (#212) ###########################################
6832
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
of imagination, of wit, and of good sense in these amusing parodies
of every-day life. "
Yet, great as was the success of his dramatic work, Halévy's claim
to a place in French literature rests on what he produced alone after
the collaboration with Meilhac had suffered a rupture, in 1881. At
the same time he ceased writing for the stage, and turned to fiction.
'L'Abbé Constantin,' the first of his novels, is also the most popular.
It opened to him the French Academy. It was for more than one
season the French story of the day. It is a charming story, full of
fresh air and sun, simply and skillfully told. It presented a view
of American character and temperament not usual in French fiction;
and irreproachable in its moral tone, it has become a sort of classic
for American schools and colleges. La Famille Cardinal' (The Cardi-
nal Family) and 'Crichette' are others of Halévy's studies in fiction
of aspects of Parisian life. 'Notes and Souvenirs' embody observa-
tions during the Prussian invasion of 1871. They are interesting, as
giving faithful pictures of the temper of the people during those days.
Among his short stories, 'Un Mariage d'Amour' (A Marriage for
Love) is one of the most delightful; and a highly characteristic one,
'The Most Beautiful Woman in Paris,' is appended to this sketch.
Says Mr. Brander Matthews:-
-
"In all these books there are the same artistic qualities; the same sharp-
ness of vision, the same gentle irony, the same constructive skill, and the
same dramatic touch.
M. Halévy's irony is delicate and playful.
There is no harshness in his manner and no hatred in his mind. We do not
find in his pages any of the pessimism which is perhaps the dominant char-
acteristic of the best French fiction of our time.
More than Maupas-
sant, or Flaubert, or Merimée, is M. Halévy a Parisian. Whether or not the
characters of his tales are dwellers in the capital, whether or not the scene of
his story is laid in the city by the Seine, the point of view is always Parisian.
His style even, his swift and limpid prose,- the prose which some-
how corresponds to the best vers de société in its brilliancy and buoyancy,—
is the style of one who lives at the centre of things. Cardinal Newman once
said that while Livy and Tacitus and Terence and Seneca wrote Latin, Cicero
wrote Roman. So, while M. Zola on one side and M. Georges Ohnet on the
other may write French, M. Halévy writes Parisian. »
·
## p. 6833 (#213) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6833
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN PARIS
From Parisian Points of View. Copyright 1894, by Harper & Brothers
N FRIDAY, April 19th, Prince Agénor was really distracted at
the opera during the second act of Sigurd. ' The prince
kept going from box to box, and his enthusiasm increased
as he went.
Ο
(
"That blonde! oh, that blonde! she is ideal! Look at that
blonde! Do you know that blonde? "
It was from the front part of Madame de Marizy's large
first-tier box that all these exclamations were coming at that
moment.
“Which blonde? " asked Madame de Marizy.
"Which blonde! Why, there is but one this evening in the
house. Opposite to you, over there in the first box, the Sainte
Mesmes' box. Look, baroness, look straight over there. "
"Yes, I am looking at her. She is atrociously got up, but
pretty. "
«< Pretty! She is a wonder! simply a wonder!
Got up?
Yes, agreed some country relative. The Sainte Mesmes have
cousins in Périgord. But what a smile! How well her neck is
set on!
And the slope of the shoulders! ah, especially the
shoulders! "
"Come, either keep still or go away. Let me listen to Ma-
•
dame Caron. ”
The prince went away as no one knew that incomparable
blonde. Yet she had often been to the opera, but in an unpre-
tentious way-in the second tier of boxes. And to Prince Agé-
nor, above the first tier of boxes there was nothing, absolutely
nothing. There was emptiness—space. The prince had never
been in a second-tier box, so the second-tier boxes did not exist.
While Madame Caron was marvelously singing the marvelous
phrase of Reyer, "Ô mon sauveur silencieux, la Valkyrie est ta
conquête," the prince strolled along the passages of the opera.
Who was that blonde? He wanted to know, and he would.
know.
·
And suddenly he remembered that good Madame Picard was
the box-opener of the Sainte Mesmes, and that he, Prince of
Nérins, had had the honor of being for a long time a friend of
that good Madame Picard.
XII-428
## p. 6834 (#214) ###########################################
6834
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
"Ah, prince," said Madame Picard on seeing Agénor, "there
is no one for you to-night in my boxes. Madame de Simiane is
not here, and Madame de Sainte Mesme has rented her box. "
Don't you know the people in Madame
"That's precisely it.
de Sainte Mesme's box?
"Not at all, prince.
the marquise's box. "
It's the first time I have seen them in
"Then you have no idea-»
"None, prince. Only to me they don't appear to be people
of — »
She was going to say of our set. A box-opener of the first
tier of boxes at the opera, having generally only to do with
absolutely high-born people, considers herself as being a little of
their set, and shows extreme disdain for unimportant people; it
displeases her to receive these unimportant people in her boxes.
Madame Picard however had tact which rarely forsook her, and
so stopped herself in time to say:
"People of your set. They belong to the middle class, to the
wealthy middle class; but still the middle class. That doesn't
satisfy you; you wish to know more on account of the blonde.
Is it not so, prince? "
Those last words were spoken with rare delicacy; they were
murmured more than spoken-box-opener to prince! It would
have been unacceptable without that perfect reserve in accent
and tone; yes, it was a box-opener who spoke, but a box-opener
who was a little bit the aunt of former times, the aunt à la
mode de Cythère. Madame Picard continued:-
no
"Ah, she is a beauty! She came with a little dark man - her
husband, I'm sure; for while she was taking off her cloak — it
always takes some time he didn't say a word to her:
eagerness, no little attentions - yes, he could only be a husband.
I examined the cloak: people one doesn't know puzzle me and
my colleague; Madame Flachet and I always amuse ourselves by
trying to guess from appearances. Well, the cloak comes from a
good dressmaker, but not from a great one; it is fine and well
made, but it has no style. I think they are middle-class people,
prince. But how stupid I am! You know M. Palmer-well, a
little while ago he came to see the beautiful blonde! "
"M. Palmer? "
"Yes, and he can tell you. "
"Thanks, Madame Picard, thanks. "
―――――
## p. 6835 (#215) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6835
"Good-by, prince, good-by," and Madame Picard went back to
her stool, near her colleague Madame Flachet, and said to her:
"Ah, my dear, what a charming man the prince is! True
gentlefolks, there is nothing like them! But they are dying out,
they are dying out; there are many less than formerly. "
Prince Agénor was willing to do Palmer-big Palmer, rich
Palmer, vain Palmer-the honor of being one of his friends; he
deigned, and very frequently, to confide to Palmer his financial
difficulties, and the banker was delighted to come to his aid.
The prince had been obliged to resign himself to becoming a
member of two boards of directors presided over by Palmer, who
was much pleased at having under obligations to him the repre-
sentative of one of the noblest families in France. Besides, the
prince proved himself to be a good prince, and publicly acknowl-
edged Palmer, showing himself in his box, taking charge of his
entertainments, and occupying himself with his racing stable. He
had even pushed his gratitude to the point of compromising
Madame Palmer in the most showy way.
"I am removing her from the middle class," he said; "I owe
it to Palmer, who is one of the best fellows in the world. "
The prince found the banker alone in a lower box.
"What is the name. - the name of that blonde in the Sainte
Mesmes' box? "
"Madame Derline. "
"Is there a M. Derline ? »
"Certainly; a lawyer-my lawyer, the Sainte Mesmes' lawyer.
And if you want to see Madame Derline close to, come to my
ball next Thursday. She will be there. "
The wife of a lawyer! she was only the wife of a lawyer!
The prince sat down in the front of the box opposite Madame
Derline, and while looking at that lawyeress he was thinking.
"Have I," he said to himself, "sufficient credit, sufficient power,
to make of Madame Derline the most beautiful woman in Paris? "
For there was always a most beautiful woman in Paris, and it
was he, Prince Agénor, who flattered himself that he could dis-
cover, proclaim, crown, and consecrate that most beautiful woman
in Paris. Launch Madame Derline in society! Why not? He
had never launched any one from the middle class. The enter-
prise would be new, amusing, and bold. He looked at Madame
Derline through his opera-glass, and discovered thousands of beau-
ties and perfections in her delightful face.
## p. 6836 (#216) ###########################################
6836
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
After the opera, the prince, during the exit, placed himself at
the bottom of the great staircase. He had enlisted two of his
friends. "Come," he had said to them, "I will show you the
most beautiful woman in Paris. " While he was speaking, two
steps away from the prince was an alert young man who was
attached to a morning paper, a very widely read paper. The
young man had sharp ears; he caught on the fly the phrase of
the Prince Agénor, whose high social position he knew; he suc
ceeded in keeping close to the prince, and when Madame Der-
line passed, the young reporter had the luck of hearing the
conversation, without losing a word, of the three brilliant noble-
men. A quarter of an hour later he arrived at the office of the
paper.
"Is there time," he asked, "to write a dozen lines in the
Society Notebook ? »
"Yes, but hurry. "
The young man was a quick writer; the fifteen lines were
done in the twinkling of an eye. They brought seven francs
fifty to the reporter, but cost M. Derline a little more than that.
During this time Prince Agénor, seated in the club at the
whist table, was saying, while shuffling the cards:-
"This evening at the opera there was a marvelous woman, a
certain Madame Derline. She is the most beautiful woman in
Paris! "
The following morning, in the gossip-corner of the Bois, in
the spring sunshine, the prince, surrounded by a little group of
respectful disciples, was solemnly delivering from the back of his
roan mare the following opinion:-
"Listen well to what I say. The most beautiful woman in
Paris is a certain Madame Derline. This star will be visible
Thursday evening at the Palmers'. Go, and don't forget the
name-Madame Derline. "
The disciples dispersed, and went abroad spreading the great
news.
Madame Derline had been admirably brought up by an irre-
proachable mother; she had been taught that she ought to get
up in the morning, keep a strict account of her expenses, not go
to a great dressmaker, believe in God, love her husband, visit
the poor, and never spend but half her income, in order to pre-
pare dowries for her daughters. Madame Derline performed all
these duties. She led a peaceful and serene life in the old
## p. 6837 (#217) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6837
house (in the Rue Dragon) which had sheltered, since 1825, three
generations of Derlines; the husbands had all three been lawyers,
the wives had all three been virtuous. The three generations
had passed there a happy and moderate life, never having any
great pleasures, but also never being very much bored.
The next day Madame Derline awoke at eight o'clock in the
morning with an uneasy feeling. She had passed a troubled
night - she, who usually slept like a child. The evening before,
in the box at the opera, Madame Derline had vaguely felt that
something was going on around her. And during the entire last
act, an opera-glass obstinately fixed on her- the prince's opera-
glass had thrown her into a certain agitation, though not a
disagreeable one. She had worn a low dress-too low, in her
mother's opinion; and two or three times, under the fixity of
that opera-glass, she had raised the shoulder-straps of her dress.
So, after opening her eyes, Madame Derline re-closed them
lazily, indolently, with thoughts floating between dreamland and
reality. She again saw the opera-house, and a hundred, two
hundred, five hundred opera-glasses obstinately ixed on her—on
her alone.
The maid entered, placed a tray on a little table, made up a
big fire in the fireplace, and went away. There was a cup of
chocolate and the morning paper on the tray, the same as every
morning. Then Madame Derline courageously got up, slipped
her little bare feet into fur slippers, wrapped herself in a white
cashmere dressing-gown, and crouched shivering in an arm-chair
by the fire. She sipped the chocolate, and slightly burned her-
self; she must wait a little while. She put down the cup, took
up the paper, unfolded it, and rapidly ran her eye over the six
columns of the front page. At the bottom, quite at the bottom
of the sixth column, were the following lines:-
"Last evening at the opera there was a very brilliant performance
of Sigurd. ' Society was well represented there; the beautiful
Duchess of Montaiglon, the pretty Countess Verdinière of Lardac, the
marvelous Marquise of Muriel, the lively Baroness of —”
To read the name of the baroness it was necessary to turn
the page.
Madame Derline did not turn it; she was thinking,
reflecting. The evening before, she had amused herself by hav-
ing Palmer point out to her the social leaders in the house, and
## p. 6838 (#218) ###########################################
6838
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
it so happened that the banker had pointed out to her the mar-
velous marquise. And Madame Derline - who was twenty-two-
raised herself a little to look in the glass. She exchanged a
slight smile with a young blonde, who was very pink-and-white.
"Ah," she said to herself, "if I were a marquise the man
who wrote this would perhaps have paid some attention to me,
and my name would perhaps be there. I wonder if it's fun to
see one's name printed in a paper? "
And while addressing this question to herself, she turned the
page, and continued reading:-
"the lively Baroness of Myrvoix, etc. We have to announce the
appearance of a new star which has abruptly burst forth in the Paris-
ian constellation. The house was in ecstasy over a strange and dis-
turbing blonde, whose dark steel eyes, and whose shoulders — ah,
what shoulders! The shoulders were the event of the evening. From
all quarters one heard asked, "Who is she? "-"Who is she? "-"To
whom do those divine shoulders belong? "-"To whom? » We know,
and our readers will doubtless thank us for telling them the name of
this ideal wonder. It is Madame Derline. »
Her name! She had read her name! She was dazzled. Her
eyes clouded. All the letters in the alphabet began to dance
wildly on the paper. Then they calmed down, stopped, and
regained their places. She was able to find her name, and con-
tinue reading:-
"It is Madame Derline, the wife of one of the richest and most
agreeable lawyers in Paris. The Prince of Nérins, whose word has so
much weight in such matters, said yesterday evening to every one
who would listen, "She is the most beautiful woman in Paris. " We
are absolutely of that opinion. "
A single paragraph, and that was all. It was enough,- it was
too much! Madame Derline was seized with a feeling of inde-
finable confusion. It was a combination of fear and pleasure, of
joy and trouble, of satisfied vanity and wounded modesty. Her
dressing-gown was a little open; she folded it over with a sort
of violence, and crossed it upon her feet, abruptly drawn back
towards the arm-chair. She had a feeling of nudity. It seemed
to her that all Paris was there in her room, and that the Prince
de Nérins was in front saying to all Paris, "Look, look! She is
the most beautiful woman in Paris! "
## p. 6839 (#219) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6839
The Prince of Nérins! She knew the name well, for she read
with keen interest in the papers all the articles entitled 'Parisian
Life, High Life,' 'Society Echoes,' etc. ; and all the society
columns signed "Mousseline," "Fanfreluche," "Brimborion," "Vé-
loutine"; all the accounts of great marriages, great balls, of great
comings-out, and of great charity sales. The name of the prince
often figured in these articles, and he was always quoted as
supreme arbiter of Parisian elegances.
And it was he who had declared-ah! decidedly pleasure
got the better of fear. Still trembling with emotion, Madame
Derline went and placed herself before a long looking-glass, an
old cheval-glass from Jacob's, which never till now had reflected
other than good middle-class women married to good lawyers.
In that glass she looked at herself, examined herself, studied
herself,-long, curiously, and eagerly. Of course she knew she
was pretty, but oh, the power of print! she found herself abso-
lutely delightful. She was no longer Madame Derline; she was
the most beautiful woman in Paris! Her feet, her little feet-
their bareness no longer troubled her-left the ground. She
raised herself gently towards the heavens, towards the clouds,
and felt herself become a goddess.
But suddenly an anxiety seized her. "Edward! what would
Edward say? " Edward was her husband. There had been but
one man's surname in her life-her husband's. The lawyer was
well loved! And almost at the same moment when she was
asking herself what Edward would say, Edward abruptly opened
the door.
He was a little out of breath. He had run up-stairs two at
a time. He was peacefully rummaging among old papers in his
study on the ground-floor when one of his brother lawyers-with
forced congratulations, however,- had made him read the famous
article. He had soon got rid of his brother lawyer, and he had
come, much irritated, to his room. At first there was simply a
torrent of words.
"Why do these journalists meddle? It's an outrage! Your
name— look, there is your name in this paper! "
"Yes, I know, I've seen — »
"Ah, you know, you have seen - and you think it quite
natural!
>>
"But, dear-
"What times do we live in? It's your fault, too. "
»
:
## p. 6840 (#220) ###########################################
6840
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
"My fault! "
"Yes, your fault!
"And how? "
"Your dress last night was too low, much too low. Besides,
your mother told you so- »
"Oh, mamma — »
"You needn't say 'Oh, mamma! ' Your mother was right.
There, read: And whose shoulders-ah, what shoulders! ' And
it is of your shoulders they are speaking. And that prince who
dares to award you a prize for beauty! "
The good man had plebeian, Gothic ideas - the ideas of a
lawyer of old times, of a lawyer of the Rue Dragon; the lawyers
of the Boulevard Malesherbes are no longer like that.
Madame Derline very gently, very quietly, brought the rebel
back to reason. Of course there was charm and eloquence in
her speech, but how much more charm and eloquence in the
tenderness of her glance and smile!
Why this great rage and despair? He was accused of being
the husband of the most beautiful woman in Paris. Was that
such a horrible thing, such a terrible misfortune? And who was
the brother lawyer, the good brother lawyer, who had taken
pleasure in coming to show him the hateful article?
"M. Renaud. "
"Oh, it was M. Renaud-dear M. Renaud! "
Thereupon Madame Derline was seized with a hearty fit of
laughter; so much so that the blond hair, which had been loosely
done up, came down and framed the pretty face from which
gleamed the dark eyes, which could also, when they gave them-
selves the trouble, look very gentle, very caressing, very loving.
"Oh, it was M. Renaud, the husband of that delightful Ma-
dame Renaud! Well, do you know what you will do immediately,
without losing a minute? go to the president of the Tribunal
and ask for a divorce.
men who sailed his ark for him. I do not excuse Nolan; I only
explain to the reader why he damned his country, and wished
he might never hear her name again.
He never did hear her name but once again. From that
moment, September 23d, 1807, till the day he died, May 11th,
1863, he never heard her name again. For that half-century and
more he was a man without a country.
Old Morgan, as I said, was terribly shocked. If Nolan had
compared George Washington to Benedict Arnold, or had cried
"God save King George! " Morgan would not have felt worse.
He called the court into his private room, and returned in fifteen
minutes with a face like a sheet, to say:
-
"Prisoner, hear the sentence of the court! The court decides,
subject to the approval of the President, that you never hear the
name of the United States again. "
Nolan laughed. But nobody else laughed. Old Morgan was
too solemn, and the whole room was hushed dead as night for a
minute. Even Nolan lost his swagger in a moment. Then Mor-
gan added:-
"Mr. Marshal, take the prisoner to Orleans in an armed boat,
and deliver him to the naval commander there. "
The marshal gave his orders, and the prisoner was taken out
of court.
"Mr. Marshal," continued old Morgan, «< see that no one men-
tions the United States to the prisoner. Mr. Marshal, make my
respects to Lieutenant Mitchell at Orleans, and request him to
order that no one shall mention the United States to the pris-
oner while he is on board ship. You will receive your written
orders from the officer on duty here this evening. The court is
adjourned without day. "
Since writing this, and while considering whether or no I
would print it as a warning to the young Nolans and Vallan-
dighams and Tatnalls of to-day of what it is to throw away a
## p. 6826 (#206) ###########################################
6826
EDWARD EVERETT HALE
country, I have received from Danforth, who is on board the
Levant, a letter which gives an account of Nolan's last hours. It
removes all my doubts about telling this story.
To understand the first words of the letter, the non-profes-
sional reader should remember that after 1817 the position of
every officer who had Nolan in charge was one of the greatest
delicacy. The government had failed to renew the order of 1807
regarding him. What was a man to do? Should he let him go?
what then if he were called to account by the Department for
violating the order of 1807? Should he keep him? what then if
Nolan should be liberated some day, and should bring an action
for false imprisonment or kidnapping against every man who
had had him in charge? I urged and pressed this upon South-
ard, and I have reason to think that other officers did the same
thing. But the Secretary always said, as they so often do at
Washington, that there were no special orders to give, and that
we must act on our own judgment. That means, “If you suc-
ceed, you will be sustained; if you fail, you will be disavowed. "
Well, as Danforth says, all that is over now; though I do not
know but I expose myself to a criminal prosecution on the evi-
dence of the very revelation I am making.
Here is the letter:-
LEVANT, 2°2′ S. @ 131° W.
Dear Fred:
I TRY to find heart and life to tell you that it is all over with
dear old Nolan. I have been with him on this voyage more than
I ever was; and I can understand wholly now the way in which
you used to speak of the dear old fellow. I could see that he
was not strong, but I had no idea the end was so near. The
doctor has been watching him very carefully, and yesterday morn-
ing came to me and told me that Nolan was not so well, and
had not left his state-room,-a thing I never remember before.
He had let the doctor come and see him as he lay there,— the
first time the doctor had been in the state-room,- and he said he
should like to see me. Oh dear! do you remember the mysteries
we boys used to invent about his room in the old Intrepid"
days? Well, I went in; and there to be sure the poor fellow lay
in his berth, smiling pleasantly as he gave me his hand, but
looking very frail. I could not help a glance round, which showed
me what a little shrine he had made of the box he was lying in.
<<
## p. 6827 (#207) ###########################################
EDWARD EVERETT HALE
6827
The Stars and Stripes were triced up above and around a picture
of Washington, and he had painted a majestic eagle, with light-
nings blazing from his beak, and his foot just clasping the whole
globe, which his wings overshadowed. The dear old boy saw
my glance, and said with a sad smile, "Here, you see, I have a
country! " And then he pointed to the foot of his bed, where I
had not seen before a great map of the United States, as he had
drawn it from memory, and which he had there to look upon as
he lay. Quaint, queer old names were on it in large letters:
"Indiana Territory," "Mississippi Territory," and "Louisiana
Territory," as I suppose our fathers learned such things: but the
old fellow had patched in Texas too; he had carried his western
boundary all the way to the Pacific, but on that shore he had
defined nothing.
"O Danforth," he said, "I know I am dying. I cannot get
home. Surely you will tell me something now? Stop! stop!
do not speak till I say what I am sure you know, that there is
not in this ship, that there is not in America - God bless her!
a more loyal man than I. There cannot be a man who loves
the old flag as I do, or prays for it as I do, or hopes for it as
I do. There are thirty-four stars in it now, Danforth. I thank
God for that, though I do not know what their names are.
There has never been one taken away; I thank God for that.
I know by that that there has never been any successful Burr.
O Danforth, Danforth," he sighed out, "how like a 'wretched
night's dream a boy's idea of personal fame or of separate sov-
ereignty seems, when one looks back on it after such a life as
mine! But tell me, tell me something tell me everything,
Danforth, before I die! "
―――
Ingham, I swear to you that I felt like a monster that I had
not told him everything before. Danger or no danger, delicacy
or no delicacy, who was I that I should have been acting the
tyrant all this time over this dear sainted old man, who had
years ago expiated, in his whole manhood's life, the madness of a
boy's treason? "Mr. Nolan," said I, "I will tell you everything
you ask about. Only, where shall I begin? »
Oh, the blessed smile that crept over his white face! and he
pressed my hand, and said, "God bless you! Tell me their
names," he said, and he pointed to the stars on the flag. "The
last I know is Ohio. My father lived in Kentucky. But I
have guessed Michigan and Indiana and Mississippi,- that was
## p. 6828 (#208) ###########################################
6828
EDWARD EVERETT HALE
where Fort Adams is: they make twenty. But where are your
other fourteen? You have not cut up any of the old ones, I
hope. »
Well, that was not a bad text; and I told him the names in
as good order as I could, and he bade me take down his beautiful
map, and draw them in as I best could with my pencil. He was
wild with delight about Texas, - told me how his cousin died
there; he had marked a gold cross near where he supposed his
grave was, and he had guessed at Texas. Then he was delighted
as he saw California and Oregon; that, he said, he had sus-
pected, partly because he had never been permitted to land on
that shore, though the ships were there so much. "And the
men," said he laughing, "brought off a good deal besides furs. "
Then he went back heavens, how far! -to ask about the
Chesapeake, and what was done to Barron for surrendering her
to the Leopard, and whether Burr ever tried again, and he
ground his teeth with the only passion he showed. But in a
moment that was over, and he said, "God forgive me, for I am
sure I forgive him. " Then he asked about the old war; told me
the true story of his serving the gun the day we took the Java;
asked about dear old David Porter, as he called him. Then he
settled down more quietly and very happily, to hear me tell in
an hour the history of fifty years.
How I wished it had been somebody who knew something!
But I did as well as I could. I told him of the English war. I
told him about Fulton and the steamboat beginning. I told him
about old Scott and Jackson; told him all I could think of about
the Mississippi and New Orleans and Texas and his own old
Kentucky. And do you think, he asked who was in command of
the "Legion of the West"! I told him it was a very gallant
officer named Grant, and that by our last news he was about to
establish his headquarters at Vicksburg. Then, "Where was
Vicksburg? " I worked that out on the map; it was about a
hundred miles, more or less, above his old Fort Adams; and I
thought Fort Adams must be a ruin now. "It must be at old
Vick's plantation, at Walnut Hills," said he: "well, that is a
change! "
I tell you, Ingham, it was a hard thing to condense the
history of half a century into that talk with a sick man. And
I do not now know what I told him, —of immigration, and the
means of it; of steamboats and railroads and telegraphs; of
-
## p. 6829 (#209) ###########################################
EDWARD EVERETT HALE
6829
inventions and books and literature; of the colleges and West
Point and the Naval School, - but with the queerest interrup-
tions that ever you heard. You see, it was Robinson Crusoe
asking all the accumulated questions of fifty-six years!
I remember he asked, all of a sudden, who was President
now; and when I told him, he asked if Old Abe was General
Benjamin Lincoln's son. He said he met old General Lincoln
when he was quite a boy himself, at some Indian treaty. I said
no, that Old Abe was a Kentuckian like himself, but I could not
tell him of what family; he had worked up from the ranks.
"Good for him! " cried Nolan; "I am glad of that. As I have
brooded and wondered, I have thought our danger was in keep-
ing up those regular successions in the first families. " Then I
got talking about my visit to Washington. I told him of meet-
ing the Oregon Congressman Harding; I told him about the
Smithsonian and the Exploring Expedition; I told him about the
Capitol, and the statues for the pediment, and Crawford's Liberty,
and Greenough's Washington. Ingham, I told him everything I
could think of that would show the grandeur of his country and
its prosperity; but I could not make up my mouth to tell him a
word about this infernal Rebellion!
And he drank it in, and enjoyed it as I cannot tell you. He
grew more and more silent, yet I never thought he was tired or
faint. I gave him a glass of water, but he just wet his lips, and
told me not to go away. Then he asked me to bring the Pres-
byterian 'Book of Public Prayer,' which lay there, and said with
a smile that it would open at the right place, and so it did.
There was his double red mark down the page; and I knelt down
and read, and he repeated with me:- "For ourselves and our
country, O gracious God, we thank thee that notwithstanding
our manifold transgressions of thy holy laws, thou hast con-
tinued to us thy marvelous kindness," - and so to the end of that
thanksgiving. Then he turned to the end of the same book, and
I read the words more familiar to me: "Most heartily we be-
seech thee with thy favor to behold and bless thy servant the
President of the United States, and all others in authority,”—
and the rest of the Episcopal collect. "Danforth," said he, "I
have repeated those prayers night and morning, it is now fifty-
five years. " And then he said he would go to sleep. He bent
me down over him, and kissed me; and he said, "Look in my
Bible, Danforth, when I am gone. " And I went away.
――
## p. 6830 (#210) ###########################################
6830
EDWARD EVERETT HALE
But I had no thought it was the end. I thought he was tired
and would sleep. I knew he was happy, and I wanted him to be
alone.
But in an hour, when the doctor went in gently, he found
Nolan had breathed his life away with a smile. He had some-
thing pressed close to his lips. It was his father's badge of the
Order of the Cincinnati.
We looked in his Bible, and there was a slip of paper at the
place where he had marked the text:
"They desire a country, even a heavenly: wherefore God is
not ashamed to be called their God; for he hath prepared for
them a city. "
On this slip of paper he had written:-
―
BURY me in the sea; it has been my home, and I love it.
But will not some one set up a stone for my memory at Fort
Adams or at Orleans, that my disgrace may not be more than I
ought to bear? Say on it:-
IN MEMORY OF
PHILIP NOLAN,
Lieutenant in the Army of the United States
He loved his country as no other man has loved her;
but no man deserved less at her hands.
## p. 6831 (#211) ###########################################
6831
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
(1834-)
UDOVIC HALÉVY, known to American readers chiefly as the
author of the graceful little novel The Abbé Constantin,'
entered French letters as a dramatist and writer of librettos.
Born in Paris in 1834 of Jewish parentage, he is the son of Léon
Halévy, a poet and littérateur of some note in his day; and he is, as
well, the nephew of the composer of The Jewess' and of 'The Queen
of Cyprus. ' He grew up in the atmosphere of the theatre. After
leaving college he entered his country's civil service, and rapidly
rose to occupy positions of distinction. At
the same time he gave his leisure to writ-
ing plays and short stories, looking forward
to the day when he would be able to throw
off the burdensome yoke of clerical duties
and to devote himself entirely to literature.
Unsuccessful at first, Halévy finally worked
his way into public favor, especially after
associating his pen with that of Henri Meil-
hac. In collaboration with the latter, Halévy
wrote many of the librettos of Offenbach's
most brilliant and satiric operettas, includ-
ing The Perichole,' 'The Brigands,' the
'Belle Hélène,' and 'The Grand Duchess
of Gérolstein'-a burlesque opera which had
such vogue that it is said to have been the first thing the Emperor
Alexander of Russia wished to hear, when he came to Paris to attend
the Exposition of 1867. Several serious librettos of high excellence
are from the same hands, including that for Bizet's Carmen. ' In
spoken drama, 'Frou-Frou' and 'Tricoche and Cacolet' are among
the most popular plays the two dramatists produced together. In
speaking of the collaboration of Halévy with Meilhac in humorous
drama, Francisque Sarcey says:-"Gifted with an exquisite apprecia-
tion of the real, Halévy has preserved the more fantastic and bizarre
characteristics of the imagination of the latter. From this mutual
work have sprung plays which in my opinion are not sufficiently
estimated by us; -we have seen them hundreds of times, and have
referred to them with a grimace of contempt. There is a great deal
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
## p. 6832 (#212) ###########################################
6832
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
of imagination, of wit, and of good sense in these amusing parodies
of every-day life. "
Yet, great as was the success of his dramatic work, Halévy's claim
to a place in French literature rests on what he produced alone after
the collaboration with Meilhac had suffered a rupture, in 1881. At
the same time he ceased writing for the stage, and turned to fiction.
'L'Abbé Constantin,' the first of his novels, is also the most popular.
It opened to him the French Academy. It was for more than one
season the French story of the day. It is a charming story, full of
fresh air and sun, simply and skillfully told. It presented a view
of American character and temperament not usual in French fiction;
and irreproachable in its moral tone, it has become a sort of classic
for American schools and colleges. La Famille Cardinal' (The Cardi-
nal Family) and 'Crichette' are others of Halévy's studies in fiction
of aspects of Parisian life. 'Notes and Souvenirs' embody observa-
tions during the Prussian invasion of 1871. They are interesting, as
giving faithful pictures of the temper of the people during those days.
Among his short stories, 'Un Mariage d'Amour' (A Marriage for
Love) is one of the most delightful; and a highly characteristic one,
'The Most Beautiful Woman in Paris,' is appended to this sketch.
Says Mr. Brander Matthews:-
-
"In all these books there are the same artistic qualities; the same sharp-
ness of vision, the same gentle irony, the same constructive skill, and the
same dramatic touch.
M. Halévy's irony is delicate and playful.
There is no harshness in his manner and no hatred in his mind. We do not
find in his pages any of the pessimism which is perhaps the dominant char-
acteristic of the best French fiction of our time.
More than Maupas-
sant, or Flaubert, or Merimée, is M. Halévy a Parisian. Whether or not the
characters of his tales are dwellers in the capital, whether or not the scene of
his story is laid in the city by the Seine, the point of view is always Parisian.
His style even, his swift and limpid prose,- the prose which some-
how corresponds to the best vers de société in its brilliancy and buoyancy,—
is the style of one who lives at the centre of things. Cardinal Newman once
said that while Livy and Tacitus and Terence and Seneca wrote Latin, Cicero
wrote Roman. So, while M. Zola on one side and M. Georges Ohnet on the
other may write French, M. Halévy writes Parisian. »
·
## p. 6833 (#213) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6833
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN PARIS
From Parisian Points of View. Copyright 1894, by Harper & Brothers
N FRIDAY, April 19th, Prince Agénor was really distracted at
the opera during the second act of Sigurd. ' The prince
kept going from box to box, and his enthusiasm increased
as he went.
Ο
(
"That blonde! oh, that blonde! she is ideal! Look at that
blonde! Do you know that blonde? "
It was from the front part of Madame de Marizy's large
first-tier box that all these exclamations were coming at that
moment.
“Which blonde? " asked Madame de Marizy.
"Which blonde! Why, there is but one this evening in the
house. Opposite to you, over there in the first box, the Sainte
Mesmes' box. Look, baroness, look straight over there. "
"Yes, I am looking at her. She is atrociously got up, but
pretty. "
«< Pretty! She is a wonder! simply a wonder!
Got up?
Yes, agreed some country relative. The Sainte Mesmes have
cousins in Périgord. But what a smile! How well her neck is
set on!
And the slope of the shoulders! ah, especially the
shoulders! "
"Come, either keep still or go away. Let me listen to Ma-
•
dame Caron. ”
The prince went away as no one knew that incomparable
blonde. Yet she had often been to the opera, but in an unpre-
tentious way-in the second tier of boxes. And to Prince Agé-
nor, above the first tier of boxes there was nothing, absolutely
nothing. There was emptiness—space. The prince had never
been in a second-tier box, so the second-tier boxes did not exist.
While Madame Caron was marvelously singing the marvelous
phrase of Reyer, "Ô mon sauveur silencieux, la Valkyrie est ta
conquête," the prince strolled along the passages of the opera.
Who was that blonde? He wanted to know, and he would.
know.
·
And suddenly he remembered that good Madame Picard was
the box-opener of the Sainte Mesmes, and that he, Prince of
Nérins, had had the honor of being for a long time a friend of
that good Madame Picard.
XII-428
## p. 6834 (#214) ###########################################
6834
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
"Ah, prince," said Madame Picard on seeing Agénor, "there
is no one for you to-night in my boxes. Madame de Simiane is
not here, and Madame de Sainte Mesme has rented her box. "
Don't you know the people in Madame
"That's precisely it.
de Sainte Mesme's box?
"Not at all, prince.
the marquise's box. "
It's the first time I have seen them in
"Then you have no idea-»
"None, prince. Only to me they don't appear to be people
of — »
She was going to say of our set. A box-opener of the first
tier of boxes at the opera, having generally only to do with
absolutely high-born people, considers herself as being a little of
their set, and shows extreme disdain for unimportant people; it
displeases her to receive these unimportant people in her boxes.
Madame Picard however had tact which rarely forsook her, and
so stopped herself in time to say:
"People of your set. They belong to the middle class, to the
wealthy middle class; but still the middle class. That doesn't
satisfy you; you wish to know more on account of the blonde.
Is it not so, prince? "
Those last words were spoken with rare delicacy; they were
murmured more than spoken-box-opener to prince! It would
have been unacceptable without that perfect reserve in accent
and tone; yes, it was a box-opener who spoke, but a box-opener
who was a little bit the aunt of former times, the aunt à la
mode de Cythère. Madame Picard continued:-
no
"Ah, she is a beauty! She came with a little dark man - her
husband, I'm sure; for while she was taking off her cloak — it
always takes some time he didn't say a word to her:
eagerness, no little attentions - yes, he could only be a husband.
I examined the cloak: people one doesn't know puzzle me and
my colleague; Madame Flachet and I always amuse ourselves by
trying to guess from appearances. Well, the cloak comes from a
good dressmaker, but not from a great one; it is fine and well
made, but it has no style. I think they are middle-class people,
prince. But how stupid I am! You know M. Palmer-well, a
little while ago he came to see the beautiful blonde! "
"M. Palmer? "
"Yes, and he can tell you. "
"Thanks, Madame Picard, thanks. "
―――――
## p. 6835 (#215) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6835
"Good-by, prince, good-by," and Madame Picard went back to
her stool, near her colleague Madame Flachet, and said to her:
"Ah, my dear, what a charming man the prince is! True
gentlefolks, there is nothing like them! But they are dying out,
they are dying out; there are many less than formerly. "
Prince Agénor was willing to do Palmer-big Palmer, rich
Palmer, vain Palmer-the honor of being one of his friends; he
deigned, and very frequently, to confide to Palmer his financial
difficulties, and the banker was delighted to come to his aid.
The prince had been obliged to resign himself to becoming a
member of two boards of directors presided over by Palmer, who
was much pleased at having under obligations to him the repre-
sentative of one of the noblest families in France. Besides, the
prince proved himself to be a good prince, and publicly acknowl-
edged Palmer, showing himself in his box, taking charge of his
entertainments, and occupying himself with his racing stable. He
had even pushed his gratitude to the point of compromising
Madame Palmer in the most showy way.
"I am removing her from the middle class," he said; "I owe
it to Palmer, who is one of the best fellows in the world. "
The prince found the banker alone in a lower box.
"What is the name. - the name of that blonde in the Sainte
Mesmes' box? "
"Madame Derline. "
"Is there a M. Derline ? »
"Certainly; a lawyer-my lawyer, the Sainte Mesmes' lawyer.
And if you want to see Madame Derline close to, come to my
ball next Thursday. She will be there. "
The wife of a lawyer! she was only the wife of a lawyer!
The prince sat down in the front of the box opposite Madame
Derline, and while looking at that lawyeress he was thinking.
"Have I," he said to himself, "sufficient credit, sufficient power,
to make of Madame Derline the most beautiful woman in Paris? "
For there was always a most beautiful woman in Paris, and it
was he, Prince Agénor, who flattered himself that he could dis-
cover, proclaim, crown, and consecrate that most beautiful woman
in Paris. Launch Madame Derline in society! Why not? He
had never launched any one from the middle class. The enter-
prise would be new, amusing, and bold. He looked at Madame
Derline through his opera-glass, and discovered thousands of beau-
ties and perfections in her delightful face.
## p. 6836 (#216) ###########################################
6836
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
After the opera, the prince, during the exit, placed himself at
the bottom of the great staircase. He had enlisted two of his
friends. "Come," he had said to them, "I will show you the
most beautiful woman in Paris. " While he was speaking, two
steps away from the prince was an alert young man who was
attached to a morning paper, a very widely read paper. The
young man had sharp ears; he caught on the fly the phrase of
the Prince Agénor, whose high social position he knew; he suc
ceeded in keeping close to the prince, and when Madame Der-
line passed, the young reporter had the luck of hearing the
conversation, without losing a word, of the three brilliant noble-
men. A quarter of an hour later he arrived at the office of the
paper.
"Is there time," he asked, "to write a dozen lines in the
Society Notebook ? »
"Yes, but hurry. "
The young man was a quick writer; the fifteen lines were
done in the twinkling of an eye. They brought seven francs
fifty to the reporter, but cost M. Derline a little more than that.
During this time Prince Agénor, seated in the club at the
whist table, was saying, while shuffling the cards:-
"This evening at the opera there was a marvelous woman, a
certain Madame Derline. She is the most beautiful woman in
Paris! "
The following morning, in the gossip-corner of the Bois, in
the spring sunshine, the prince, surrounded by a little group of
respectful disciples, was solemnly delivering from the back of his
roan mare the following opinion:-
"Listen well to what I say. The most beautiful woman in
Paris is a certain Madame Derline. This star will be visible
Thursday evening at the Palmers'. Go, and don't forget the
name-Madame Derline. "
The disciples dispersed, and went abroad spreading the great
news.
Madame Derline had been admirably brought up by an irre-
proachable mother; she had been taught that she ought to get
up in the morning, keep a strict account of her expenses, not go
to a great dressmaker, believe in God, love her husband, visit
the poor, and never spend but half her income, in order to pre-
pare dowries for her daughters. Madame Derline performed all
these duties. She led a peaceful and serene life in the old
## p. 6837 (#217) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6837
house (in the Rue Dragon) which had sheltered, since 1825, three
generations of Derlines; the husbands had all three been lawyers,
the wives had all three been virtuous. The three generations
had passed there a happy and moderate life, never having any
great pleasures, but also never being very much bored.
The next day Madame Derline awoke at eight o'clock in the
morning with an uneasy feeling. She had passed a troubled
night - she, who usually slept like a child. The evening before,
in the box at the opera, Madame Derline had vaguely felt that
something was going on around her. And during the entire last
act, an opera-glass obstinately fixed on her- the prince's opera-
glass had thrown her into a certain agitation, though not a
disagreeable one. She had worn a low dress-too low, in her
mother's opinion; and two or three times, under the fixity of
that opera-glass, she had raised the shoulder-straps of her dress.
So, after opening her eyes, Madame Derline re-closed them
lazily, indolently, with thoughts floating between dreamland and
reality. She again saw the opera-house, and a hundred, two
hundred, five hundred opera-glasses obstinately ixed on her—on
her alone.
The maid entered, placed a tray on a little table, made up a
big fire in the fireplace, and went away. There was a cup of
chocolate and the morning paper on the tray, the same as every
morning. Then Madame Derline courageously got up, slipped
her little bare feet into fur slippers, wrapped herself in a white
cashmere dressing-gown, and crouched shivering in an arm-chair
by the fire. She sipped the chocolate, and slightly burned her-
self; she must wait a little while. She put down the cup, took
up the paper, unfolded it, and rapidly ran her eye over the six
columns of the front page. At the bottom, quite at the bottom
of the sixth column, were the following lines:-
"Last evening at the opera there was a very brilliant performance
of Sigurd. ' Society was well represented there; the beautiful
Duchess of Montaiglon, the pretty Countess Verdinière of Lardac, the
marvelous Marquise of Muriel, the lively Baroness of —”
To read the name of the baroness it was necessary to turn
the page.
Madame Derline did not turn it; she was thinking,
reflecting. The evening before, she had amused herself by hav-
ing Palmer point out to her the social leaders in the house, and
## p. 6838 (#218) ###########################################
6838
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
it so happened that the banker had pointed out to her the mar-
velous marquise. And Madame Derline - who was twenty-two-
raised herself a little to look in the glass. She exchanged a
slight smile with a young blonde, who was very pink-and-white.
"Ah," she said to herself, "if I were a marquise the man
who wrote this would perhaps have paid some attention to me,
and my name would perhaps be there. I wonder if it's fun to
see one's name printed in a paper? "
And while addressing this question to herself, she turned the
page, and continued reading:-
"the lively Baroness of Myrvoix, etc. We have to announce the
appearance of a new star which has abruptly burst forth in the Paris-
ian constellation. The house was in ecstasy over a strange and dis-
turbing blonde, whose dark steel eyes, and whose shoulders — ah,
what shoulders! The shoulders were the event of the evening. From
all quarters one heard asked, "Who is she? "-"Who is she? "-"To
whom do those divine shoulders belong? "-"To whom? » We know,
and our readers will doubtless thank us for telling them the name of
this ideal wonder. It is Madame Derline. »
Her name! She had read her name! She was dazzled. Her
eyes clouded. All the letters in the alphabet began to dance
wildly on the paper. Then they calmed down, stopped, and
regained their places. She was able to find her name, and con-
tinue reading:-
"It is Madame Derline, the wife of one of the richest and most
agreeable lawyers in Paris. The Prince of Nérins, whose word has so
much weight in such matters, said yesterday evening to every one
who would listen, "She is the most beautiful woman in Paris. " We
are absolutely of that opinion. "
A single paragraph, and that was all. It was enough,- it was
too much! Madame Derline was seized with a feeling of inde-
finable confusion. It was a combination of fear and pleasure, of
joy and trouble, of satisfied vanity and wounded modesty. Her
dressing-gown was a little open; she folded it over with a sort
of violence, and crossed it upon her feet, abruptly drawn back
towards the arm-chair. She had a feeling of nudity. It seemed
to her that all Paris was there in her room, and that the Prince
de Nérins was in front saying to all Paris, "Look, look! She is
the most beautiful woman in Paris! "
## p. 6839 (#219) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6839
The Prince of Nérins! She knew the name well, for she read
with keen interest in the papers all the articles entitled 'Parisian
Life, High Life,' 'Society Echoes,' etc. ; and all the society
columns signed "Mousseline," "Fanfreluche," "Brimborion," "Vé-
loutine"; all the accounts of great marriages, great balls, of great
comings-out, and of great charity sales. The name of the prince
often figured in these articles, and he was always quoted as
supreme arbiter of Parisian elegances.
And it was he who had declared-ah! decidedly pleasure
got the better of fear. Still trembling with emotion, Madame
Derline went and placed herself before a long looking-glass, an
old cheval-glass from Jacob's, which never till now had reflected
other than good middle-class women married to good lawyers.
In that glass she looked at herself, examined herself, studied
herself,-long, curiously, and eagerly. Of course she knew she
was pretty, but oh, the power of print! she found herself abso-
lutely delightful. She was no longer Madame Derline; she was
the most beautiful woman in Paris! Her feet, her little feet-
their bareness no longer troubled her-left the ground. She
raised herself gently towards the heavens, towards the clouds,
and felt herself become a goddess.
But suddenly an anxiety seized her. "Edward! what would
Edward say? " Edward was her husband. There had been but
one man's surname in her life-her husband's. The lawyer was
well loved! And almost at the same moment when she was
asking herself what Edward would say, Edward abruptly opened
the door.
He was a little out of breath. He had run up-stairs two at
a time. He was peacefully rummaging among old papers in his
study on the ground-floor when one of his brother lawyers-with
forced congratulations, however,- had made him read the famous
article. He had soon got rid of his brother lawyer, and he had
come, much irritated, to his room. At first there was simply a
torrent of words.
"Why do these journalists meddle? It's an outrage! Your
name— look, there is your name in this paper! "
"Yes, I know, I've seen — »
"Ah, you know, you have seen - and you think it quite
natural!
>>
"But, dear-
"What times do we live in? It's your fault, too. "
»
:
## p. 6840 (#220) ###########################################
6840
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
"My fault! "
"Yes, your fault!
"And how? "
"Your dress last night was too low, much too low. Besides,
your mother told you so- »
"Oh, mamma — »
"You needn't say 'Oh, mamma! ' Your mother was right.
There, read: And whose shoulders-ah, what shoulders! ' And
it is of your shoulders they are speaking. And that prince who
dares to award you a prize for beauty! "
The good man had plebeian, Gothic ideas - the ideas of a
lawyer of old times, of a lawyer of the Rue Dragon; the lawyers
of the Boulevard Malesherbes are no longer like that.
Madame Derline very gently, very quietly, brought the rebel
back to reason. Of course there was charm and eloquence in
her speech, but how much more charm and eloquence in the
tenderness of her glance and smile!
Why this great rage and despair? He was accused of being
the husband of the most beautiful woman in Paris. Was that
such a horrible thing, such a terrible misfortune? And who was
the brother lawyer, the good brother lawyer, who had taken
pleasure in coming to show him the hateful article?
"M. Renaud. "
"Oh, it was M. Renaud-dear M. Renaud! "
Thereupon Madame Derline was seized with a hearty fit of
laughter; so much so that the blond hair, which had been loosely
done up, came down and framed the pretty face from which
gleamed the dark eyes, which could also, when they gave them-
selves the trouble, look very gentle, very caressing, very loving.
"Oh, it was M. Renaud, the husband of that delightful Ma-
dame Renaud! Well, do you know what you will do immediately,
without losing a minute? go to the president of the Tribunal
and ask for a divorce.
