Monsieur Beaucaire
1
Monsieur Beaucaire
by Booth Tarkington
Monsieur Beaucaire
2
Chapter One
The young Frenchman did very well what he had planned to do.
His guess that the Duke would cheat proved good. As the unshod half-
dozen figures that had been standing noiselessly in the entryway stole
softly into the shadows of the chamber, he leaned across the table and
smilingly plucked a card out of the big Englishman's sleeve.
"Merci, M. le Duc!" he laughed, rising and stepping back from the
table.
The Englishman cried out, "It means the dirty work of silencing you
with my bare hands!" and came at him.
"Do not move," said M. Beaucaire, so sharply that the other paused.
"Observe behind you."
The Englishman turned, and saw what trap he had blundered into; then
stood transfixed, impotent, alternately scarlet with rage and white with the
vital shame of discovery. M. Beaucaire remarked, indicating the silent
figures by a polite wave of the hand, "Is it not a compliment to monsieur
that I procure six large men to subdue him? They are quite devote' to me,
and monsieur is alone. Could it be that he did not wish even his lackeys
to know he play with the yo'ng Frenchman who Meestaire Nash does not
like in the pomp-room? Monsieur is unfortunate to have come on foot and
alone to my apartment."
The Duke's mouth foamed over with chaotic revilement. His captor
smiled brightly, and made a slight gesture, as one who brushes aside a
boisterous insect. With the same motion he quelled to stony quiet a
resentful impetus of his servants toward the Englishman.
"It's murder, is it, you carrion!" finished the Duke.
M. Beaucaire lifted his shoulders in a mock shiver. "What words! No,
no, no! No killing! A such word to a such host! No, no, not mur-r-der;
only disgrace!" He laughed a clear, light laugh with a rising inflection,
seeming to launch himself upon an adventurous quest for sympathy.
"You little devilish scullion!" spat out the Duke.
Monsieur Beaucaire
3
"Tut, tut! But I forget. Monsieur has pursue' his studies of
deportment amongs' his fellow-countrymen.
"Do you dream a soul in Bath will take your word that I - that I - "
"That M. le Duc de Winterset had a card up his sleeve?"
"You pitiful stroller, you stableboy, born in a stable - "
"Is it not an honor to be born where monsieur must have been bred?"
"You scurvy foot-boy, you greasy barber, you cutthroat groom - "
"Overwhelm'!" The young man bowed with imperturbable elation.
"M. le Duc appoint' me to all the office' of his househol'."
"You mustachioed fool, there are not five people of quality in Bath
will speak to you - "
"No, monsieur, not on the parade; but how many come to play with me
here? Because I will play always, night or day, for what one will, for any
long, and al - ways fair, monsieur."
"You outrageous varlet! Every one knows you came to England as
the French Ambassador's barber. What man of fashion will listen to you?
Who will believe you?"
"All people, monsieur. Do you think I have not calculate', that I shall
make a failure of my little enterprise?"
"Bah!"
"Will monsieur not reseat himself?" M. Beaucaire made a low bow.
"So. We must not be too tire' for Lady Malbourne's rout. Ha, ha! And
you, Jean, Victor, and you others, retire; go in the hallway. Attend at the
entrance, Francois. So; now we shall talk. Monsieur, I wish you to
think very cool. Then listen; I will be briefly. It is that I am well known
to be all, entire' hones'. Gamblist? Ah, yes; true and mos profitable; but
fair, al - ways fair; every one say that. Is it not so? Think of it. And -
is there never a w'isper come to M. le Duc that not all people belief him to
play al - ways hones'? Ha, ha! Did it almos' be said to him las' year,
after when he play' with Milor' Tappin'ford at the chocolate-house - "
"You dirty scandal-monger!" the Duke burst out. "I'll - "
"Monsieur, monsieur!" said the Frenchman. "It is a poor valor to
insult a helpless captor. Can he retort upon his own victim? But it is
Monsieur Beaucaire
4
for you to think of what I say. True, I am not reco'nize on the parade;
that my frien's who come here do not present me to their ladies; that
Meestaire Nash has reboff' me in the pomp-room; still, am I not known for
being hones' and fair in my play, and will I not be belief, even I, when I lif'
my voice and charge you aloud with what is already w'isper'? Think of it!
You are a noble, and there will be some hang-dogs who might not fall
away from you. Only such would be lef' to you. Do you want it tol'?
And you can keep out of France, monsieur? I have lef' his service, but I
have still the ear of M. de Mirepoix, and he know' I never lie. Not a
gentleman will play you when you come to Paris."
The Englishman's white lip showed a row of scarlet dots upon it.
"How much do you want?" he said.
The room rang with the gay laughter of Beaucaire. "I hol' your note'
for seven-hunder' pound'. You can have them, monsieur. Why does a
such great man come to play M. Beaucaire? Because no one else willin'
to play M. le Duc - he cannot pay. Ha, ha! So he come' to good
Monsieur Beaucaire. Money, ha, ha! What I want with money?"
His Grace of Winterset's features were set awry to a sinister pattern.
He sat glaring at his companion in a snarling silence.
"Money? Pouf!" snapped the little gambler. "No, no, no! It is that
M. le Duc, impoverish', somewhat in a bad odor as he is, yet command the
entree any-where - onless I - Ha, ha! Eh, monsieur?"
"Ha! You dare think to force me - "
M. Beaucaire twirled the tip of his slender mustache around the end of
his white forefinger. Then he said: "Monsieur and me goin' to Lady
Malbourne's ball to-night - M. le Duc and me!"
The Englishman roared, "Curse your impudence!"
"Sit quiet. Oh, yes, that's all; we goin' together."
"No!"
"Certain. I make all my little plan'. 'Tis all arrange'." He paused,
and then said gravely, "You goin' present me to Lady Mary Carlisle."
The other laughed in utter scorn. "Lady Mary Carlisle, of all women
alive, would be the first to prefer the devil to a man of no birth, barber."
Monsieur Beaucaire
5
"'Tis all arrange'; have no fear; nobody question monsieur's You goin'
take me to-night - " "No!"
"Yes. And after - then I have the entree. Is it much I ask? This one
little favor, and I never w'isper, never breathe that - it is to say, I am
always forever silent of monsieur's misfortune."
"You have the entree!" sneered the other. "Go to a lackeys' rout and
dance with the kitchen maids. If I would, I could not present you to Bath
society. I should have cartels from the fathers, brothers, and lovers of
every wench and madam in the place, even I. You would be thrust from
Lady Malbourne's door five minutes after you entered it."
"No, no, no!"
"Half the gentlemen in Bath have been here to play. They would
know you, wouldn't they, fool? You've had thousands out of Bantison,
Rakell, Guilford, and Townbrake. They would have you lashed by the
grooms as your ugly deserts are. You to speak to Lady Mary Carlisle!
'Od's blood! You! Also, dolt, she would know you if you escaped the
others. She stood within a yard of you when Nash expelled you the
pump-room."
M. Beaucaire flushed slightly. "You think I did not see?" he asked.
"Do you dream that' because Winterset introduces a low fellow he will
be tolerated - that Bath will receive a barber?"
"I have the distinction to call monsieur's attention," replied the young
man gayly, "I have renounce that profession."
"Fool!"
"I am now a man of honor!"
"Faugh!"
"A man of the parts," continued the the young Frenchman, "and of
deportment; is it not so? Have you seen me of a fluster, or gross ever, or,
what sall I say - bourgeois? Shall you be shame' for your guest' manner?
No, no! And my appearance, is it of the people? Clearly, no. Do I not
compare in taste of apparel with your yo'ng Englishman? Ha, ha! To be
hope'. Ha, ha! So I am goin' talk with Lady Mary Carlisle."
"Bah!" The Duke made a savage burlesque. "'Lady Mary Carlisle,
Monsieur Beaucaire
6
may I assume the honor of presenting the barber of the Marquis de
Mirepoix?' So, is it?"
"No, monsieur," smiled the young man. "Quite not so. You shall
have nothing to worry you, nothing in the worl'. I am goin' to assassinate
my poor mustachio - also remove this horrible black peruke, and emerge
in my own hair. Behol'!" He swept the heavy curled, mass from his
head as he spoke, and his hair, coiled under the great wig, fell to his
shoulders, and sparkled yellow in the candle-light. He tossed his head to
shake the hair back from his cheeks. "When it is dress', I am transform
nobody can know me; you shall observe. See how little I ask of you,
how very little bit. No one shall reco'nize 'M. Beaucaire' or 'Victor.' Ha,
ha! 'Tis all arrange'; you have nothing to fear."
"Curse you," said the Duke, "do you think I'm going to be saddled
with you wherever I go as long as you choose?"
"A mistake. No. All I requi - All I beg - is this one evening. 'Tis
all shall be necessary. After, I shall not need monsieur.
"Take heed to yourself - after!" vouchsafed the Englishman between
his teeth.
"Conquered!" cried M. Beaucaire, and clapped his hands gleefully.
"Conquered for the night! Aha, it ts riz'nable! I shall meet what you
send - after. One cannot hope too much of your patience. It is but
natural you should attemp' a little avengement for the rascal trap I was
such a wicked fellow as to set for you. I shall meet some strange frien's
of yours after to-night; not so? I must try to be not too much frighten'."
He looked at the Duke curiously. "You want to know why I create this
tragedy, why I am so unkind as to entrap monsieur?" His Grace of
Winterset replied with a chill glance; a pulse in the nobleman's cheek beat
less relentlessly; his eye raged not so bitterly; the steady purple of his own
color was returning; his voice was less hoarse; he was regaining his habit.
"'Tis ever the manner of the vulgar," he observed, "to wish to be seen with
people of fashion."
"Oh, no, no, no!" The Frenchman laughed. "'Tis not that. Am I not
already one of these 'men of fashion'? I lack only the reputation of birth.
Monsieur Beaucaire
7
Monsieur is goin' supply that. Ha, ha! I shall be noble from to-night.
'Victor,' the artis', is condemn' to death; his throat shall be cut with his own
razor. 'M. Beaucaire - ' Here the young man sprang to his feet, caught
up the black wig, clapped into it a dice-box from the table, and hurled it
violently through the open door. "'M. Beaucaire' shall be choke' with his
own dice-box. Who is the Phoenix to remain? What advantage have I
not over other men of rank who are merely born to it? I may choose my
own. No! Choose for me, monsieur. Shall I be chevalier, comte,
vicomte, marquis, what? None. Out of compliment to monsieur can I
wish to be anything he is not? No, no! I shall be M. le Duc, M. le Duc
de - de Chateaurien. Ha, ha! You see? You are my confrere."
M. Beaucaire trod a dainty step or two, waving his hand politely to the
Duke, as though in invitation to join the celebration of his rank. The
Englishman watched, his eye still and harsh, already gathering in
craftiness. Beaucaire stopped suddenly. "But how I forget my age! I
am twenty-three," he said, with a sigh. "I rejoice too much to be of the
quality. It has been too great for me, and I had always belief' myself free
of such ambition. I thought it was enough to behol' the opera without
wishing to sing; but no, England have teach' me I have those vulgar desire'.
Monsieur, I am goin' tell you a secret: the ladies of your country are very
diff'runt than ours. One may adore the demoiselle, one must worship the
lady of England. Our ladies have the - it is the beauty of youth; yours
remain comely at thirty. Ours are flowers, yours are stars! See, I betray
myself, I am so poor a patriot. And there is one among these stars - ah, yes,
there is one - the poor Frenchman has observe' from his humble distance;
even there he could bask in the glowing!" M. Beaucaire turned to the
window, and looked out into the dark. He did not see the lights of the
town. When he turned again, he had half forgotten his prisoner; other
pictures were before him.
"Ah, what radiance!" he cried. "Those people up over the sky, they
want to show they wish the earth to be happy, so they smile, and make this
lady. Gold-haired, an angel of heaven, and yet a Diana of the chase! I
see her fly by me on her great horse one day; she touch' his mane with her
Monsieur Beaucaire
8
fingers. I buy that clipping from the groom. I have it here with my dear
brother's picture. Ah, you! Oh, yes, you laugh! What do you know!
'Twas all I could get. But I have heard of the endeavor of M. le Duc to
recoup his fortunes. This alliance shall fail. It is not the way - that
heritage shall be safe' from him! It is you and me, monsieur! You can
laugh! The war is open', and by me! There is one great step taken: until
to-night there was nothing for you to ruin, to-morrow you have got a noble
of France - your own protege - to besiege and sack. And you are to lose,
because you think such ruin easy, and because you understand nothing -
far less - of divinity. How could you know? You have not the fiber; the
heart of a lady is a blank to you; you know nothing of the vibration.
There are some words that were made only to tell of Lady Mary, for her
alone - bellissima, divine, glorieuse! Ah, how I have watch' her! It is
sad to me when I see her surround' by your yo'ng captains, your nobles,
your rattles, your beaux - ha, ha! - and I mus' hol' far aloof. It is sad for
me - but oh, jus' to watch her and to wonder! Strange it is, but I have
almos' cry out with rapture at a look I have see' her give another man, so
beautiful it was, so tender, so dazzling of the eyes and so mirthful of the
lips. Ah, divine coquetry! A look for another, ah-i -me! for many
others; and even to you, one day, a rose, while I - I, monsieur, could not
even be so blessed as to be the groun' beneath her little shoe! But to-
night, monsieur - ha, ha! - to-night, monsieur, you and me, two princes,
M. le Duc de Winterset and M. le Duc de Chateaurien - ha, ha! you see ?
- we are goin' arm-in-arm to that ball, and I am goin' have one of those
looks, I! And a rose! I! It is time. But ten minute', nonsieur. I make
my apology to keep you waitin' so long while I go in the nex' room and
execute my poor mustachio - that will be my only murder for jus' this one
evening - and inves' myself in white satin. Ha, ha! I shall be very gran',
monsieur. Francois, send Louis to me; Victor, to order two chairs for
monsieur and me; we are goin' out in the worl' to-right!"
Monsieur Beaucaire
9
Chapter Two
The chairmen swarmed in the street at Lady Malbourne's door, where
the joyous vulgar fought with muddied footmen and tipsy link-boys for
places of vantage whence to catch a glimpse of quality and of raiment at
its utmost. Dawn was in the east, and the guests were departing. Singly
or in pairs, glittering in finery, they came mincing down the steps, the
ghost of the night's smirk fading to jadedness as they sought the dark
recesses of their chairs. From within sounded the twang of fiddles still
swinging manfully at it, and the windows were bright with the light of
many candles. When the door was flung open to call the chair of Lady
Mary Carlisle, there was an eager pressure of the throng to see.
A small, fair gentleman in white satin came out upon the steps, turned
and bowed before a lady who appeared in the doorway, a lady whose royal
loveliness was given to view for a moment in that glowing frame. The
crowd sent up a hearty English cheer for the Beauty of Bath.
The gentleman smiled upon them delightedly. "What enchanting
peopie!" he cried. "Why did I not know, so I might have shout' with
them?" The lady noticed the people not at all; whereat, being pleased,
the people cheered again. The gentleman offered her his hand; she made
a slow courtesy; placed the tips of her fingers upon his own. "I am
honored, M. de Chateaurien," she said.
"No, no!" he cried earnestly. "Behol' a poor Frenchman whom
emperors should envy." Then reverently and with the pride of his gallant
office vibrant in every line of his slight figure, invested in white satin and
very grand, as he had prophesied, M. le Duc de Chateaurien handed Lady
Mary Carlisle down the steps, an achievement which had figured in the
ambitions of seven other gentlemen during the evening.
"Am I to be lef'in such onhappiness?" he said in a low voice. "That
rose I have beg' for so long - "
"Never!" said Lady Mary.
"Ah, I do not deserve it, I know so well! But - "
Monsieur Beaucaire
10
"Never!"
"It is the greatness of my onworthiness that alone can claim your
charity; let your kin' heart give this little red rose, this great alms, to the
poor beggar."
"Never!"
She was seated in the chair. "Ah, give the rose," he whispered. Her
beauty shone dazzlingly on him out of the dimness.
"Never!" she flashed defiantly as she was closed in. "Never!"
"Never!"
The rose fell at his feet.
"A rose lasts till morning," said a voice behind him.
Turning, M. de Chateaurien looked beamingly upon the face of the
Duke of Winterset.
"'Tis already the daylight," he replied, pointing to the east. "Monsieur,
was it not enough honor for you to han' out madame, the aunt of Lady
Mary? Lady Rellerton retain much trace of beauty. 'Tis strange you did
not appear more happy." "The rose is of an unlucky color, I think,"
observed the Duke.
"The color of a blush, my brother."
"Unlucky, I still maintain," said the other calmly.
"The color of the veins of a Frenchman. Ha, ha!" cried the young
man. "What price would be too high? A rose is a rose! A good-night,
my brother, a good-night. I wish you dreams of roses, red roses, only
beautiful red, red roses!"
"Stay! Did you see the look she gave these street folk when they
shouted for her? And how are you higher than they, when she knows? As
high as yonder horse-boy!"
"Red roses, my brother, only roses. I wish you dreams of red, red
roses!"
Monsieur Beaucaire
11
Chapter Three
It was well agreed by the fashion of Bath that M. le Duc de
Chateaurien was a person of sensibility and haut ton; that his retinue and
equipage surpassed in elegance; that his person was exquisite, his manner
engaging. In the company of gentlemen his ease was slightly tinged with
graciousness (his single equal in Bath being his Grace of Winterset); but it
was remarked that when he bowed over a lady's hand, his air bespoke only
a gay and tender reverence.
He was the idol of the dowagers within a week after his appearance;
matrons warmed to him; young belles looked sweetly on him, while the
gentlemen were won to admiration or envy. He was of prodigious wealth:
old Mr. Bicksit, who dared not, for his fame's sake, fail to have seen all
things, had visited Chateaurien under the present Duke's father, and
descanted to the curious upon its grandeurs. The young noble had one
fault, he was so poor a gambler. He cared nothing for the hazards of a
die or the turn of a card. Gayly admitting that he had been born with no
spirit of adventure in him, he was sure, he declared, that he failed of much
happiness by his lack of taste in such matters.
But he was not long wanting the occasion to prove his taste in the
matter of handling a weapon. A certain led-captain, Rohrer by name,
notorious, amongst other things, for bearing a dexterous and bloodthirsty
blade, came to Bath post-haste, one night, and jostled heartily against him,
in the pump-room on the following morning. M. de Chauteaurien bowed,
and turned aside without offense, continuing a conversation with some
gentlemen near by. Captain Rohrer jostled against him a second time.
M. de Ch