The Young Seigneur | Page 3

and each jaunty
Telesphore and Jacques, the driver of a horse, leaps jovially into his
cart; but all the carts are halting a moment by some curious common
accord. Why is this?
Suddenly a loud voice shouts:
"MALBROUCK IS DEAD!"
A pause follows.
"It is not true" one forcibly contradicts.

"Yes, he is dead!" reiterates the first.
"It is not true!" insists the other.
"He is dead and in his bier!"
The second is incredulous:
"You but tell me that to jeer?"
But the crowd who have been smiling gleefully over the proceedings,
affect to resign themselves to the bad news of Malbrouck's death, and
all altogether groan in hoarse bass mockery:
"ÇA VA MA-A-A-L!!"[B]
Every one immediately dashes off in all haste, whips crack, wheels fly,
and shouting, racing and singing along all the roads, the country-folk
rattle away to their homes. Our two turn their wheels towards the
Manor-house, gleefully amused.
[Footnote B: That is bad!]
"Who is Malbrouck?" Chrysler enquired.
"Marlborough. That must have been originally enacted in the French
camps that fought him in Flanders. I fancy the soldiers of Montcalm
shouting it at night among their tents here as they held the country
against the English."
They drove along looking about the country and conversing. Chrysler
breathed in the fresh draughts which swept across the wide stretches of
river-view that lay open in bird-like perspective from the crest of the
terraces on which the Dormillière côte, or countryside, was perched,
and along which the road ran.
"Come up, my little buds!" the young man cried in French, to a pair of
baby girls who, holding each others' hands, were crowding on the edge
of the ditch-weeds, out of the wheels' way.

"Houp-la!" he cried, helping the laughing little things up one after the
other by their hands, and then whipping forward. "How much, are you
going to give me for this? Do you think we drive people for nothing,
eh?" The children nestled themselves down with beaming faces. "Tell
me, bidoux,"[C] he laughed again, "What are you going to give me?"
[Footnote C: Bidoux is a term of endearment for children.]
Both hung their heads. One of them quickly threw her arms up around
his neck and, kissing him, said, "I will pay you this way," and the other
began to follow suit.
"Stop, stop, my dears. You must not stifle your seigneur," he cried in
the highest glee, returning their embraces.
One of our poets claims that there is something of earthliness in the
kisses of all but children:--
"But in a little child's warm kiss Is naught but heaven above, So sweet
it is, so pure it is, So full of faith and love."
So it seemed to Chrysler as he saw this first of the relations between the
young Seigneur and his people.
CHAPTER III.
HAVILAND'S IDEA.
"GRAND MASTER.--O, if you knew what our astrologers say of the
coming age and of our age, that has in it more history within a hundred
years than all the world had in four thousand years before."
--CAMPANELLA--The City of the Sun.
When they arrived before the Manor House front, Mr. Chrysler could
almost believe himself in some ancestral place in Europe, the pinnacles
clustered with such a tranquil grace and the walk of pines surrounding
the place seemed to frown with such cool, dark shades.

Within, he found it a comfortable mingling of ancient family portraits
and hanging swords strung around the walls, elaborate, ornate old
mantel ornaments, an immense carved fireplace, and such modern
conveniences as Eastlake Cabinets, student's lamps and electric bell. In
a distant corner of the large united dining and drawing-room, the
evidently favorite object was a full-size cast of the Apollo Belvedere.
Chamilly introduced him respectfully to his grandmother, Madame
Bois-Hébert, an aged, quiet lady, with dark eyes.
In the expressive face of the young man could be traced a resemblance
to hers, and the grace of form and movement which his firmer limbs
and greater activity gave him, were evidently something like what the
dignity of mien and carriage that were still left her by age had once
been.
He was tall and had a handsome make, and kindly, generous face. The
features of his countenance were marked ones, denoting clear
intelligent opinions; and his hair, moustache and young beard, of jet
black, contrasted well with the color which enriched his brunet cheek.
Whether it was due to a happy chance or to the surroundings of his life,
or whether descent from superior races has something in it, existence
had been generous to him in attractions.
When Madame withdrew, after the tea, he gave Mr. Chrysler a chair by
the fireplace in the drawing-room end of the apartment, for it was a
cool evening, and saying:--"Do you mind this? It is