XX

The Baron called two gardener lads who knew how to row, and took with

him his prime minister Modinier. The lake was about six acres in

breadth, in some places ten or twelve, and four hundred in length.

Rosalie soon found herself at the upper end shut in by the Dent de

Vilard, the Jungfrau of that little Switzerland.

"Here we are, Monsieur le Baron," said Modinier, signing to the

gardeners to tie up the boat; "will you come and look?"

"Look at what?" asked Rosalie.

"Oh, nothing!" exclaimed the Baron. "But you are a sensible girl; we

have some little secrets between us, and I may tell you what ruffles

my mind. Some difficulties have arisen since 1830 between the village

authorities of Riceys and me, on account of this very Dent de Vilard,

and I want to settle the matter without your mother's knowing anything

about it, for she is stubborn; she is capable of flinging fire and

flames broadcast, particularly if she should hear that the Mayor of

Riceys, a republican, got up this action as a sop to his people."

Rosalie had presence of mind enough to disguise her delight, so as to

work more effectually on her father.

"What action?" said she.

"Mademoiselle, the people of Riceys," said Modinier, "have long

enjoyed the right of grazing and cutting fodder on their side of the

Dent de Vilard. Now Monsieur Chantonnit, the Maire since 1830,

declares that the whole Dent belongs to his district, and maintains

that a hundred years ago, or more, there was a way through our

grounds. You understand that in that case we should no longer have

them to ourselves. Then this barbarian would end by saying, what the

old men in the village say, that the ground occupied by the lake was

appropriated by the Abbe de Watteville. That would be the end of les

Rouxey; what next?"

"Indeed, my child, between ourselves, it is the truth," said Monsieur

de Watteville simply. "The land is an usurpation, with no title-deed

but lapse of time. And, therefore, to avoid all worry, I should wish

to come to a friendly understanding as to my border line on this side

of the Dent de Vilard, and I will then raise a wall."

"If you give way to the municipality, it will swallow you up. You

ought to have threatened Riceys."

"That is just what I told the master last evening," said Modinier.

"But in confirmation of that view I proposed that he should come to

see whether, on this side of the Dent or on the other, there may not

be, high or low, some traces of an enclosure."

For a century the Dent de Vilard had been used by both parties without

coming to extremities; it stood as a sort of party wall between the

communes of Riceys and les Rouxey, yielding little profit. Indeed, the

object in dispute, being covered with snow for six months in the year,

was of a nature to cool their ardor. Thus it required all the hot

blast by which the revolution of 1830 inflamed the advocates of the

people, to stir up this matter, by which Monsieur Chantonnit, the

Maire of Riceys, hoped to give a dramatic turn to his career on the

peaceful frontier of Switzerland, and to immortalize his term of

office. Chantonnit, as his name shows, was a native of Neuchatel.

"My dear father," said Rosalie, as they got into the boat again, "I

agree with Modinier. If you wish to secure the joint possession of the

Dent de Vilard, you must act with decision, and get a legal opinion

which will protect you against this enterprising Chantonnit. Why

should you be afraid? Get the famous lawyer Savaron--engage him at

once, lest Chantonnit should place the interests of the village in his

hands. The man who won the case for the Chapter against the town can

certainly win that of Watteville /versus/ Riceys! Besides," she added,

"les Rouxey will some day be mine--not for a long time yet, I trust.--

Well, then do not leave me with a lawsuit on my hands. I like this

place, I shall often live here, and add to it as much as possible. On

those banks," and she pointed to the feet of the two hills, "I shall

cut flowerbeds and make the loveliest English gardens. Let us go to

Besancon and bring back with us the Abbe de Grancey, Monsieur Savaron,

and my mother, if she cares to come. You can then make up your mind;

but in your place I should have done so already. Your name is

Watteville, and you are afraid of a fight! If you should lose your

case--well, I will never reproach you by a word!"

"Oh, if that is the way you take it," said the Baron, "I am quite

ready; I will see the lawyer."

"Besides a lawsuit is really great fun. It brings some interest into

life, with coming and going and raging over it. You will have a great

deal to do before you can get hold of the judges.--We did not see the

Abbe de Grancey for three weeks, he was so busy!"

"But the very existence of the Chapter was involved," said Monsieur de

Watteville; "and then the Archbishop's pride, his conscience,

everything that makes up the life of the priesthood, was at stake.

That Savaron does not know what he did for the Chapter! He saved it!"

"Listen to me," said his daughter in his ear, "if you secure Monsieur

de Savaron, you will gain your suit, won't you? Well, then, let me

advise you. You cannot get at Monsieur Savaron excepting through

Monsieur de Grancey. Take my word for it, and let us together talk to

the dear Abbe without my mother's presence at the interview, for I

know a way of persuading him to bring the lawyer to us."

"It will be very difficult to avoid mentioning it to your mother!"

"The Abbe de Grancey will settle that afterwards. But just make up

your mind to promise your vote to Monsieur Savaron at the next

election, and you will see!"

"Go to the election! take the oath?" cried the Baron de Watteville.

"What then!" said she.

"And what will your mother say?"

"She may even desire you to do it," replied Rosalie, knowing as she

did from Albert's letter to Leopold how deeply the Vicar-General had

pledged himself.

Four days after, the Abbe de Grancey called very early one morning on

Albert de Savarus, having announced his visit the day before. The old

priest had come to win over the great lawyer to the house of the

Wattevilles, a proceeding which shows how much tact and subtlety

Rosalie must have employed in an underhand way.

"What can I do for you, Monsieur le Vicaire-General?" asked Savarus.

The Abbe, who told his story with admirable frankness, was coldly

heard by Albert.

"Monsieur l'Abbe," said he, "it is out of the question that I should

defend the interests of the Wattevilles, and you shall understand why.

My part in this town is to remain perfectly neutral. I will display no

colors; I must remain a mystery till the eve of my election. Now, to

plead for the Wattevilles would mean nothing in Paris, but here!--

Here, where everything is discussed, I should be supposed by every one

to be an ally of your Faubourg Saint-Germain."

"What! do you suppose that you can remain unknown on the day of the

election, when the candidates must oppose each other? It must then

become known that your name is Savaron de Savarus, that you have held

the appointment of Master of Appeals, that you are a man of the

Restoration!"

"On the day of the election," said Savarus, "I will be all I am

expected to be; and I intend to speak at the preliminary meetings."

"If you have the support of Monsieur de Watteville and his party, you

will get a hundred votes in a mass, and far more to be trusted than

those on which you rely. It is always possible to produce division of

interests; convictions are inseparable."

"The deuce is in it!" said Savarus. "I am attached to you, and I could

do a great deal for you, Father! Perhaps we may compound with the

Devil. Whatever Monsieur de Watteville's business may be, by engaging

Girardet, and prompting him, it will be possible to drag the

proceedings out till the elections are over. I will not undertake to

plead till the day after I am returned."

"Do this one thing," said the Abbe. "Come to the Hotel de Rupt: there

is a young person of nineteen there who, one of these days, will have

a hundred thousand francs a year, and you can seem to be paying your

court to her--"

"Ah! the young lady I sometimes see in the kiosk?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle Rosalie," replied the Abbe de Grancey. "You are

ambitious. If she takes a fancy to you, you may be everything an

ambitious man can wish--who knows? A Minister perhaps. A man can

always be a Minister who adds a hundred thousand francs a year to your

amazing talents."

"Monsieur l'Abbe, if Mademoiselle de Watteville had three times her

fortune, and adored me into the bargain, it would be impossible that I

should marry her--"

"You are married?" exclaimed the Abbe.

"Not in church nor before the Maire, but morally speaking," said

Savarus.

"That is even worse when a man cares about it as you seem to care,"

replied the Abbe. "Everything that is not done, can be undone. Do not

stake your fortune and your prospects on a woman's liking, any more

than a wise man counts on a dead man's shoes before starting on his

way."

"Let us say no more about Mademoiselle de Watteville," said Albert

gravely, "and agree as to the facts. At your desire--for I have a

regard and respect for you--I will appear for Monsieur de Watteville,

but after the elections. Until then Girardet must conduct the case

under my instructions. That is the most I can do."

"But there are questions involved which can only be settled after

inspection of the localities," said the Vicar-General.

"Girardet can go," said Savarus. "I cannot allow myself, in the face

of a town I know so well, to take any step which might compromise the

supreme interests that lie beyond my election."

The Abbe left Savarus after giving him a keen look, in which he seemed

to be laughing at the young athlete's uncompromising politics, while

admiring his firmness.

"Ah! I would have dragged my father into a lawsuit--I would have done

anything to get him here!" cried Rosalie to herself, standing in the

kiosk and looking at the lawyer in his room, the day after Albert's

interview with the Abbe, who had reported the result to her father. "I

would have committed any mortal sin, and you will not enter the

Wattevilles' drawing-room; I may not hear your fine voice! You make

conditions when your help is required by the Wattevilles and the

Rupts!--Well, God knows, I meant to be content with these small joys;

with seeing you, hearing you speak, going with you to les Rouxey, that

your presence might to me make the place sacred. That was all I asked.

But now--now I mean to be your wife.--Yes, yes; look at /her/

portrait, at /her/ drawing-room, /her/ bedroom, at the four sides of

/her/ villa, the points of view from /her/ gardens. You expect her

statue? I will make her marble herself towards you!--After all, the

woman does not love. Art, science, books, singing, music, have

absorbed half her senses and her intelligence. She is old, too; she is

past thirty; my Albert will not be happy!"

"What is the matter that you stay here, Rosalie?" asked her mother,

interrupting her reflections. "Monsieur de Soulas is in the drawing-

room, and he observed your attitude, which certainly betrays more

thoughtfulness than is due at your age."

"Then, is Monsieur de Soulas a foe to thought?" asked Rosalie.

"Then you were thinking?" said Madame de Watteville.

"Why, yes, mamma."

"Why, no! you were not thinking. You were staring at that lawyer's

window with an attention that is neither becoming, nor decent, and

which Monsieur de Soulas, of all men, ought never to have observed."

"Why?" said Rosalie.

"It is time," said the Baroness, "that you should know what our

intentions are. Amedee likes you, and you will not be unhappy as

Comtesse de Soulas."