Pride: One of the Seven Cardinal Sins. Эжен Сю
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the way, what has become of that scoundrel, Macreuse, who used to play the spy on us at college? You remember him?—a big, light-haired fellow, who used to cuff us soundly as he passed, just because he dared to, being twice as big as we were."
At the name of Macreuse, Gerald's face took on an expression of mingled contempt and aversion, and he replied:
"You speak rather slightingly—M. Célestin de Macreuse, it seems to me."
"De Macreuse!" cried Olivier. "He must have treated himself to the de since we knew him, then. In those days his origin was shrouded in mystery. Nobody knew anything about his parents. He was so poor that he once ate half a dozen wood-lice to earn a sou."
"And then he was so horribly cruel," added Gerald; "do you remember his putting those little birds' eyes out with a pin to see if they would fly afterwards?"
"The scoundrel!" exclaimed the indignant commander. "Such a man as that ought to be flayed alive."
"It would rejoice my heart to see your prediction fulfilled, commander," said Gerald, laughing. Then, turning to Olivier, he continued: "It will surprise you very much, I think, when I tell you what I know of M. Célestin de Macreuse. I have told you, I believe, how very exclusive the society is in which my mother has always moved, so you can judge of my astonishment when one evening, shortly after my return to Paris, I heard the name of M. de Macreuse announced in my mother's drawing-room. It was the very man. I had retained such an unpleasant recollection of the fellow, that I went to my mother and said:
"'Why do you receive that man who just spoke to you—that big, light-haired, sallow man?'
"'Why, that is M. de Macreuse,' my mother replied, in tones indicative of the profoundest respect.
"'And who is M. de Macreuse, my dear mother? I never saw him in your house before.'
"'No, for he has just returned from his travels,' she answered. 'He is a very distinguished and highly exemplary young man—the founder of the St. Polycarpe Mission.'
"'The deuce! And what is the St. Polycarpe Mission, my dear mother?'
"'It is a society that strives to make the poor resigned to their misery by teaching them that the more they suffer here, the happier they will be hereafter.'
"'Se non è vero, è ben trovato,' I laughingly remarked. 'But it seems to me that this fellow has a very plump face to be advocating the good effects of starvation.'
"'My son, I meant every word that I just said to you,' replied my mother, gravely. 'Many highly esteemed persons have connected themselves with M. de Macreuse's work—a work to which he devotes himself with truly evangelical zeal. But here he comes. I would like to introduce you to him.'
"'Pray do nothing of the kind, mother,' I retorted, quickly. 'I am sure to be impolite; I do not like the gentleman's looks; besides, what I already know of him makes my antipathy to his acquaintance insurmountable. We were at college together, and—'
"But I was unable to say any more; Macreuse was now close to my mother, and I was standing beside her. 'My dear M. de Macreuse,' she said to her protégé, in the most amiable manner, after casting a withering look at me, 'I wish to introduce my son, one of your former classmates, who will be charmed to renew his acquaintance with you.'
"Macreuse bowed profoundly, then said, in a rather condescending way, 'I have been absent from Paris some time, monsieur, and was consequently ignorant of your return to France, so I did not expect to have the honour of meeting you at your mother's house this evening. We were at college together, and—'
"'That is true,' I interrupted, 'and I recollect perfectly well how you played the spy on us to ingratiate yourself with the teachers; how you would stoop to any dirty trick to make a penny; and how you put out the eyes of little birds with pins. Possibly this last was in the charitable hope that their sufferings here would profit them hereafter.'"
"A clever thrust that!" exclaimed the commander, with a hearty laugh.
"And what did Macreuse say?" asked Olivier.
"The scoundrel's big moon face turned scarlet. He tried to smile and stammer out a few words, but suddenly my mother, looking at me with a reproachful air, rose, and to rescue our friend from his embarrassment, I suppose, said, 'M. de Macreuse, may I ask you to take me to get a cup of tea?'"
"But how did this man gain an entrance into such an exclusive circle as that of the Faubourg St. Germain?" inquired Olivier.
"Nobody knows exactly," replied Gerald. "This much is true, however. If one door in our circle opens, all the others soon do the same. But this first door is hard to open, and who opened it for Macreuse nobody knows, though some persons seem to think that it was Abbé Ledoux, a favourite spiritual director in our set. This seems quite probable, and I have taken almost as strong a dislike to the abbé as to Macreuse. If this dislike needed any justification, it would have it, so far as I am concerned, in the estimate of Macreuse's character formed by a singular man who is rarely deceived in his judgment of persons."
"And who is this infallible man, pray?" inquired Olivier, smiling.
"A hunchback no taller than that," replied Gerald, indicating with his hand a height of about four and a half feet.
"A hunchback?" repeated Olivier, greatly surprised.
"Yes, a hunchback, as quick-witted and determined as his satanic majesty himself—stiff as an iron bar to those whom he dislikes and despises, but full of affection and devotion to those whom he honours—though such persons, I am forced to admit, are rare—and never making the slightest attempt to conceal from any individual the liking or aversion he or she inspires."
"It is fortunate for him that his infirmity gives him this privilege of plain speaking," remarked the commander. "But for that, your hunchback would be likely to have a hard time of it."
"His infirmity?" said Gerald, laughing. "Though a hunchback, the Marquis de Maillefort is, I assure you—"
"He is a marquis?" interrupted Olivier.
"Yes, a marquis, and an aristocrat of the old school. He is a scion of the ducal house of Haut-martel, the head of which has resided in Germany since 1830. But though he is a hunchback, M. de Maillefort, as I was about to remark before, is as alert and vigorous as any young man, in spite of his forty-five years. And, by the way, you and I consider ourselves pretty good swordsmen, do we not?"
"Well, yes."
"Very well; the marquis could touch us eight times out of twelve. He rivals the incomparable Bertrand. His movements are as light as a bird's, and as swift as lightning itself."
"This brave little hunchback interests me very much," said the veteran. "If he has fought any duels his adversaries must have cut strange figures."
"The marquis has fought several duels, in all of which he evinced the greatest coolness and courage, at least so my father, who was a personal friend of the marquis, once told me."
"And he goes into society in spite of his infirmity?" inquired Olivier.
"Sometimes he frequents it assiduously; then absents himself for months at a time. His is a very peculiar nature. My father told me that for many years the marquis seemed to be in a state of profound melancholy, but I have never seen him other than gay and amusing."
"But with his courage, his skill in the use of weapons, and his quick wit, he is certainly a man to be feared."
"Yes, and you can easily imagine how greatly his presence disquiets certain persons whom society continues to receive on account of their birth, in spite of their notorious villainies. Macreuse, for instance, as soon as he sees the marquis enter by one door, makes his escape by another."
The conversation was here interrupted by an incident which would have been unworthy even of comment in some parts of the town, but rare enough in the Batignolles.
The arbour in which the little party had dined skirted the garden wall, and at the farther