'Gloria Victis!' A Romance. Ossip Schubin
then turning for the last time to Truyn, she said, "I have communicated to you Capriani's proposal."
"And you are at liberty to tell him how I received it," Truyn replied stiffly.
"J'arrangerai un peu," the baroness said as she rose, "do not disturb the young people, I will slip out on tiptoe. Adieu." And with a courteous glance around, she hurried away.
"Well, what do you think?" exclaimed Truyn, as he returned to the drawing-room, after escorting her to the hall. "What do you think, Georges?" and sitting down beside the young man he tapped him on the knee. "Capriani sends that goose Zoë in all seriousness to ask for my daughter's hand for his son. What do you say to that?"
"Audacious enough," said Georges shrugging his shoulders, "but what would you have--'tis a sign of the times!"
This dry way of judging of the matter did not please Truyn at all. "Ossi!" he called.
"What, uncle?" The young people advanced together into the room.
"I have an interesting piece of news for you. A secret agent of the Maison Foy has made a proposal to-day for Ella's hand for Capriani, jr! What do you say to that?"
"Ella's hand for the son of that railway Capriani!" exclaimed Oswald angrily. "Impossible! The secret agent deserves … and he made an expressive motion with his hand. His indignation became him extremely well, and Truyn's glance rested with evident admiration upon the young fellow's athletic figure as he stood with head slightly thrown back, and eyes flashing scornfully.
"Unfortunately it was a lady--Zoë Melkweyser," the elder man explained.
"Then she deserves at least six months of Charenton," said Oswald, "'tis incredible!" and he clinched his hand. "Your daughter, uncle, and the son of the Conte--I suppose he is a Conte--or a Marchese perhaps--Capriani! You know that little orang-outang, Georges?"
"Of course, one meets him everywhere. He addressed me by my first name yesterday," Georges replied calmly. "Ah, my dear friends, you entirely misconceive this extraordinary proposal. For my part, I see in it no personal insult to the Countess Gabrielle, but simply a symptom of an approaching social earthquake. The triumph of the tradesman is manifest everywhere. Zola in his most prominent work has celebrated the apotheosis of the bag-man and the shop-girl; Chapu has designed the façade of the latest millinery establishment; Paris will yet see the Bourse hold its sessions in La Madeleine, and the Bon Marché will set up a branch of its trade in Notre Dame."
"Likely enough," said Truyn with a troubled sigh, "I am only surprised that Capriani has not tried to be President of the French Republic."
"He has not thought the position at present a favourable one for his speculations," said Georges, "but what is not, may be."
"Ah, I am proud of my Austria," said Truyn, suddenly becoming stiff and wooden of aspect. "Such adventurers have at least no position there."
"Do not be too proud of your Austria," rejoined Georges, "I heard something at the embassy to-day that will hardly please you. Id est, Capriani has bought Schneeburg and will be your nearest neighbour in Bohemia."
Truyn started to his feet. "Capriani. … Schneeburg … impossible! How could Malzin bring himself to such a sacrifice!"
"It must have gone hard with the poor fellow, God rest his soul! The night after the contract had been signed he died of apoplexy."
"Good Heavens!" murmured Truyn, pacing restlessly to and fro. "Good Heavens!"
"And there is another interesting piece of news," Georges went on.
"Well?"
"Fritz--do you remember him?"
"Certainly. The only Malzin now left, a very amiable lad who unfortunately made an impossible marriage."
"Yes, he married an actress, and just at the time when every one else was tired of. … "
"Georges!" exclaimed Oswald frowning and glancing towards Gabrielle. He was evidently of the opinion that such things should not be mentioned in the presence of young girls.
"Hm--hm," muttered Georges, "and he has accepted the post of Capriani's private secretary."
"Frightful!" exclaimed Oswald.
"He must have become morally corrupt to some degree, before he could make up his mind to submit to such a humiliation," interposed Truyn indignantly.
"Poor devil!" said Oswald.
"What would you have?" the philosophic Georges remarked and hummed ironically the air of 'Garde la reine.' "Ce n'est pas toujours les mêmes qui ont l'assiette au beurre. I tell you it is all up with us."
All preserved a melancholy silence for a while, then Truyn favoured the party with a few grand political aphorisms, and Oswald at last said to himself perfectly calmly, and as if impromptu, "Gabrielle and Capriani's son!"
The melancholy mood vanished and they talked and laughed so that there was a sound as of merry bells through the silence of the night.
CHAPTER III.
Zoë Melkweyser was an Austrian and a distant relative of Truyn's. Very well-born, but in very narrow pecuniary circumstances, she had grown up on her widowed father's heavily-mortgaged estate, condemned through want of means to a continued residence there, restless as was the temperament with which nature had endowed her. As a school-girl she had no greater pleasure than imaginary journeys from place to place upon the map, and one day she confided to her governess, Mrs. Sidney, under the seal of secrecy, that she would consent to marry any man, even were he a negro, who would promise to indulge her restlessness and allow her to travel to her heart's content.
It was no negro, however, but a banker from Brussels, who finally fulfilled her requirements. She met him at a watering-place, whither she had gone under the chaperonage of a wealthy and compassionate relative. In spite of her thirst for travel she could hardly have made up her mind to marry an Austrian banker, but a Belgian Crœ sus was quite a different affair in her opinion.
All the objections and remonstrances of her aristocratic connections in Austria upon her return thither betrothed, she cut short with, "What would you have? Of course I never should have met him here, but he was received at court in Brussels."
And in fact Baron Alfred Melkweyser was not only received at court in Brussels, but what was still more extraordinary, by the Princess L----, being admitted to the most exclusive Belgian circles, 'among the people whom everyone knows.'
It would have been difficult to find any fault with him except for his brand-new patent of nobility, and Zoë never had any cause to repent her marriage. His manners were perfectly correct, he rode well, had a laudable passion for antiquities, ordered his clothes at Poole's, always used vous in talking with his wife, paid all her bills without even a wry face, patiently travelled with her all over the world, and at her desire removed with her to Paris.
After ten years of childless marriage he died suddenly, of his first and unfortunately unsuccessful attempt to drive four-in-hand. As this, his first ambitious folly, was also his last, society forbore to ridicule it, and even after his death he enjoyed the reputation of an 'homme parfaitement bien.'
His widow bewailed his loss sincerely, and purchased all her mourning of Cyprès at reduced prices. Bargains had always been a passion with her, and scarcely had her year of mourning passed, before, thanks to her expensive taste for cheap, useless articles, she had disposed of half the source of her income. Among other things she purchased at low prices various stocks which turned out badly. She owed her familiarity with financial affairs entirely to her speculative vein, and not at all, as her aristocratic relatives and country-folk erroneously imagined, to her deceased husband, who had, in fact, held himself