 Chapter 29 of Modeste Mignon This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Nadine Cotpoulet, Modeste Mignon by Honoris de Balzac, translated by Catherine Prescott-Wormley. Chapter 29 Conclusion Ladies, said the Prince de Cadignan, as the guests were about to separate for the night. I know that several of you propose to follow the hounds with us tomorrow, and it becomes my duty to tell you that if you will be Diana's, you must rise, like Diana, with the dawn. The meet is for half past eight o'clock. I have in the course of my life seen many women display greater courage than men but for a few seconds only, and you will need a strong dose of resolution to keep you on horseback the whole day, bearing a halt for breakfast, which we shall take, like true hunters and huntresses, on the nail. Are you still determined to show yourselves trained housewomen? Prince, it is necessary for me to do so, said Modeste adorably. I answer for myself, said the Duchess de Cholieu, and I for my daughter Diana, she is worthy of her name, said it the Prince. So, then, you all persist in your intentions? However, I shall arrange for the sake of Madame and Manmoiselle de Verneuil and others of the party who stay at home to drive the stag to the further end of the pond. Make yourself quite easy, madame, said the Prince de Roudon, when the royal huntsmen had left the room. That breakfast on the nail will take place under a comfortable tent. The next day, at dawn, all signs gave promise of a glorious day. The skies, veiled by a slight grey vapour, showed spaces of purest blue, and would surely be swept clear before midday by the northwest wind, which was already playing with the fleecy cloudlets. As the hunting party left the chateau, the master of the hunt, the Duke de Rétor, and the Prince de Roudon, who had no ladies to escort, rode in the advance, noticing the white masses of the chateau, with its rising chimneys relieved against the brilliant red-brown foliage which the trees in Normandy put on at the close of a fine autumn. The ladies are fortunate in their weather, remarked the Duke de Rétor. Oh, in spite of all their boasting, replied the Prince de Cadignan, I think they will let us hunt without them. So they might, if each had not a squire, said the Duke. At this moment the attention of these determined huntsmen, for the Prince de Roudon and the Duke de Rétor, all of the race of Nimrod, and the best shots of the Foubours Saint-Germain, was attracted by a loud altercation, and they spurred their horses to an open space at the entrance to the forest of Rosembray, famous for its mossy turf, which was appointed for the meat. The cause of the quarrel was soon apparent. The Prince de Roudon, afflicted with anglomania, had brought out his own hunting establishment, which was exclusively Britannic, and placed it under orders of the master of the hunt. Now one of his men, a little Englishman, fair, pale, insolent, and phlegmatic, scarcely able to speak a word of French, and dressed with a neatness which distinguishes all Britons, even those of the lower classes, had posted himself on one side of this open space. John Barry wore a short, furrowed croot, buttoned tightly at the waist, made of scarlet cloth, with buttons bearing the Duvernoy arms, white leather breeches, top boots, a striped waist coast, and a collar and cape of black velvet. He held in his hand a small hunting whip, and hanging to his wrist by a silken cord was a brass horn. This man, the first whipperin, was accompanied by two thoroughbred dogs, foxhounds, white with liver spots, long in the leg, fine in the muzzle, with slender heads, and little ears at their crests. The huntsman, famous in the English county from which the Prince de Roudon had obtained him at great cost, was in charge of an establishment of fifteen horses and sixty English hunts which cost the Ducte de Verneuil, who was nothing of a huntsman, but chose to indulge his son in this essentially royal taste, an enormous sum of money to keep up. Now when John arrived on the ground, he found himself forestalled by three other whippersin in charge of two of the royal packs of hunts which had been brought there in carts. They were the three best huntsmen of the Prince de Cadignan, and presented, both in character and in their distinctively French costume, a marked contrast to the representative of Incident Albion. These favourites of the Prince, each wearing full-brimmed three-cornered hats, very flat and very wide-spreading, beneath which grin their swarthy, tanned and wrinkled faces, lighted by three pairs of twinkling eyes, were noticeably lean, sinewy and vigorous, like men in whom sport had become a passion. All three were supplied with immense horns of tempiaire, wound with green-waisted cords, leaving only the brass tubes visible, but they controlled their docks by the eye and voice. Those normal animals were far more faithful and submissive subjects than the human leeches whom the king was at that moment addressing. All were marked with white, black or liver spots, each having as distinctive accountants as the soldiers of Napoleon, their eyes flashing like diamonds at the slightest noise. One of them, brought from Poitou, was short in the back, deep in the shoulder, low-jointed and lobe-eared. The other, from England, wide, fine as a grey-hound with no belly, small ears and built for running. Both were young, impatient and yelping eagerly, while the old hounds, on the country, covered with scars, lay quietly with their heads on their forepaws and their ears to the earth like savages. As the Englishmen came up, the royal dogs and huntsmen looked at each other as though they said, if we cannot hunt by ourselves, his majesty's service is insulted. Beginning with chests, the quarrel presently grew fiercer between Monsieur Jacquin LaRoulie, the old French whipperin, and John Barry, the young Icelander. The two princes cast from afar the subject of the altercation, and the master of the hunt, setting spurs to his halls, brooded to an end by saying, in a voice of authority, Who drew the wood? I, Monseigneur, said the Englishmen. Very good, said the prince de Cadignan, proceeding to take Barry's report. Hounds and men became silent and respectful before the royal huntsmen, as though each recognized his dignity as supreme. The prince laid out the day's work, for it is with a hunt as it is with a battle, and the master of town stands hounds was the Napoleon of forests. Thanks to the admirable system which he has introduced into French venery, he was able to turn his thoughts exclusively to the science and strategy of it. He now quietly assigned a special duty to the prince de Ludon's establishment, that of driving this tack to water, when, as he expected, the royal hounds had send it into the crowned forest which outlined the horizon directly in front of the chateau. The prince knew well how to soothe the self-love of his old huntsmen by giving them the most arduous part of the work, and also that of the Englishmen whom he employed at his own specialty, affording him a chance to show the fleetness of his horses and dogs in the open. The two national systems were thus face to face and allowed to do their best under each other's eyes. "'Does Monsignor wish us to wait any longer?' said La Roulie respectfully. "'I know what you mean, old friend,' said the prince. "'It is late, but—' "'Here come the ladies,' said the second weperin. "'At that moment the cavalcade of sixteen riders was seen to approach at the head of which were the green veils of the four ladies. Modeste, accompanied by her father, the Grand Aquary, and La Brière, was in the advance beside the Duchesse de Moffrineuse, whom the Viconte de Cérizie escorted. Behind them rode the Duchesse de Choulieux, flanked by Canalis, or whom she was smiling without a trace of rancor. When they had reached the open space where the huntsmen with their red coats and brass bugles, surrounded by the hounds, made a picture worthy of Van der Merlen, the Duchesse de Choulieux, who, in spite of her emploi, sat her horse admirably, rode up to Modeste, finding it more for her dignity not to avoid that young person, to whom the evening before she had not said a single word. When the master of the hunt finished his compliments to the ladies on their amazing punctuality, Eleanor dain to observe the magnificent whip which sparked in Modeste's little hand, and graciously asked Leif to look at it. "'I have never seen anything of the kind more beautiful,' she said, showing it to Dianne de Moffrineuse. "'It is in keeping with its possessor,' she added, returning it to Modeste. "'You must admit, madame la Duchesse,' answered mademoiselle de la Bastille, with a tender and malicious glance at Labrière, that it is a rather strange gift from the hand of a future husband. "'I should take it,' said madame de Moffrineuse, as a declaration of my rights in remembrance of Louis XIV.' Labrière's eyes were suffused, and for a moment he dropped his reins, but a second glance from Modeste ordered him not to betray his happiness. The hunt now began. The duke des Rouvilles took occasion to say in a low voice to his fortunate rival, "'Monsieur, I hope that you will make your wife happy.' "'If I can be useful to you in any way, command my services. I should be only too glad to contribute to the happiness of so charming a pair.' This great day, in which such vast interests of heart and fortune were decided, caused but one anxiety to the master of the hunt, namely whether or not the stack would cross the pond and be killed on the lawn before the house. For huntsmen of his calibre are like great chess players who can predict a checkmate under certain circumstances. The happy old man succeeded to the hate of his wishes. The run was magnificent, and the ladies released him from his attendance upon them for the hunt of the next day but one, which, however, turned out to be rainy. The duke de Verneuil's guest stayed five days at Rosembray. On the last day, the Gazette de France announced the appointment of Monsieur le Baron du Canalis to the rank of commander of the Legend of Honor and to the post of minister at Garres-Roux. When, early in the month of December, Madame de la Bastille, operated upon Bay de Plain, recovered her sight and saw Ernest de la Brillaire for the first time, she pressed Modeste's hand and whispered in her ear, I should have chosen him myself. Toward the last of February, all the deeds for the estates in Provence were signed by La Tournelle, and about that time the family of La Bastille obtained the marked honor of the king's signature to the marriage contract and to the ordinance transmitting their title and arms to La Brillaire, who henceforth took the name of La Brillaire-La Bastille. The estate of La Bastille was entailed by letters patent issued about the end of April. La Brillaire's witnesses on the occasion of his marriage were Canalis and the minister whom he had served for five years as secretary. Those of the bride were the Duc des Rouvilles and des Plains, whom the mignon long held in grateful remembrance after giving him magnificent and substantial proofs of their regard. Later, in the course of this long history of our manners and customs, we may again meet Monsieur and Madame de la Brillaire à la Bastille, and those who have the eyes to see will then behold how sweet, how easy is the marriage yoke with an educated and intelligent woman. For Modeste, who had the wit to avoid the follies of pedantry, is the pride and happiness of her husband, as she is of her family and of all those who surround her. End of Chapter 29, Recording by Nadine Ecart-Boulay. End of Modeste Mignon, by Honoré de Balzac. Translated by Catherine Prescott-Wormley.