Authors: Sheridan Le Fanu
The host of the Dragon Volant was an elderly man, thin, bronzed, intelligent, and with an air of decision, perfectly military. I learned afterwards that he had served under Napoleon in his early Italian campaigns.
"One question, I think you may answer," I said, "without risking a quarrel. Is the Count at home?"
"He has many homes, I conjecture," said the host evasively. "But — but I think I may say, Monsieur, that he is, I believe, at present staying at the Château de la Carque."
I looked out of the window, more interested than ever, across the undulating grounds to the château, with its gloomy background of foliage.
"I saw him to-day, in his carriage at Versailles," I said.
"Very natural."
"Then his carriage, and horses, and servants, are at the château?"
"The carriage he puts up here, Monsieur, and the servants are hired for the occasion. There is but one who sleeps at the château. Such a life must be terrifying for Madame the Countess," he replied.
"The old screw!" I thought. "By this torture, he hopes to extract her diamonds. What a life! What fiends to contend with — jealousy and extortion!"
The knight having made his speech to himself, cast his eyes once more upon the enchanter's castle, and heaved a gentle sigh — a sigh of longing, of resolution, and of love.
What a fool I was! and yet, in the sight of angels, are we any wiser as we grow older? It seems to me, only, that our illusions change as we go on; but, still, we are madmen all the same.
"Well, St Clair," said I, as my servant entered, and began to arrange my things.
"You have got a bed?"
"In the cock-loft, Monsieur, among the spiders, and,
par ma foi
! the cats and the owls. But we agree very well.
Vive la bagatelle
!"
"I had no idea it was so full."
"Chiefly the servants, Monsieur, of those persons who were fortunate enough to get apartments at Versailles."
"And what do you think of the Dragon Volant?"
"The Dragon Volant! Monsieur; the old fiery dragon! The devil himself, if all is true! On the faith of a Christian, Monsieur, they say that diabolical miracles have taken place in this house."
"What do you mean?
Revenants?
"
"Not at all, sir; I wish it was no worse.
Revenants?
No! People who have never returned — who vanished, before the eyes of half-a-dozen men all looking at them."
"What do you mean, St Clair? Let us hear the story, or miracle, or whatever it is."
"It is only this, Monsieur, that an ex-master-of-the-horse of the late king, who lost his head — Monsieur will have the goodness to recollect, in the revolution — being permitted by the Emperor to return to France, lived here in this hotel, for a month, and at the end of that time vanished, visibly, as I told you, before the faces of half-a-dozen credible witnesses! The other was a Russian nobleman, six feet high and upwards, who, standing in the centre of the room, downstairs, describing to seven gentlemen of unquestionable veracity the last moments of Peter the Great, and having a glass of
eau de vie
in his left hand, and his
tasse de café
, nearly finished, in his right, in like manner vanished. His boots were found on the floor where he had been standing; and the gentleman at his right found, to his astonishment, his cup of coffee in his fingers, and the gentleman at his left, his glass of
eau de vie
— "
"Which he swallowed in his confusion," I suggested.
"Which was preserved for three years among the curious articles of this house, and was broken by the
curé
while conversing with Mademoiselle Fidone in the housekeeper's room; but of the Russian nobleman himself, nothing more was ever seen or heard.
Parbleu!
when
we
go out of the Dragon Volant, I hope it may be by the door. I heard all this, Monsieur, from the postilion who drove us."
"Then it
must
be true!" said I, jocularly: but I was beginning to feel the gloom of the view, and of the chamber in which I stood; there had stolen over me, I know not how, a presentiment of evil; and my joke was with an effort, and my spirit flagged.
NO more brilliant spectacle than this masked ball could be imagined. Among other
salons
and galleries, thrown open, was the enormous Perspective of the "Grande Galerie des Glaces," lighted up on that occasion with no less than four thousand wax candles, reflected and repeated by all the mirrors, so that the effect was almost dazzling. The grand suite of
salons
was thronged with masques, in every conceivable costume. There was not a single room deserted. Every place was animated with music voices, brilliant colours, flashing jewels, the hilarity of extemporized comedy, and all the spirited incidents of a cleverly sustained masquerade. I had never seen before anything in the least comparable to this magnificent
fête
. I moved along, indolently, in my domino and mask, loitering, now and then, to enjoy a clever dialogue, a farcical song, or an amusing monologue, but, at the same time, keeping my eyes about me, lest my friend in the black domino, with the little white cross on his breast, should pass me by.
I had delayed and looked about me, specially, at every door I passed, as the Marquis and I had agreed; but he had not yet appeared.
While I was thus employed, in the very luxury of lazy amusement, I saw a gilded sedan chair, or, rather, a Chinese palanquin, exhibiting the fantastic exuberance of "Celestial" decoration, borne forward on gilded poles by four richly-dressed Chinese; one with a wand in his hand marched in front, and another behind; and a slight and solemn man, with a long black beard, a tall fez, such as a dervish is represented as wearing, walked close to its side. A strangely-embroidered robe fell over his shoulders, covered with hieroglyphic symbols; the embroidery was in black and gold, upon a variegated ground of brilliant colours. The robe was bound about his waist with a broad belt of gold, with cabalistic devices traced on it in dark red and black; red stockings, and shoes embroidered with gold, and pointed and curved upward at the toes, in Oriental fashion, appeared below the skirt of the robe. The man's face was dark, fixed, and solemn, and his eyebrows black, and enormously heavy — he carried a singular-looking book under his arm, a wand of polished black wood in his other hand, and walked with his chin sunk on his breast, and his eyes fixed upon the floor. The man in front waved his wand right and left to clear the way for the advancing palanquin, the curtains of which were closed; and there was something so singular, strange and solemn about the whole thing, that I felt at once interested.
I was very well pleased when I saw the bearers set down their burthen within a few yards of the spot on which I stood.
The bearers and the men with the gilded wands forthwith clapped their hands, and in silence danced round the palanquin a curious and half-frantic dance, which was yet, as to figures and postures, perfectly methodical. This was soon accompanied by a clapping of hands and a ha-ha-ing, rhythmically delivered.
While the dance was going on a hand was lightly laid on my arm, and, looking round, a black domino with a white cross stood beside me.
"I am so glad I have found you," said the Marquis; "and at this moment. This is the best group in the rooms.
You
must speak to the wizard. About an hour ago I lighted upon them, in another
salon
, and consulted the oracle by putting questions. I never was more amazed. Although his answers were a little disguised it was soon perfectly plain that he knew every detail about the business, which no one on earth had heard of but myself, and two or three other men, about the most cautious Persons in France. I shall never forget that shock. I saw other people who consulted him, evidently as much surprised and more frightened than I. I came with the Count de St Alyre and the Countess."
He nodded toward a thin figure, also in a domino. It was the Count.
"Come," he said to me, "I'll introduce you."
I followed, you may suppose, readily enough.
The Marquis presented me, with a very prettily-turned allusion to my fortunate intervention in his favour at the Belle Étoile; and the Count overwhelmed me with polite speeches, and ended by saying, what pleased me better still:
"The Countess is near us, in the next salon but one, chatting with her old friend the Duchesse d'Argensaque; I shall go for her in a few minutes; and when I bring her here, she shall make your acquaintance; and thank you, also, for your assistance, rendered with so much courage when we were so very disagreeably interrupted."
"You must, positively, speak with the magician," said the Marquis to the Count de St Alyre, "you will be so much amused.
I
did so; and, I assure you, I could not have anticipated such answers! I don't know what to believe."
"Really! Then, by all means, let us try," he replied.
We three approached, together, the side of the palanquin, at which the black-bearded magician stood.
A young man, in a Spanish dress, who, with a friend at his side, had just conferred with the conjuror, was saying, as he passed us by:
"Ingenious mystification! Who is that in the palanquin? He seems to know everybody!"
The Count, in his mask and domino, moved along, stiffly, with us, toward the palanquin. A clear circle was maintained by the Chinese attendants, and the spectators crowded round in a ring.
One of these men — he who with a gilded wand had preceded the procession — advanced, extending his empty hand, palm upward.
"Money?" inquired the Count.
"Gold," replied the usher.
The Count placed a piece of money in his hand; and I and the Marquis were each called on in turn to do likewise as we entered the circle. We paid accordingly.
The conjuror stood beside the palanquin, its silk curtain in his hand; his chin sunk, with its long, jet-black beard, on his chest; the outer hand grasping the black wand, on which he leaned; his eyes were lowered, as before, to the ground; his face looked absolutely lifeless. Indeed, I never saw face or figure so moveless, except in death. The first question the Count put, was: "Am I married, or unmarried?"
The conjuror drew back the curtain quickly, and placed his car toward a richly-dressed Chinese, who sat in the litter; withdrew his head, and closed the curtain again; and then answered: "Yes."
The same preliminary was observed each time, so that the man with the black wand presented himself, not as a prophet, but as a medium; and answered, as it seemed, in the words of a greater than himself.
Two or three questions followed, the answers to which seemed to amuse the Marquis very much; but the point of which I could not see, for I knew next to nothing of the Count's peculiarities and adventures.
"Does my wife love me?" asked he, playfully.
"As well as you deserve."
"Whom do I love best in the world?"
"Self."
"Oh! That I fancy is pretty much the case with everyone. But, putting myself out of the question, do I love anything on earth better than my wife?"
"Her diamonds."
"Oh!" said the Count. The Marquis, I could see, laughed.
"Is it true," said the Count, changing the conversation peremptorily, "that there has been a battle in Naples?"
"No; in France."
"Indeed," said the Count, satirically, with a glance round.
"And may I inquire between what powers, and on what particular quarrel?"
"Between the Count and Countess de St Alyre, and about a document they subscribed on the 25th July, 181l."
The Marquis afterwards told me that this was the date of their marriage settlement.
The Count stood stock-still for a minute or so; and one could fancy that they saw his face flushing through his mask.
Nobody, but we two, knew that the inquirer was the Count de St Alyre.
I thought he was puzzled to find a subject for his next question; and, perhaps, repented having entangled himself in such a colloquy. If so, he was relieved; for the Marquis, touching his arms, whispered.
"Look to your right, and see who is coming."
I looked in the direction indicated by the Marquis, and I saw a gaunt figure stalking toward us. It was not a masque. The face was broad, scarred, and white. In a word, it was the ugly face of Colonel Gaillarde, who, in the costume of a corporal of the Imperial Guard, with his left arm so adjusted as to look like a stump, leaving the lower part of the coat-sleeve empty, and pinned up to the breast. There were strips of very real sticking-plaster across his eyebrow and temple, where my stick had left its mark, to score, hereafter, among the more honourable scars of war.
I FORGOT for a moment how impervious my mask and domino were to the hard stare of the old campaigner, and was preparing for an animated scuffle. It was only for a moment, of course; but the count cautiously drew a little back as the gasconading corporal, in blue uniform, white vest, and white gaiters — for my friend Gaillarde was as loud and swaggering in his assumed character as in his real one of a colonel of dragoons — drew near. He had already twice all but got himself turned out of doors for vaunting the exploits of Napoleon le Grand, in terrific mock-heroics, and had very nearly come to hand-grips with a Prussian hussar. In fact, he would have been involved in several sanguinary rows already, had not his discretion reminded him that the object of his coming there at all, namely, to arrange a meeting with an affluent widow, on whom he believed he had made a tender impression, would not have been promoted by his premature removal from the festive scene of which he was an ornament, in charge of a couple of
gendarmes
.
"Money! Gold! Bah! What money can a wounded soldier like your humble servant have amassed, with but his sword-hand left, which, being necessarily occupied, places not a finger at his command with which to scrape together the spoils of a routed enemy?"
"No gold from him," said the magician. "His scars frank him."