The Launching of Roger Brook

This new and promising friendship did something to take his mind off Athenais's unexpected coldness, but he was still worrying about it next morning when he received a visitor.

After an abrupt knock, a gaunt, stooping priest with thin, greying hair, a high forehead and piercing black eyes, came with a catlike step into his room.

Roger had seen him in the chapel the previous day assisting the Cure in the Celebration of the mass, and guessed that he must be the Marquis's secretary.

'I am L'Abbd d'Heury,' the priest introduced himself, confirming Roger's guess, 'and I felt that I must make your acquaintance before leaving for Paris, in case there is any way in which I can be of assistance to you.'

After Roger had thanked him and assured him that he had every­thing he wanted, the Abbe lingered for only a few moments to make a few general remarks on the difficulties of the task that Roger had undertaken, then quietly withdrew.

The following morning, with two coaches, the first for himself and the Abbe d'Heury, the second for his personal chef, barber and valet, and preceded by a troop of outriders to clear his way through towns and villages, the Marquis set out for Paris. In consequence, when evening came, Roger decided to avail himself of the permission he had received to occupy the library, and went down the main staircase in the hope that somewhere in that part of the house he might happen upon Athenais.

Having hung about the hall for a little, and, not liking to enter any of the other rooms uninvited, he went into the library and half­heartedly began to examine some of the shelves of beautifully bound books. He had been thus engaged for some half-hour when he heard a faint sound behind him and, turning, saw Athenais standing in the tall doorway.

She was in simple country clothes with her golden hair unpowdered, and to him she looked absolutely ravishing. But she did not acknow­ledge the leg he made her or return his smile. Instead, she said sharply:

'Monsieur Breuc! What are you doing here?'

'Your father gave me permission to use this room and to read his books,' Roger replied in surprise.

'I do not mean that. What are you doing at Becherel, living in the chateau?'

'I am analysing the contents of some documents for Monseigneur.'

She made an impatient gesture. 'Yes, yes! I learned that on Sunday after seeing you at Mass. Do you not understand that I resent, intensely, your following me here and insinuating yourself into my home?'

'But Athenais…!' he began in a hurt and puzzled voice.

Her blue eyes flashed. 'How dare you call me Athenais! To you I am Mademoiselle de Rochambeau.'

'But Mademoiselle!' he protested. 'What have I done to bring upon myself your displeasure? Maitre Leger offered me this post and I naturally accepted it.'

'Would you have done so had you not thought that it offered you an opportunity to seek my society?'

Roger hesitated only an instant. 'No, I would not. But I thought that you would be pleased to see me.'

'On the contrary; your presence here embarrasses me exceedingly.'

'Why should it?'

'Because you have taken advantage of a kind interest on my part to attempt to force yourself upon me.'

'I don't understand,' Roger held out his hands in a pathetic gesture. 'In those poems I wrote for you I made clear my feelings, and in the note you gave me before leaving Rennes you said how much you wished that we could talk together.'

'Surely you had the sense to realise that I meant that only if our circumstances were different?'

'Well, they are different,' Roger cried desperately. 'Good fortune has provided me with a way through the barrier that kept us apart. I now have a right to be in your house, so why should we not develop our friendship?'

Athenais tapped her foot impatiently upon the floor. 'Since you force me to it I see that I must speak more plainly. That night, nearly two years ago, when you took refuge in my coach, I was only a little girl. I carried you home and, with a childish lack of values, insisted that you should dine with us. Even my small brother had the sense to see the unfitness of such a proceeding, but I was always headstrong. Later, it amused me to receive your verses. It had all the strangeness of a fairy tale; 'twas like receiving the homage of a man on Mars. But now, things are entirely different. I am grown up and you are no longer a man living in some strange other world. You are here, in this house, and simply as one of my father's servants. That fact has killed for ever any absurd romantic thoughts that I may have indulged in about you.'

Roger stared at her in dismay. It was true that she was no longer a child. She had grown a lot in the past two years, her figure, although not yet fully formed, had filled out in gentle contours; her voice had lost its shrill note and become more melodious. He thought her more than ever desirable but he could not understand her attitude.

'How can you be so unkind!' he burst out. 'That I work for your father makes me no other than I was. I am still the same person, and your most devoted slave.'

'Monsieur!' she said haughtily. 'Will you kindly understand that Mademoiselle de Rochambeau does not accept devotion, in the sense you mean it, from one who sits behind her in the chapel of her home. A person, in fact, who has placed himself on a par with people like Chenou and Aldegonde. 'Tis unthinkable; and your coming here was the worst possible error in good taste. If you wish to revive any spark of good feeling that I may have left for you, the best thing you can do is to pack your bag and leave here to-morrow morning.'

Roger went as white as though someone had struck him. For a second he did not reply, then his blue eyes hardened and he snapped: 'I'll do no such thing. Your father has given me work to do, and I'll remain here till I've done it.'

'So be it!' she snapped back. 'But I give you fair warning! If you seek to force yourself upon me I'll secure your dismissal by writing to my father. In the meantime, should we chance to meet about the chateau, you will speak only should I first address you; and you will keep your eyes lowered, as befits your position.'

Snatching up a book that she had come to fetch, from a nearby table, she turned on her heel and marched regally from the room.

Poor Roger was quite shattered. In a brief three minutes his whole object in coming to Becherel had been completely nullified. He felt that he would have done better by far to have gone to Paris, where new scenes and people might finally have worked Athenais out of his system. But, having said that he meant to stay on he determined to stick it out, rather than give her the satisfaction of having driven him away.

When Sunday came again it brought him at least the comfort of an unexpected kindness. Madame Marie- Ange met him in the garden. She returned his bow with a pleasant smile and suggested that he should walk with her for a while as she would like to talk to him.

Somewhat surprised he fell into step with her and, after a moment, she said: 'I fear, Monsieur Breuc, that you find yourself in a somewhat difficult position here?'

'Not more so, Madame, than I would in any other strange house­hold,' he replied, colouring slightly.

'Oh, cornel' she tapped his arm lightly with her fan. 'You need have no secrets from me, and I know what is troubling you. Do you suppose I am so blind that I did not see you slip those little notes to Mademoiselle Athenais each Sunday last winter, in St. Melaine?'

Roger's colour deepened to a brilliant pink. 'Madame!' he stammered, 'Madame, I…'

'Do not seek to excuse yourself,' she went on quietly. 'Athenais is a haughty and wilful girl, but she has many good qualities and a kind heart. As no harm could come of it I saw no reason why I should deprive either of you of this small pleasure. But, now that you have come to live at the chateau, I trust you will appreciate that, in my position, I could not countenance the continuance of what I have hitherto regarded as a childish frolic.'

'Be at rest, Madame,' Roger replied gloomily, 'Mademoiselle Athenais has already made it clear to me that, now she is grown up, she no longer has any time for my romantic attentions. '

'I guessed as much. Hence your doleful looks, no doubt.'

'I take it hardly, Madame, that Mademoiselle will no longer regard me as a friend.'

'Did you expect it, then?' asked Madame Marie-Ange, raising her eyebrows.

'Why should I not?' he grumbled. 'Because I have taken service with Monseigneur I have not, overnight, acquired bugs in my hair, or lost such culture as I formerly possessed.'

'But surely. Monsieur, you realise that the difference in your stations renders such a friendship out of the question?'

'Why should it? You, Madame, are talking to me now with courtesy and kindness. Why should she not treat