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CHAPTER II

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somewhere about 1650 there lived on his estate, between compi?¨gne and pierrefonds, a wealthy noble, by name bernard de montragoux, whose ancestors had held the most important posts in the kingdom. but he dwelt far from the court, in that peaceful obscurity which then veiled all save that on which the king bestowed his glance. his castle of guillettes abounded in valuable furniture, gold and silver ware, tapestry and embroideries, which he kept in coffers; not that he hid his treasures for fear of damaging them by use; he was, on the contrary, generous and magnificent. but in those days, in the country, the nobles willingly led a very simple life, feeding their people at their own table, and dancing on sundays with the girls of the village.

on certain occasions, however, they gave splendid entertainments, which contrasted with the dullness of everyday life. so it was necessary that they should hold a good deal of handsome furniture and beautiful tapestries in reserve. this was the case with monsieur de montragoux.

his castle, built in the gothic period, had all its rudeness. from without it looked wild and gloomy enough, with the stumps of its great towers, which had been thrown down at the time of the monarchy's troubles, in the reign of the late king louis. within it offered a much pleasanter prospect. the rooms were decorated in the italian taste, as was the great gallery on the ground floor, loaded with embossed decorations in high relief, pictures and gilding.

at one end of this gallery there was a closet usually known as "the little cabinet." this is the only name by which charles perrault refers to it. it is as well to note that it was also called the "cabinet of the unfortunate princesses," because a florentine painter had portrayed on the walls the tragic stories of dirce, daughter of the sun, bound by the sons of antiope to the horns of a bull, niobe weeping on mount sipylus for her children, pierced by the divine arrows, and procris inviting to her bosom the javelin of cephalus. these figures had a look of life about them, and the porphyry tiles with which the floor was covered seemed dyed in the blood of these unhappy women. one of the doors of the cabinet gave upon the moat, which had no water in it.

the stables formed a sumptuous building, situated at some distance from the castle. they contained stalls for sixty horses, and coach-houses for twelve gilded coaches. but what made guillettes so bewitching a residence were the woods and canals surrounding it, in which one could devote oneself to the pleasures of angling and the chase.

many of the dwellers in that country-side knew monsieur de montragoux only by the name of bluebeard, for this was the only name that the common people gave him. and in truth his beard was blue, but it was blue only because it was black, and it was because it was so black that it was blue. monsieur de montragoux must not be imagined as having the monstrous aspect of the threefold typhon whom one sees in athens, laughing in his triple indigo-blue beard. we shall get much nearer the reality by comparing the seigneur of guillettes to those actors or priests whose freshly shaven cheeks have a bluish gloss.

monsieur de montragouz did not wear a pointed beard like his grandfather at the court of king henry ii; nor did he wear it like a fan, as did his great-grandfather who was killed at the battle of marignan. like monsieur de turenne, he had only a slight moustache, and a chin-tuft; his cheeks had a bluish look; but whatever may have been said of him, this good gentleman was by no means disfigured thereby, nor did he inspire any fear on that account. he only looked the more virile, and if it made him look a little fierce, it had not the effect of making the women dislike him. bernard de montragoux was a very fine man, tall, broad across the shoulders, moderately stout, and well favoured; albeit of a rustic habit, smacking of the woods rather than of drawing-rooms and assemblies. still, it is true that he did not please the ladies as much as he should have pleased them, built as he was, and wealthy. shyness was the reason; shyness, not his beard. women exercised an invincible attraction for him, and at the same time inspired him with an insuperable fear. he feared them as much as he loved them. this was the origin and initial cause of all his misfortunes. seeing a lady for the first time, he would have died rather than speak to her, and however much attracted he may have been, he stood before her in gloomy silence. his feelings revealed themselves only through his eyes, which he rolled in a terrible manner. this timidity exposed him to every kind of misfortune, and, above all, it prevented his forming a becoming connection with modest and reserved women; and betrayed him, defenceless, to the attempts of the most impudent and audacious. this was his life's misfortune.

left an orphan from his early youth, and having rejected, owing to this sort of bashfulness and fear, which he was unable to overcome, the very advantageous and honourable alliances which had presented themselves, he married a mademoiselle colette passage, who had recently settled down in that part of the country, after amassing a little money by making a bear dance through the towns and villages of the kingdom. he loved her with all his soul. and to do her justice, there was something pleasing about her, though she was what she was a fine woman with an ample bosom, and a complexion that was still sufficiently fresh, although a little sunburnt by the open air. great were her joy and surprise on first becoming a lady of quality. her heart, which was not bad, was touched by the kindness of a husband in such a high position, and with such a stout, powerful body, who was to her the most obedient of servants and devoted of lovers. but after a few months she grew weary because she could no longer go to and fro on the face of the earth. in the midst of wealth, overwhelmed with love and care, she could find no greater pleasure than that of going to see the companion of her wandering life, in the cellar where he languished with a chain round his neck and a ring through his nose, and kissing him on the eyes and weeping. seeing her full of care, monsieur de montragouz himself became careworn, and this only added to his companion's melancholy. the consideration and forethought which he lavished on her turned the poor woman's head. one morning, when he awoke, monsieur de montragoux found colette no longer at his side. in vain he searched for her throughout the castle.

the door of the cabinet of the unfortunate princesses was open. it was through this door that she had gone to reach the open country with her bear. the sorrow of bluebeard was painful to behold. in spite of the innumerable messengers sent forth in search of her, no news was ever received of colette passage.

monsieur de montragoux was still mourning her when he happened to dance, at the fair of guillettes, with jeanne de la cloche, daughter of the police lieutenant of compi?¨gne, who inspired him with love. he asked her in marriage, and obtained her forthwith. she loved wine, and drank it to excess. so much did this taste increase that after a few months she looked like a leather bottle with a round red face atop of it. the worst of it was that this leather bottle would run mad, incessantly rolling about the reception-rooms and the staircases, crying, swearing, and hiccoughing; vomiting wine and insults at everything that got in her way. monsieur de montragoux was dazed with disgust and horror. but he quite suddenly recovered his courage, and set himself, with as much firmness as patience, to cure his wife of so disgusting a vice, prayers, remonstrances, supplications, and threats: he employed every possible means. all was useless. he forbade her wine from his cellar: she got it from outside, and was more abominably drunk than ever.

to deprive her of her taste for a beverage that she loved too well, he put valerian in the bottles. she thought he was trying to poison her, sprang upon him, and drove three inches of kitchen knife into his belly. he expected to die of it, but he did not abandon his habitual kindness.

"she is more to be pitied than blamed," he said.

one day, when he had forgotten to close the door of the cabinet of the unfortunate princesses, jeanne de la cloche entered by it, quite out of her mind, as usual, and seeing the figures on the walls in postures of affliction, ready to give up the ghost, she mistook them for living women, and fled terror-stricken into the country, screaming murder. hearing bluebeard calling her and running after her, she threw herself, mad with terror, into a pond, and was there drowned. it is difficult to believe, yet certain, that her husband, so compassionate was his soul, was much afflicted by her death.

six weeks after the accident he quietly married gigonne, the daughter of his steward, traignel. she wore wooden shoes, and smelt of onions. she was a fine-looking girl enough, except that she squinted with one eye, and limped with one foot. as soon as she was married, this goose-girl, bitten by foolish ambition, dreamed of nothing but further greatness and splendour. she was not satisfied that her brocade dresses were rich enough, her pearl necklaces beautiful enough, her rubies big enough, her coaches sufficiently gilded, her lakes, woods, and lands sufficiently vast. bluebeard, who had never had any leaning toward ambition, trembled at the haughty humour of his spouse. unaware, in his straightforward simplicity, whether the mistake lay in thinking magnificently like his wife, or modestly as he himself did, he accused himself of a mediocrity of mind which was thwarting the noble desires of his consort, and, full of uncertainty, he would sometimes exhort her to taste with moderation the good things of this world, while at others he roused himself to pursue fortune along the verge of precipitous heights. he was prudent, but conjugal affection bore him beyond the reach of prudence. gigonne thought of nothing but cutting a figure in the world, being received at court, and becoming the king's mistress. unable to gain her point, she pined away with vexation, contracting a jaundice, of which she died. bluebeard, full of lamentation, built her a magnificent tomb.

this worthy seigneur overwhelmed by constant domestic adversity, would not perhaps have chosen another wife: but he was himself chosen for a husband by mademoiselle blanche de gibeaumex, the daughter of a cavalry officer, who had but one ear; he used to relate that he had lost the other in the king's service. she was full of intelligence, which she employed in deceiving her husband. she betrayed him with every man of quality in the neighbourhood. she was so dexterous that she deceived him in his own castle, almost under his very eyes, without his perceiving it. poor bluebeard assuredly suspected something, but he could not say what. unfortunately for her, while she gave her whole mind to tricking her husband, she was not sufficiently careful in deceiving her lovers; by which i mean that she betrayed them, one for another. one day she was surprised in the cabinet of the unfortunate princesses, in the company of a gentleman whom she loved, by a gentleman whom she had loved, and the latter, in a transport of jealousy, ran her through with his sword. a few hours later the unfortunate lady was there found dead by one of the castle servants, and the fear inspired by the room increased.

poor bluebeard, learning at one blow of his ample dishonour, and the tragic death of his wife, did not console himself for the latter misfortune by any consideration of the former. he had loved blanche de gibeaumez with a strange ardour, more dearly than he had loved jeanne de la cloche, gigonne traignel, or even colette passage. on learning that she had consistently betrayed him, and that now she would never betray him again, he experienced a grief and a mental perturbation which, far from being appeased, daily increased in violence. so intolerable were his sufferings that he contracted a malady which caused his life to be despaired of.

the physicians, having employed various medicines without effect, advised him that the only remedy proper to his complaint was to take a young wife. he then thought of his young cousin, ang?¨le de la garandine, whom he believed would be willingly bestowed upon him, as she had no property. what encouraged him to take her to wife was the fact that she was reputed to be simple and ignorant of the world. having been deceived by a woman of intelligence, he felt more comfortable with a fool. he married mademoiselle de la garandine, and quickly perceived the falsity of his calculations. ang?¨le was kind, ang?¨le was good, and ang?¨le loved him; she had not, in herself, any leanings toward evil, but the least astute person could quickly lead her astray at any moment. it was enough to tell her: "do this for fear of bogies; comes in here or the were-wolf will eat you;" or "shut your eyes, and take this drop of medicine," and the innocent girl would straightway do so, at the will of the rascals who wanted of her that which it was very natural to want of her, for she was pretty. monsieur de montragouz, injured and betrayed by this innocent girl, as much as and more than he had been by blanche de gibeaumex, had the additional pain of knowing it, for ang?¨le was too candid to conceal anything from him. she used to tell him: "sir, some one told me this; some one did that to me; some one took so and so away from me; i saw that; i felt so and so." and by her ingenuousness she caused her lord to suffer torments beyond imagination. he endured them like a stoic. still he finally had to tell the simple creature that she was a goose, and to box her ears. this, for him, was the beginning of a reputation for cruelty, which was not fated to be diminished. a mendicant monk, who was passing gulllettes while monsieur de montragouz was out shooting woodcock, found madame ang?¨le sewing a doll's petticoat. this worthy friar, discovering that she was as foolish as she was beautiful, took her away on his donkey, having persuaded her that the angel gabriel was waiting in a wood, to give her a pair of pearl garters. it is believed that she must have been eaten by a wolf, for she was never seen again.

after such a disastrous experience, how was it that bluebeard could make up his mind to contract yet another union? it would be impossible to understand it, were we not well aware of the power which a fine pair of eyes exerts over a generous heart.

the honest gentleman met, at a neighbouring ch?¢teau which he was in the habit of frequenting, a young orphan of quality, by name alix de pontalcin, who, having been robbed of all her property by a greedy trustee, thought only of entering a convent. officious friends intervened to alter her determination and persuade her to accept the hand of monsieur de montragoux. her beauty was perfect. bluebeard, who was promising himself the enjoyment of an infinite happiness in her arms, was once more deluded in his hopes, and this time experienced a disappointment, which, owing to his disposition, was bound to make an even greater impression upon him than all the afflictions which he had suffered in his previous marriages. alix de pontalcin obstinately refused to give actuality to the union to which she had nevertheless consented.

in vain did monsieur de montragoux press her to become his wife; she resisted prayers, tears, and objurgations, she refused her husband's lightest caresses, and rushed off to shut herself into the cabinet of the unfortunate princesses, where she remained, alone and intractable, for whole nights at a time.

the cause of a resistance so contrary to laws both human and divine was never known; it was attributed to monsieur de montragoux's blue beard, but our previous remarks on the subject of his beard render such a supposition far from probable. in any case, it is a difficult subject to discuss. the unhappy husband underwent the cruellest sufferings. in order to forget them, he hunted with desperation, exhausting horses, hounds, and huntsmen. but when he returned home, foundered and overtired, the mere sight of mademoiselle de pontalcin was enough to revive his energies and his torments. finally, unable to endure the situation any longer, he applied to rome for the annulment of a marriage which was nothing better than a trap; and in consideration of a handsome present to the holy father he obtained it in accordance with canon law. if monsieur de montragoux discarded mademoiselle de pontalcin with all the marks of respect due to a woman, and without breaking his cane across her back, it was because he had a valiant soul, a great heart, and was master of himself as well as of guillettes. but he swore that, for the future, no female should enter his apartments. happy had he been if he had held to his oath to the end!

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