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diff --git a/4604-0.txt b/4604-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..04da75f --- /dev/null +++ b/4604-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21321 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Clique of Gold, by Emile Gaboriau + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Clique of Gold + +Author: Emile Gaboriau + +Release Date: April 13, 2006 [EBook #4604] +Last Updated: September 24, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLIQUE OF GOLD *** + + + + +Produced by David Moynihan; Dagny; John Bickers + + + + + +THE CLIQUE OF GOLD + +BY + +EMILE GABORIAU + + + + +THE CLIQUE OF GOLD + + + + +I. + +There is not in all Paris a house better kept or more inviting-looking +than No. 23 in Grange Street. As soon as you enter, you are struck by a +minute, extreme neatness, which reminds you of Holland, and almost sets +you a-laughing. The neighbors might use the brass plate on the door as a +mirror to shave in; the stone floor is polished till it shines; and the +woodwork of the staircase is varnished to perfection. + +In the entrance-hall a number of notices, written in the peculiar +style which owners of houses affect, request the tenants to respect the +property of others, without regard to the high price they pay for their +share. “Clean your feet, if you please,” they say to all who come in or +go out. “No spitting allowed on the stairs.” “Dogs are not allowed in +the house.” + +Nevertheless, this admirably-kept house “enjoyed” but a sorry reputation +in the neighborhood. Was it worse than other houses,--No. 21, for +instance, or No. 25? Probably not; but there is a fate for houses as +well as for men. + +The first story was occupied by the families of two independent +gentlemen, whose simplicity of mind was only equalled by that of their +mode of life. A collector, who occasionally acted as broker, lived in +the second story, and had his offices there. The third story was rented +to a very rich man, a baron as people said, who only appeared there at +long intervals, preferring, according to his own account, to live on +his estates near Saintonge. The whole fourth story was occupied by a +man familiarly known as Papa Ravinet, although he was barely fifty years +old. He dealt in second-hand merchandise, furniture, curiosities, and +toilet articles; and his rooms were filled to overflowing with a medley +collection of things which he was in the habit of buying at auctions. +The fifth story, finally, was cut up in numerous small rooms and +closets, which were occupied by poor families or clerks, who, almost +without exception, disappeared early in the morning, and returned only +as late as possible at night. + +An addition to the house in the rear had its own staircase, and was +probably in the hands of still humbler tenants; but then it is so +difficult to rent out small lodgings! + +However this may have been, the house had a bad reputation; and the +lodgers had to bear the consequences. Not one of them would have been +trusted with a dollar’s worth of goods in any of the neighboring shops. +No one, however, stood, rightly or wrongly, in as bad repute as the +doorkeeper, or concierge, who lived in a little hole near the great +double entrance-door, and watched over the safety of the whole house. +Master Chevassat and his wife were severely “cut” by their colleagues +of adjoining houses; and the most atrocious stories were told of both +husband and wife. + +Master Chevassat was reputed to be well off; but the story went that +he lent out money, and did not hesitate to charge a hundred per cent +a month. He acted, besides, it was said, as agent for two of his +tenants,--the broker, and the dealer in second-hand goods, and undertook +the executions, when poor debtors were unable to pay. Mrs. Chevassat, +however, had even graver charges to bear. People said she would do +anything for money, and had aided and encouraged many a poor girl in the +house in her evil career. + +It was also asserted that the estimable couple had formerly lived in the +fashionable Faubourg St. Honore, but had been compelled to leave there +on account of several ugly occurrences. They were, finally, reported to +have a son called Justin, a handsome fellow, thirty-five years old, who +lived in the best society, and whom they nearly worshipped; while he was +ashamed of them, and despised them, although he came often at night to +ask them for money. No one, it must, however, be confessed, had ever +seen this son; and no one knew him. + +The two Chevassats shrugged their shoulders, and said it would be absurd +if they should trouble themselves about public opinion, as long as their +consciences were clear, and they owed nobody anything. + +Towards the end of last December, however, on a Saturday afternoon, +towards five o’clock, husband and wife were just sitting down to dinner, +when the dealer in old clothes, Papa Ravinet, rushed like a tempest into +their room. + +He was a man of middle size, clean shaven, with small, bright, yellowish +eyes, which shone with restless eagerness from under thick, bushy brows. +Although he had lived for years in Paris, he was dressed like a man from +the country, wearing a flowered silk vest, and a long frock-coat with an +immense collar. + +“Quick, Chevassat!” he cried, with a voice full of trouble. “Take your +lamp, and follow me; an accident has happened upstairs.” + +He was so seriously disturbed, although generally very calm and cool, +that the two Chevassats were thoroughly frightened. + +“An accident!” exclaimed the woman; “that was all that was wanting. But +pray, what has happened, dear M. Ravinet?” + +“How do I know? This very moment, as I was just coming out of my room, I +thought I heard the death-rattle of a dying person. It was in the fifth +story. Of course I ran up a few steps, I listened. All was silent. I +went down again, thinking I had been mistaken; and at once I heard again +a sighing, a sobbing--I can’t tell you exactly what; but it sounded +exactly like the last sigh of a person in agony, and at the point of +death.” + +“And then?” + +“Then I ran down to tell you, and ask you to come up. I am not sure, +you understand; but I think I could swear it was the voice of Miss +Henrietta,--that pretty young girl who lives up there. Well, are you +coming?” + +But they did not stir. + +“Miss Henrietta is not in her room,” said Mrs. Chevassat coldly. “She +went out just now, and told me she would not be back till nine o’clock. +My dear M. Ravinet, you must have been mistaken; you had a ringing in +your ears, or”-- + +“No, I am sure I was not mistaken! But never mind; we must see what it +is.” + +During this conversation, the door of the room had been open; and +several of the lodgers, hearing the voice of the merchant and the +exclamations of the woman as they crossed the hall, had stopped and +listened. + +“Yes, we must see what it is,” they repeated. + +Master Chevassat dared no longer oppose the general desire so +peremptorily expressed,-- + +“Let us go then, since you will have it _so_,” he sighed. + +And, taking up his lamp, he began to ascend the stairs, followed by the +merchant, his wife, and five or six other persons. + +The steps of all these people were heard all over the house; and from +story to story the lodgers opened their doors to see what was going on. +And, when they heard that something was likely to happen, they almost +all left their rooms, and followed the others. + +So that Master Chevassat had nearly a dozen curious persons behind him, +when he stopped on the fifth floor to take breath. + +The door to Miss Henrietta’s room was the first on the left in the +passage. He knocked at first gently, then harder, and at last with all +his energy, till his heavy fists shook the thin partition-walls of all +the rooms. + +Between each blow he cried,-- + +“Miss Henrietta, Miss Henrietta, they want you!” + +No reply came. + +“Well!” he said triumphantly, “you see!” + +But, whilst the man was knocking at the door, M. Ravinet had knelt down, +and tried to open the door a little, putting now his eye, and now his +ear, to the keyhole and to the slight opening between the door and the +frame. + +Suddenly he rose deadly pale. + +“It is all over; we are too late!” + +And, as the neighbors expressed some doubts, he cried furiously,-- + +“Have you no noses? Don’t you smell that abominable charcoal?” + +Everybody tried to perceive the odor; and soon all agreed that he was +right. As the door had given way a little, the passage had gradually +become filled with a sickening vapor. + +The people shuddered; and a woman’s voice exclaimed,-- + +“She has killed herself!” + +As it happens strangely enough, but too frequently, in such cases, all +hesitated. + +“I am going for the police,” said at last Master Chevassat. + +“That’s right!” replied the merchant. “Now there is, perhaps, a chance +yet to save the poor girl; and, when you come back, it will of course be +too late.” + +“What’s to be done, then?” + +“Break in the door.” + +“I dare not.” + +“Well, I will.” + +The kind-hearted man put his shoulder to the worm-eaten door, and in a +moment the lock gave way. The bystanders shrank instinctively back; they +were frightened. The door was wide open, and masses of vapors rolled +out. Soon, however, curiosity triumphed over fear. No one doubted any +longer that the poor girl was lying in there dead; and each one tried +his best to see where she was. + +In vain. The feeble light of the lamp had gone out in the foul air; and +the darkness was frightful. + +Nothing could be seen but the reddish glow of the charcoal, which was +slowly going out under a little heap of white ashes in two small stoves. +No one ventured to enter. + +But Papa Ravinet had not gone so far to stop now, and remain in the +passage. + +“Where is the window?” he asked the concierge. + +“On the right there.” + +“Very well; I’ll open it.” + +And boldly the strange man plunged into the dark room; and almost +instantly the noise of breaking glass was heard. A moment later, and the +air in the room had become once more fit for breathing, and everybody +rushed in. + +Alas! it was the death-rattle which M. Ravinet had heard. + +On the bed, on a thin mattress, without blankets or bedclothes, lay a +young girl about twenty years old, dressed in a wretched black merino +dress, stretched out at full-length, stiff, lifeless. + +The women sobbed aloud. + +“To die so young!” they said over and over again, “and to die thus.” + +In the meantime the merchant had gone up to the bed, and examined the +poor girl. + +“She is not dead yet!” he cried. “No, she cannot be dead! Come, ladies, +come here and help the poor child, till the doctor comes.” + +And then, with strange self-possession, he told them what to do for the +purpose of recalling her to life. + +“Give her air,” he said, “plenty of air; try to get some air into her +lungs. Cut open her dress; pour some vinegar on her face; rub her with +some woollen stuff.” + +He issued his orders, and they obeyed him readily, although they had no +hope of success. + +“Poor child!” said one of the women. “No doubt she was crossed in love.” + +“Or she was starving,” whispered another. + +There was no doubt that poverty, extreme poverty, had ruled in that +miserable chamber: the traces were easily seen all around. The whole +furniture consisted of a bed, a chest of drawers, and two chairs. There +were no curtains at the window, no dresses in the trunk, not a ribbon +in the drawers. Evidently everything that could be sold had been sold, +piece by piece, little by little. The mattresses had followed the +dresses,--first the wool, handful by handful, then the covering. + +Too proud to complain, and cut off from society by bashfulness, the poor +girl who was lying there had evidently gone through all the stages of +suffering which the shipwrecked mariner endures, who floats, resting on +a stray spar in the great ocean. + +Papa Ravinet was thinking of all this, when a paper lying on the bureau +attracted his eye. He took it up. It was the last will of the poor girl, +and ran thus:-- + + +“Let no one be accused; I die voluntarily. I beg Mrs. Chevassat will +carry the two letters which I enclose to their addresses. She will be +paid whatever I may owe her. Henrietta.” + + +There were the two letters. On the first he read,-- + +Count Ville-Handry, Rue de Varennest 115. And, on the other,-- + +M. Maxime de Brevan, 62 Rue Laffitte. + +A sudden light seemed to brighten up the small yellowish eye of the +dealer in old clothes; a wicked smile played on his lips; and he uttered +a very peculiar, “Ah!” + +But all this passed away in a moment. + +His brow grew as dark as ever; and he looked around anxiously and +suspiciously to see if anybody had caught the impression produced upon +him by the letters. + +No, nobody had noticed him, nobody was thinking of him; for everybody +was occupied with Miss Henrietta. + +Thereupon he slipped the paper and the two letters into the vast pocket +of his huge frock-coat with a dexterity and a rapidity which would have +excited the envy of an accomplished pickpocket. It was high time; +for the women who were bending over the bed of the young girl were +exhibiting signs of intense excitement. One of them said she was sure +the body had trembled under her hand, and the others insisted upon it +that she was mistaken. The matter was soon to be decided, however. + +After, perhaps, twenty seconds of unspeakable anguish, during which all +held their breath, and solemn stillness reigned in the room, a cry of +hope and joy broke forth suddenly. + +“_She_ has trembled, she has moved!” + +This time there was no doubt, no denial possible. The unfortunate girl +had certainly moved, very faintly and feebly; but still she had stirred. + +A slight color returned to her pallid cheeks; her bosom rose painfully, +and sank again; her teeth, closely shut, opened; and with parted +lips she stretched forth her neck as if to draw in the fresh air +instinctively. + +“She is alive!” exclaimed the women, almost frightened, and as if they +had seen a miracle performed,--“she is alive!” + +In an instant, M. Ravinet was by her side. + +One of the women, the wife of the gentleman in the first story, held the +head of the girl on her arm, and the poor child looked around with that +blank, unmeaning eye which we see in mad-houses. They spoke to her; but +she did not answer; evidently she did not hear. + +“Never mind!” said the merchant, “she is saved; and, _when_ the doctor +comes, he will have little else to do. But she must be attended to, the +poor child, and we cannot leave her here alone.” + +The bystanders knew very well what that meant; and yet hardly any one +ventured timidly to assent, and say, “Oh, of course!” + +This reluctance did not deter the good man. + +“We must put her to bed,” he went on; “and, of course, she must have a +mattress, bedclothes and blankets. We want wood also (for it is terribly +cold here), and sugar for her tea, and a candle.” + +He did not mention all that was needed, but nearly so, and a great deal +too much for the people who stood by. As a proof of this, the wife +of the broker put grandly a five-franc piece on the mantlepiece, and +quietly slipped out. Some of the others followed her example; but they +left nothing. When Papa Ravinet had finished his little speech, there +was nobody left but the two ladies who lived on the first floor, and the +concierge and his wife. The two ladies, moreover, looked at each other +in great embarrassment, as if they did not know what their curiosity +might cost them. Had the shrewd man foreseen this noble abandonment of +the poor girl? One would have fancied so; for he smiled bitterly, and +said,-- + +“Excellent hearts--pshaw!” + +Then, shrugging his shoulders, he added,-- + +“Luckily, I deal in all possible things. Wait a minute. I’ll run down +stairs, and I’ll be back in a moment with all that is needed. After +that, we shall see what can be done.” + +The face of the concierge’s wife was a picture. Never in her life had +she been so much astonished. + +“They have changed Papa Ravinet, or I am mad.” + +The fact is, that the man was not exactly considered a benevolent and +generous mortal. They told stories of him that would have made Harpagon +envious, and touched the heart of a constable. + +Nevertheless, he re-appeared soon after, almost succumbing under the +weight of two excellent mattresses; and, when he came back a second +time, he brought much more than he had mentioned. + +Miss Henrietta was breathing more freely, but her face was still +painfully rigid. Life had come back before the mind had recovered; and +it was evident that she was utterly unconscious of her situation, and of +what was going on around her. This troubled the two ladies not a little, +although they felt very much relieved, and disposed to do everything, +now that they were no longer expected to open their purses. + +“Well, that is always the way,” said Papa Ravinet boldly. “However, the +doctor will bleed her, if there is any necessity.” + +And, turning to Master Chevassat, he added,-- + +“But we are in the way of these ladies; suppose we go down and take +something? We can come back when the child is comfortably put to bed.” + +The good man lived, to tell the truth, in the same rooms in which the +thousand and one things he was continually buying were piled up in vast +heaps. There was no fixed place for his bed even. He slept where he +could, or, rather, wherever an accidental sale had cleared a space for +the time,--one night in a costly bed of the days of Louis XIV., and the +next night on a lounge that he would have sold for a few francs. Just +now he occupied a little closet not more than three-quarters full; and +here he asked the concierge to enter. + +He poured some brandy into two small wineglasses, put a teakettle on the +fire, and sank into an arm-chair; then he said,-- + +“Well, M. Chevassat, what a terrible thing this is!” + +His visitor had been well drilled by his wife, and said neither yes nor +no; but the old merchant was a man of experience, and knew how to loosen +his tongue. + +“The most disagreeable thing about it,” he said with an absent air, “is, +that the doctor will report the matter to the police, and there will be +an investigation.” + +Master Chevassat nearly dropped his glass. + +“What? The police in the house? Well, good-by, then, to our lodgers; we +are lost. Why did that stupid girl want to die, I wonder! But no doubt +you are mistaken, my dear sir.” + +“No, I am not. But you go too fast. They will simply ask you who that +girl is, how she supports herself, and where she lived before she came +here.” + +“That is exactly what I cannot tell.” + +The dealer in old clothes seemed to be amazed; he frowned and said,-- + +“Halloo! that makes matters worse. How came it about that Miss Henrietta +had rooms in your house?” + +The concierge was evidently ill at ease; something was troubling him +sorely. + +“Oh! that is as clear as sunlight,” he replied; “and, if you wish it, +I’ll tell you the story; you will see there is no harm done.” + +“Well, let us hear.” + +“Well, then, it was about a year ago this very day, when a gentleman +came in, well dressed, an eyeglass stuck in his eye, impudent like a +hangman’s assistant, in fact a thoroughly fashionable young man. He said +he had seen the notice that there was a room for rent up stairs, and +wanted to see it. Of course I told him it was a wretched garret, unfit +for people like him; but he insisted, and _I_ took him up.” + +“To the room in which Miss Henrietta is now staying?” + +“Exactly. I thought he would be disgusted; but no. He looked out of the +window, tried the door if it would shut, examined the partition-wall, +and at last he said, ‘This suits me; I take the room.’ And thereupon he +hands me a twenty-franc piece to make it a bargain. I was amazed.” + +If M. Ravinet felt any interest in the story, he took pains not to show +it; for his eyes wandered to and fro as if his thoughts were elsewhere, +and he was heartily tired of the tedious account. + +“And who is that fashionable young man?” he asked. + +“Ah! that is more than I know, except that his name is Maxime.” + +That name made the old merchant jump as if a shower-bath had suddenly +fallen upon his head. He changed color; and his small yellowish eyes had +a strange look in them. + +But he recovered promptly, so promptly, that his visitor saw nothing; +and then he said in a tone of indifference,-- + +“The young man did not give you his family name?” + +“No.” + +“But ought you not to have inquired?” + +“Ah, there is the trouble! I did not do it.” + +Gradually, and by a great effort, Master Chevassat began to master +his embarrassment. It looked as if he were preparing himself for the +assault, and to get ready for the police-officer. + +“I know it was wrong,” he continued; “but you would not have acted +differently in my place, my dear sir, I am sure. Just think! My room +belonged to M. Maxime, for I had his money in my pocket. I asked him +politely where he lived, and if there was any furniture to come. I +caught it nicely. He laughed me in the face, and did not even let me +finish my question. ‘Do I look,’ he said, ‘like a man who lives in a +place like this?’ And when he saw I was puzzled, he went on to tell me +that he took the room for a young person from the country, in whom he +took an interest, and that the contract and the receipts for rent must +all be made out in the name of Miss Henrietta. That was clear enough, +wasn’t it? Still it was my duty to know who Miss Henrietta was; so I +asked him civilly. But he got angry, and told me that was none of my +business, and that some furniture would be sent presently.” + +He stopped, waiting for his host to express his approbation by a word or +a sign; but, as nothing came, he went on,-- + +“In fine, I did not dare to insist, and all was done as he wanted it +done. That very day a dealer in second-hand furniture brought the pieces +you have seen up stairs; and the day after, about eleven o’clock, Miss +Henrietta herself appeared. She had not much baggage, I tell you; she +brought every thing she owned in a little carpet-bag in her hand.” + +The old merchant was stooping over the fire as if his whole attention +was given to the teakettle, in which the water was beginning to boil. + +“It seems to me, my good friend,” he said, “that you did not act very +wisely. Still, if that is really all, I don’t think they are likely to +trouble you.” + +“What else could there be?” + +“How do I know? But if that young damsel had been carried off by M. +Maxime, if you were lending a hand in an elopement, I think you would +be in a bad box. The law is pretty strict about it, in the case of a +minor.” + +The concierge protested with a solemn air. + +“I have told you the whole truth,” he declared. + +But Papa Ravinet did not by any means seem so sure of that. + +“That is your lookout,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Still, you +may be sure they will ask you how it could happen that one of your +tenants should fall into such a state of abject poverty without your +giving notice to anybody.” + +“Why, in the first place, I do not wait upon my lodgers. They are free +to do what they choose in their rooms.” + +“Quite right, Master Chevassat! quite right! So you did not know that M. +Maxime no longer came to see Miss Henrietta?” + +“He still came to see her.” + +In the most natural manner in the world, Papa Ravinet raised his arms to +heaven, and exclaimed as if horror-struck,-- + +“What! is it possible? That handsome young man knew how the poor girl +suffered? he knew that she was dying of hunger?” + +Master Chevassat became more and more troubled. He began to see what the +old merchant meant by his questions, and how unsatisfactory his answers +were. + +“Ah! you ask too many questions,” he said at last. “It was not my duty +to watch over M. Maxime. As for Miss Henrietta, as soon as she is able +to move, the serpent! I tell you I’ll send her off pretty quickly!” + +The old merchant shook his head, and said in his softest voice,-- + +“My dear sir, you won’t do that, because from today I’ll pay the rent +for her room. And, more than that, if you wish to oblige me, you will +be very kind to the poor girl, you hear, and even respectful, if you +please.” + +There was no misunderstanding the meaning of the word “oblige,” from the +manner in which he pronounced it; and yet he was about to enforce the +recommendation, when a fretting voice exclaimed on the stairs,-- + +“Chevassat! where are you, Chevassat?” + +“It’s my wife,” said the concierge. + +And, delighted to get away, he said to Papa Ravinet-- + +“I understand; she shall be treated as politely as if she were the +daughter of the owner of the house. But excuse me, I must attend to the +door; they call me, and I must go down stairs.” + +He slipped out without waiting for an answer, and utterly unable to +guess why the old merchant should take such a sudden interest in the +lodger on the fifth floor. + +“The rascal!” said Papa Ravinet to himself,--“the rascal!” + +But he had found out what he wanted to know. He was alone, and he knew +he had no time to lose. + +Quickly he drew the teakettle from the fire; and, pulling out Miss +Henrietta’s two letters, he held the one that was addressed to M. Maxime +de Brevan over the steam of the boiling water. In a moment the mucilage +of the envelope was dissolved, and the letter could easily be opened +without showing in any way that it had ever been broken open. And now +the old man read the following words:-- + + +“You are victorious, M. de Brevan. When you read this, I shall be no +longer alive. + +“You may raise your head again; you are relieved of all fears. Daniel +can come back. I shall carry the secret of your infamy and your +cowardice into the grave with me. + +“And yet, no! + +“I can pardon you, having but a few moments longer to live; but God +will not pardon you. I--I shall be avenged. And, if it should require a +miracle, that miracle will be done, so as to inform that honorable man +who thought you were his friend, how and why the poor girl died whom he +had intrusted to your honor. H.” + + +The old man was furious. + +“The honor of Maxime de Brevan!” he growled with a voice of intense +hatred,--“the honor of Maxime de Brevan!” + +But his terrible excitement did not keep him from manipulating the +other letter, addressed to Count Ville-Handry, in the same manner. The +operation was successful; and, without the slightest hesitation, he +read:-- + + +“Dear father,--Broken down with anxiety, and faint from exhaustion, I +have waited till this morning for an answer to my humble letter, which I +had written to you on my knees. + +“You have never replied to it; you are inexorable. I see I must die. I +shall die. Alas! I can hardly say I die willingly. + +“I must appear very guilty in your eyes, father, that you should abandon +me thus to the hatred of Sarah Brandon and her people. And yet--ah! I +have suffered terribly. I have struggled hard before I could make up my +mind to leave your house,--the house where my mother had died, where I +had been so happy, and so tenderly beloved as a child by both of you. +Ah, if you but knew! + +“And yet it was so little I asked of you!--barely enough to bury my +undeserved disgrace in a convent. + +“Yes, undeserved, father; for I tell you at this hour, when no one +utters a falsehood, if my reputation was lost, my honor was not lost.” + + +Big tears rolled down the cheeks of the old man; and he said in a +half-stifled voice,-- + +“Poor, poor child! And to think that for a whole year I have lived under +the same roof with her, without knowing it. But I am here. I am still in +time. Oh, what a friend _chance_ can be when it chooses!” + +Most assuredly not one of the inmates of the house would have recognized +Papa Ravinet at this moment; he was literally transfigured. He was no +longer the cunning dealer in second-hand articles, the old scamp with +the sharp, vulgar face, so well known at all public sales, where he sat +in the front rank, watching for good bargains, and keeping cool when all +around him were in a state of fervent excitement. + +The two letters he had just read had opened anew in his heart more than +one badly-healed and badly-scarred wound. He was suffering intensely; +and his pain, his wrath, and his hope of vengeance long delayed, gave +to his features a strange expression of energy and nobility. With +his elbows on the table, holding his head in his hands, and looking +apparently into the far past, he seemed to call up the miseries of the +past, and to trace out in the future the vague outlines of some great +scheme. And as his thoughts began to overflow, so to say, he broke out +in a strange, spasmodic monologue,-- + +“Yes,” he murmured, “yes, I recognize you, Sarah Brandon! Poor child, +poor child! Overcome by such horrible intrigues! And that Daniel, who +intrusted her to the care of Maxime de Brevan--who is he? Why did she +not write to him when she suffered thus? Ah, if she had trusted me! What +a sad fate! And how can I ever hope to make her confide in _me_?” + +An old clock struck seven, and the merchant was suddenly recalled to the +present; he trembled in all his limbs. + +“Nonsense!” he growled. “I was falling asleep; and that is what I cannot +afford to do. I must go up stairs, and hear the child’s confession.” + +Instantly, and with amazing dexterity, he replaced the letters in their +envelopes, dried them, pasted them up again, and smoothed them down, +till every trace of the steam had entirely disappeared. Then looking at +his work with an air of satisfaction, he said,-- + +“That was not so badly done. An expert in the post-office would not +suspect it. I may risk it.” + +And, thus re-assured, he rapidly mounted up to the fifth story; but +there Mrs. Chevassat suddenly barred his way, coming down stairs in a +manner which showed clearly that she had lain in wait for him. + +“Well, my dear sir,” she said with her sweetest manner: “so you have +become Miss Henrietta’s banker?” + +“Yes; do you object to it?” + +“Oh, not at all! It is none of my business, only”-- + +She stopped, smiling wickedly, and then added,-- + +“Only she is a prodigiously pretty girl; and I was just saying to +myself, ‘Upon my word, M. Ravinet’s taste is not bad.’” + +The merchant was on the point of giving her a pretty sharp, indignant +reply; but he controlled himself, because he knew how important it was +to mislead the woman; and, forcing himself to smile, he said,-- + +“You know I count upon your being discreet.” + +When he got up, he found that he ought, at least, to give credit to +Mamma Chevassat and the two ladies from the first floor, for having +employed their time well, and for having skilfully made use of the +articles he had contributed. The room, a short time ago cold and bare, +had an air of comfort about it now, which was delightful. On the +bureau stood a lamp with a shade to prevent the light from hurting the +patient’s eyes; a bright fire blazed on the hearth; several old curtains +had been hung before the window, one before the other, to replace for +the time the missing panes; and on the table stood a teakettle, a china +cup, and two small medicine-bottles. + +Evidently the doctor had been here during Ravinet’s absence. He had +bled the poor girl, prescribed some medicines, and left again, with the +assurance that nothing more was needed but perfect quiet. + +In fact, there was no trace left of the sufferings and the terrible +danger from which the patient had so marvellously escaped, except the +deep pallor of her face. Stretched out at full-length on her comfortable +bed with its thick mattresses and snow-white sheets, her head propped +up high on a couple of pillows, she was breathing freely, as was easily +seen by the steady, regular rising and falling of her bosom under the +cover. + +But life and consciousness had also brought back to her a sense of the +horror of her position, and of her capacity for suffering. + +Her brow resting on her arm, which was almost concealed by masses of +golden hair, immovable, and her eyes fixed steadily upon infinite space, +as if trying to pierce the darkness of the future, she would have looked +like a statue of sorrow rather than of resignation, but for the big +tears which were slowly dropping down her cheeks. + +Her exquisite beauty looked almost ethereal under the circumstances; and +Papa Ravinet, when he saw her, remained fixed by admiration, standing +upon the threshold of the open door. But it occurred to him at once that +he might be looked upon as a spy, and that his feelings would be sure +to be misinterpreted. He coughed, therefore, to give warning, and then +stepped in. + +At the noise he made, Henrietta roused herself. When she saw the old +merchant, she said in a faint, feeble voice,-- + +“Ah! it is you, sir. These kind ladies have told me all. You have saved +my life.” Then, shaking her head, she added,-- + +“You have rendered me a sad service, sir.” + +She uttered these words so simply, but in a tone of such harrowing +grief, that Papa Ravinet was overcome. + +“Unhappy child!” he exclaimed, “you do not think of trying it over +again?” + +She made no answer. It was as good as if she had said, Yes. + +“Why, you must be mad!” said the old man, excited almost beyond control. +“Only twenty years old, and give up life! That has never been done +before. You are suffering now; but you can hardly imagine what +compensation Providence may have in store for you hereafter”-- + +She interrupted him by a gesture, and said,-- + +“There was no future for me, sir, when I sought refuge in death.” + +“But”-- + +“Oh, don’t try to convince me, sir! What I did, I had to do. I felt how +life was leaving me, and I only wished to shorten the agony. I had not +eaten any thing for three days when I lit that charcoal. Even to get the +charcoal, I had to risk a falsehood, and cheat the woman who let me have +it in credit. And yet God knows I was not wanting in courage. I would +have done the coarsest, hardest work cheerfully, joyously. But how did +I know how to get work? I asked Mrs. Chevassat a hundred times to obtain +employment for me; but she always laughed at me; and, when I begged +hard, she said”-- + +She stopped; and her face became crimson with shame. She dared not +repeat what the wife of the concierge had said. But she added in a voice +trembling with womanly shame and deep indignation,-- + +“Ah, that woman is a wicked creature!” + +The old merchant was probably fully aware of the character of Mrs. +Chevassat. He guessed only too readily what kind of advice she had given +this poor girl of twenty, who had turned to her for help in her great +suffering. He uttered an oath which would have startled even that +estimable woman, and then said warmly,-- + +“I understand, Miss Henrietta, I understand. Do you think I don’t know +what you must have suffered? I know poverty, as well as you. I can +understand your purpose but too well. Who would not give up life itself +when everybody abandons us? But I do not understand your despair, now +that circumstances have changed.” + +“Alas, sir, how have they changed?” + +“How? What do you mean? Don’t you see me? Do you think I would leave +you, after having been just in time to save your life? That would be +nice! No, my dear child, compose yourself; poverty shall not come near +you again, I’ll see to that. You want somebody to advise you, to defend +you; and here I am; if you have enemies, let them beware! Come, smile +again, and think of the good times a-coming.” + +But she did not smile; she looked frightened, almost stupefied. Making +a supreme effort, she looked fixedly at the old man to see if she could +read in his face what were his real thoughts. He, on his part, was +seriously troubled by his failure to inspire her with confidence. + +“Do you doubt my promises?” he asked her. + +She shook her head; and uttering her words one by one, as if to give +them greater weight, she said,-- + +“I beg your pardon, sir. I do not doubt you. But I cannot understand why +you should offer me your kind protection.” + +Papa Ravinet affected a greater surprise than he really felt, and said, +raising his hands to heaven,-- + +“Great God! she mistrusts my good will.” + +“Sir!” + +“Pray what can you have to fear from me? I am an old man; you are almost +a child. I come to help you. Is not that perfectly natural, and quite +simple?” + +She said nothing; and he remained a few moments buried in thought, as if +trying to find out her motive for refusing his help. Suddenly he cried +out, beating his forehead,-- + +“Ah, I have it. That woman Chevassat has talked to you about me, no +doubt. Ah, the viper! I’ll crush her one of these days! Come, let us be +frank; what has she told you?” + +He hoped she would say a word at least. He waited; but nothing came. + +Then he broke forth, with a vehemence scarcely controlled, and in words +very unexpected from a man like him,-- + +“Well, I will tell you what the old thief has told you. She told you +Papa Ravinet was a dangerous, ill-reputed man, who carried on in the +dark all kind of suspicious trades. She told you the old scamp was a +usurer, who knew no law, and kept no promise; whose only principle was +profit; who dealt in every thing with everybody, selling to-day old iron +in junk-shops, and to-morrow cashmere shawls to fashionable ladies; and +who lent money on imaginary securities--the talent of men and the beauty +of women. In fine, she told you that it was a piece of good-fortune for +a woman to be under my protection, and you knew it was a disgrace.” + +He stopped, as if to give the poor girl time to form her judgment, and +then went on more calmly,-- + +“Let us suppose there is such a Papa Ravinet as she has described. But +there is another one, whom but few people know, who has been sorely +tried by misfortune; and he is the one who now offers his aid to you.” + +There is no surer way to make people believe in any virtue we have, or +wish to appear to have, than to accuse ourselves of bad qualities, or +even vices, which we do not have. But, if the old man had calculated +upon this policy, he failed signally. Henrietta remained as icy as ever, +and said,-- + +“Believe me, sir, I am exceedingly obliged to you for all you have done +for me, and for your effort to convince me.” + +The poor man looked disappointed. + +“In fact, you reject my offers, because I do not explain them to you by +any of the usual motives. But what can I tell you? Suppose I should say +to you that I have a daughter who has secretly left me, so that I do +not know what has become of her, and that her memory makes me anxious +to serve you. May I not have said to myself, that perhaps she is +struggling, just as you have done, with poverty; that she also has been +abandoned by her lover?” + +The poor girl turned deadly pale as he spoke thus, and interrupted him +eagerly, raising herself on her pillows,-- + +“You are mistaken, sir. My position here may justify such suspicions, I +know; but I have no lover.” + +He replied,-- + +“I believe you; I swear I believe you. But, if that is so, how did you +get here? and how were you reduced to such extreme suffering?” + +At last Papa Ravinet had touched the right chord. The poor girl was +deeply moved; and the tears started in her eyes. She said in a low +voice,-- + +“There are secrets which cannot be revealed.” + +“Not even when life and honor depend on them?” + +“Yes.” + +“But”-- + +“Oh, pray do not insist!” + +If Henrietta had known the old merchant, she would have read in his eyes +the satisfaction which he felt. A moment before he had despaired of ever +gaining her confidence; now he felt almost sure of success. The time +seemed to him to have come to strike a decisive blow. + +“I have tried my best to win your confidence, I confess; but it was +solely in your own interest. If it had been otherwise, do you think +I should have asked you these questions, instead of finding out every +thing by simply tearing a piece of paper?” + +The poor girl could not retain a cry of terror. + +“You mean my letters?” + +“I have both.” + +“Ah! That is why the ladies who nursed me looked for them everywhere in +vain.” + +Instead of any other answer, he drew them from his pocket, and laid them +on the bed with an air of injured innocence. To all appearances, the +envelopes had not been touched. Henrietta glanced at them, and then, +holding out her hand to the old man, she said,-- + +“I thank you, sir!” + +He did not stir; but he felt that this false evidence of honesty had +helped him more than all his eloquence. He hastily added,-- + +“After all, I could not resist the temptation to read the directions, +and to draw my own conclusions. Who is Count Ville-Handry? I suppose he +is your father. And M. Maxime de Brevan? No doubt he is the young man +who called to see you so often. Ah, if you would but trust me! If you +but knew how a little experience of the world often helps us to overcome +the greatest difficulties!” + +He was evidently deeply moved. + +“However, wait till you are perfectly well again before you come to any +decision. Consider the matter carefully. You need not tell me any thing +else but what is absolutely necessary for me to know in order to advise +you.” + +“Yes, indeed! In that way I may”-- + +“Well, I’ll wait, why, as long as you want me to wait,--two days, ten +days.” + +“Very well.” + +“Only, I pray you, promise me solemnly that you will give up all idea of +suicide.” + +“I promise you solemnly I will.” + +Papa Ravinet’s eyes shone with delight; and he exclaimed joyously,-- + +“Done! I’ll come up again to-morrow; for, to tell the truth, I am tired +to death, and must go and lie down.” + +But he told a fib; for he did not go back to his rooms. In spite of +the wretched weather, he left the house; and, as soon as he was in the +street, he hid himself in a dark corner, from which he could watch the +front-door of the house. He remained there a long time, exposed to wind +and rain, uttering now and then a low oath, and stamping with his feet +to keep himself warm. At last, just as it struck eleven, a hack stopped +at No. 23. A young man got out, rang the bell, and entered. + +“He is Maxime de Brevan,” murmured the old man. Then he added in a +savage voice,-- + +“I knew he would come, the scoundrel! to see if the charcoal had done +its work.” + +But the same moment the young man came out again, and jumped into the +carriage, which quickly drove off. + +“Aha!” laughed the merchant. “No chance for you, my fine fellow! You +have lost your game, and you’ll have to try your luck elsewhere; and +this time I am on hand. I hold you fast; and, instead of one bill to +pay, there will be two now.” + + + + +II. + +Generally it is in novels only that unknown people suddenly take it into +their heads to tell their whole private history, and to confide to their +neighbors even their most important and most jealously-guarded secrets. +In real life things do not go quite so fast. + +Long after the old merchant had left Henrietta, she lay pondering, and +undecided as to what she should do on the next day. In the first place, +she asked herself who this odd man could be, who had spoken of himself +as a dangerous and suspicious person. Was he really what he appeared to +be? The girl almost doubted it. Although wholly inexperienced, she still +had been struck by certain astounding changes in Papa Ravinet. Thus, +whenever he became animated, his carriage, his gestures, and his +manners, contrasted with his country-fashioned costume, as if he had for +the moment forgotten his lesson. At the same time his language, usually +careless and incorrect, and full of slang terms belonging to his trade, +became pure and almost elegant. + +What was his business? Had he been a dealer in second-hand articles +before he became a tenant in No. 23 Grange Street, three years ago? One +might very easily have imagined that Papa Ravinet (was that his real +name?) had before that been in a very different position. And why not? +Is not Paris the haven in which all shipwrecked sailors of society seek +a refuge? Does not Paris alone offer to all wretched and guilty people +a hiding-place, where they can begin a new life, lost and unknown in the +vast multitude? What discoveries might be made there? How many persons, +once brilliant lights in the great world, and then, of a sudden, sought +for in vain by friend and foe, might be found there again, disguised +in strange costumes, and earning a livelihood in most curious ways! Why +should not the old merchant be one of this class? + +But, even if this were so, it would not have satisfactorily explained +to Henrietta the eagerness of Papa Ravinet to serve her, nor his +perseverance in offering her his advice. Was it merely from charity that +he did all this? Alas! Christian charity is not often so pressing. + +Did he know who Henrietta was? Had he at any period of her life come in +contact with her? or had his interests ever been mixed up with hers? Was +he anxious to make a return for some kindness shown to him? or did he +count upon some reward in the future? Who could tell? + +“Would it not be the height of imprudence to put myself in the power of +this man?” thought the poor girl. + +If, on the other hand, she rejected his offers, she fell back into that +state of forlorn wretchedness, from which she had only been able to save +herself by suicide. + +This view was all the more urgent, as the poor child, like all persons +who have been rescued from death only after having exhausted their +sufferings, now began to cling to life with an almost desperate +affection. It seemed as if the contact with death had wiped out at once +all the memory of the past, and all the threats of the future. + +“O Daniel!” she said to herself, trembling all over,--“O Daniel! my only +friend upon earth, what would you suffer if you knew that you lost me +forever by the very means you chose to secure my safety!” + +To refuse the assistance offered her by Papa Ravinet would have required +an amount of energy which she did not possess. The voice of reflection +continually said to her,-- + +“The old man is your only hope.” + +It never occurred to her to conceal the truth from Papa Ravinet, or to +deceive him by a fictitious story. She only thought how she could tell +him the truth without telling him all; how she could confess enough to +enable him to serve her, and yet not to betray a secret which she held +more dear than her happiness, her reputation, and life itself. + +Unfortunately, she was the victim of one of those intrigues which are +formed and carried out within the narrow circle of a family,--intrigues +of the most abominable character, which people suspect, and often even +know perfectly well, and which yet remain unpunished, because they +cannot be reached by the law. + +Henrietta’s father, Count Ville-Handry, was in 1845 one of the +wealthiest land-owners of the province of Anjou. The good people near +Rosiers and Saint Mathurin were fond of pointing out to strangers the +massive towers of Ville-Handry, a magnificent castle half hid among +noble old woods on the beautiful slopes of the bluffs which line the +Loire. + +“There,” they said, “lives a true gentleman, a little too proud, +perhaps, but, nevertheless, a true gentleman.” + +For contrary to the usual state of things in the country, where envy +is apt to engender hatred, the count was quite popular, in spite of his +title and his large fortune. He was at that time about forty years old, +quite tall and good-looking, solemn and courteous, obliging, although +reserved, and very good-natured as long as no one spoke in his presence +of the church or the reigning family, the nobility or the clergy, of his +hounds or the wines of his vineyards, or of various other subjects on +which he had what he chose to consider his “own opinions.” + +As he spoke but rarely, and said little at the time, he said fewer +foolish things than most people, and thus obtained the reputation of +being clever and well-informed, of which he was very proud and very +careful. He lived freely, almost profusely, and thus put aside every +year but little more than about half his income. He had all his clothes +made in Paris, was proud of his foot, and always wore gloves. + +His house was kept handsomely; and his gardens cost him a good deal of +money. He kept a pack of hounds, and six hunters. Finally, he kept half +a dozen lazy servants in the house, whose gorgeous liveries, with +the family coat-of-arms, were a source of perpetual wonder at Saint +Mathurin. + +He would have been perfect, but for his passion for hunting. + +As soon as the season opened, he was sure to be found, on foot or +on horseback, crossing the stubblefields, jumping over hedges, or +floundering in the swamps. This he carried so far, that the ladies of +the neighborhood, who had daughters, blamed him to his face for +his imprudence, and scolded him for risking his precious health so +recklessly. + +This nobleman, forty years old, and enjoying all that heart could +desire, was unmarried. And yet he had not lacked opportunities to remedy +the evil. There was not a good mother for twenty miles around who did +not covet this prize for her daughter,--thirty thousand dollars a year, +and a great man. + +He had only to appear at a ball in the provincial towns, and he was the +hero. Mothers and daughters kept their sweetest smiles for him; and kind +welcomes were offered on all sides. But all these manoeuvres had been +fruitless; he had escaped from all snares, and resisted the most cunning +devices. + +Why was he so much opposed to marriage? His friends found the +explanation in a certain person, half housekeeper, half companion, who +lived in the castle, and was very pretty and very designing. But there +are malicious tongues everywhere. + +The next year, however, an event occurred which was calculated to give +some ground to these idle, gossiping tales. One fine morning in the +month of July, 1847, the lady died suddenly of apoplexy. Six weeks +later, a report began to spread that Count Ville-Handry was going to be +married. + +The report was well founded. The count did marry. The fact could not +be doubted any longer, when the banns were read, and the announcement +appeared in the official journal. And whom do you think he married? +The daughter of a poor widow, the Baroness Rupert, who lived in great +poverty at a place called Rosiers, having nothing but a small pension +derived from her husband, who had been a colonel of artillery. + +If she had, at least, been of good and ancient family; if she had been, +at least, a native of the province! + +But no. No one knew exactly who she was, or where she came from. Some +people said the colonel had married her in Austria; others, in Sweden. +Her husband, they added, had been made a baron after the fashion of +others, who dubbed themselves such during the first empire, and had no +right to call himself noble. + +On the other hand, Pauline de Rupert, then twenty-three years old, was +in the full bloom of youth, and marvellously beautiful. Moreover, she +had, up to this time, been looked upon as a sensible, modest girl, very +bright and very sweet withal; in fact, possessed of every quality and +virtue that can make life happy, and add to the fame of a great house. + +But now, not a cent, no dower, not even a trousseau! + +Everybody was amazed; and a perfect storm of indignation arose in the +neighborhood. Was it possible, was it natural, that a great nobleman +like the count should end thus miserably, ridiculously? that he should +marry a penniless girl, an adventuress,--he who had had the pick and +choice of the richest and greatest ladies of the land? + +Was Count Ville-Handry a fool? or was he only insane about Miss Rupert? +Was she not perhaps, after all, a designing hypocrite, who had very +quietly, in her retired home, woven the net in which the lion of Anjou +was now held captive? + +People would have been less astonished, if they had known, that, for +years, a great intimacy had existed between the mother of the bride and +the housekeeper at the castle. But, on the other hand, this fact might +have led to very different surmises still. + +However that might be, the count was not suffered long to remain in +doubt as to the entire change of opinion in the neighborhood. He saw it +as soon as he paid the usual visits in the town of Angers, and at the +houses of the nobility near him. No more affectionate smiles, no tender +welcomes, no little white hands stealthily seeking his. The doors that +formerly seemed to fly open at his mere approach now turned but slowly +on their hinges; some remained even closed, the owners being reported +not at home, although the count knew perfectly well that they were in. + +One very noble and very pious old lady, who gave the keynote to society, +had said in the most decided manner,-- + +“For my part, I shall never receive at my house a damsel who used to +give music-lessons to my nieces, even if she had caught and entrapped a +Bourbon!” + +The charge was true. Pauline, in order to provide her mother with some +of the comforts which are almost indispensable to old people, had given +lessons on the piano in the neighborhood. Her terms had been low enough; +now they blamed her for the sacrifice. They would have blamed her for +the noblest of virtues; for all the blame was laid upon her. When people +met her, they looked away, so as not to have to bow to her. Even when +she was leaning on the count’s arm, there were persons who spoke very +kindly to him, and did not say a word to his wife, as if they had not +seen her, or she had not existed at all. This impertinence went so far, +that at last Count Ville-Handry, one day, almost beside himself with +anger, seized one of his neighbors by the collar of his coat, shook him +violently, and shouted out to him,-- + +“Do you see the countess, my wife, sir? How shall I chastise you to cure +you of your near-sightedness?” + +Foreseeing a duel, the impertinent man made his excuses; and his +experience put the rest of them on their guard. But their opinions +remained unchanged; open war only changed into secret opposition, that +was all. + +Fate, however, always more kind than man, held a reward in store for +Count Ville-Handry, which amply repaid him for his heroism in marrying +a poor girl. An uncle of his wife’s, a banker at Dresden, died, and +left his “beloved niece Pauline” half a million dollars. This immensely +wealthy man, who had never assisted his sister in her troubles, and who +would have disinherited the daughter of a soldier of fortune, had been +flattered by the idea of writing in his last will the name of his niece, +the “high and mighty Countess Ville-Handry.” + +This unexpected piece of good-fortune ought to have delighted the +young wife. She might now have had her vengeance on all her miserable +slanderers, and enjoyed a boundless popularity. But far from it. She had +never appeared more sad than on the day when the great news reached her. + +For on that very day she for the first time cursed her marriage. A +voice within her warned her that she ought never to have yielded to the +entreaties and the orders of her mother. An excellent daughter, as she +was to become the best of mothers, and the most faithful of wives, she +had sacrificed herself. And now an accident made all her sacrifices +useless, and punished her for having done her duty. + +Ah, why had she not resisted, at least for the purpose of gaining time? + +For when she was a girl she had dreamed of a very different future. Long +before giving herself to the count, she had, of her own free will, given +her heart to another. She had bestowed her first and warmest affections +upon a young man who was only two or three years older than she,--Peter +Champcey, the son of one of those marvellously rich farmers who live in +the valley of the Loire. + +He worshipped her. Unfortunately one obstacle had risen between them +from the beginning,--Pauline’s poverty. It could not be expected that +those keen, thrifty peasants, Champcey’s father and mother, would ever +permit one of their sons--they had two--to commit the folly of making a +love-match. + +They had worked hard for their children. The oldest, Peter, was to be a +lawyer; the other, Daniel, who wanted to become a sailor, was studying +day and night to prepare for his examination. And the old couple were +not a little proud of these “gentlemen,” their sons. They told everybody +who would listen, that, in return for the costly education they were +giving them, they expected them to marry large fortunes. + +Peter knew his parents so well, that he never mentioned Pauline to them. + +“When I am of age,” he said to himself, “it will be a different matter.” + +Alas! Why had not Pauline’s mother waited at least till then? + +Poor young girl! On the day on which she entered the castle of Ville- +Handry, she had sworn she would bury this love of hers so deep in +the innermost recesses of her heart, that it should never come up and +trouble her thoughts. And she had kept her word. + +But now it suddenly broke forth, more ardent, more powerful, than ever, +till it well-nigh overcame her, and crushed her--sweetly and sadly, like +the memory of lost days, and at the same time cruel and heart-rending, +like bitter remorse. + +What had become of him? When he had heard that she was going to marry +the count, he had written to her a letter full of despair, in which he +overwhelmed her with irony and contempt. Later, whether he had forgotten +her or not, he also had married; and the two lovers who had once hoped +to pursue their way through life leaning one upon the other now went +each their own way. + +For long hours the poor young wife struggled in the solitude of her +chamber against these ghosts of the past which crowded around her. But, +if ever a guilty thought called up a blush on her brow, she quickly +triumphed over it. Like a brave, loyal woman, she renewed her oath, and +swore to devote herself entirely to her husband. He had rescued her from +abject poverty, and bestowed upon her his fortune and his name; and she +owed it to him in return to make him happy. + +She needed all her courage, all her energy, to fulfil her vows; for +the count’s character lay fully open before her now, after two years of +married life. She knew precisely how narrow his mind was, how empty his +thoughts, and how cold his heart. She had long since found out that the +brilliant man of the world, whom everybody considered so clever, was +in reality an absolute nullity, incapable of any thought that was not +suggested to him by others, and at the same time full of overweening +self-esteem, and absurdly obstinate. + +The worst, however, was, that the count was very near hating his wife. +He had heard so many people say that she was not his equal, that he +finally believed it himself. Besides, he blamed her for the prestige +which he had lost. + +An ordinary woman would have shrunk from the difficult task which +Pauline had assumed, and would have thought that nothing more could be +expected of her than to keep sacred her marriage-vows. But the countess +was not an ordinary woman. Full of resignation, she meant to do more +than her duty. + +Fortunately, a cradle standing by her bedside made the task somewhat +easier. She had a daughter, her Henrietta; and upon that darling curly +head she built a thousand castles in the air. From that moment she +roused herself from the languor to which she had given way for nearly +two years, and set to work to study the count with that amazing sagacity +which a high stake is apt to give. + +A remark accidentally made by her husband cast a new light upon her +fate. One morning, when they had finished breakfast, he said,-- + +“Ah! Nancy was very fond of you. The day before she died, when she knew +she was going, she made me promise her to marry you.” + +This Nancy was the count’s former housekeeper. + +After this awkward speech, the poor countess saw clearly enough what +position that woman had really held at the castle. She understood how, +modestly keeping in the background, and sheltering herself under the +very humility of her position, she had been in truth the intellect, the +energy, and the strong will, of her master. Her influence over him had, +besides, been so powerful, that it had survived her, and that she had +been obeyed even in the grave. + +Although cruelly humiliated by this confession of her husband’s, the +countess had sufficient self-control not to blame him for his weakness. +She said to herself,-- + +“Well, be it so. For his happiness and for our peace, I will stoop to +play the part Nancy played.” + +This was more easily said than done; for the count was not the man to be +led openly, nor was he willing to listen to good advice, simply because +it was good. Irritable, jealous, and despotic, like all weak men, he +dreaded nothing so much as what he called an insult to his authority. +He meant to be master everywhere, in every thing, and forever. He was so +sensitive on this point, that his wife had only to show the shadow of a +purpose of her own, and he went instantly to work to oppose and prohibit +it. + +“I am not a weather-cock!” was one of his favorite sayings. + +Poor fellow! He did not know that those who turn to the opposite side of +the wind, nevertheless turn, as well as those who go with the wind. The +countess knew it; and this knowledge made her strong. After working for +many months patiently and cautiously, she thought she had learnt the +secret of managing him, and that henceforth she would be able to control +his will whenever she was in earnest. + +The opportunity to make the experiment came very soon. Although the +great people of the neighborhood had generally come round and treated +her quite fairly now, especially since she had become an heiress, the +countess found her position unpleasant, and was anxious to leave the +country. It recalled to her, besides, too many painful memories. There +were certain roads and lanes which she could never pass without a pang +at her heart. On the other hand, it was well known that the count had +sworn he would end his life in the province. He hated large cities; and +the mere idea of leaving his castle, where every thing was arranged to +suit his habits, made him seriously angry. + +People would not believe it, therefore, when report first arose that +he was going to leave Ville-Handry, that he had bought a town-house +in Paris and that he would shortly go there to establish himself +permanently in the capital. + +“It was much against the will of the countess,” he said, full of delight +at her disappointment. “She would not agree to it at all; but I am not a +weather-cock. I insisted on having my way, and she yielded at last.” + +So that in the latter part of October, in 1851, the Count and the +Countess Ville-Handry moved into the magnificent house in Varennes +Street, a princely mansion, which, however, did not cost them more than +a third of its actual value, as they happened to buy at a time when real +estate was very low. + +But it had been comparatively child’s play to bring the count to Paris; +the real difficulty was to keep him there. Nothing was more likely than +that, deprived of the active exercise and the fresh air he enjoyed in +the country, he should miss his many occupations and duties, and either +succumb to weariness, or seek refuge in dissipation. His wife foresaw +this difficulty, and looked for an object that might give the count +abundant employment and amusement. + +Already before leaving home she had dropped in his mind the seed of +that passion, which, in a man of fifty, can take the place of all +others,--ambition. Thus he came to Paris with the secret desire and the +hope of becoming a leader in politics, and making his mark in some great +affair of state. + +The countess however, aware of the dangers which beset a man who +ventures upon such slippery ground, determined first to examine the +condition of things so as to be able to warn him in time. Fortunately +her fortune and her name were of great service to her in this +enterprise. She managed to assemble at her house all the celebrities of +the day. Her relations helped her; and soon her Wednesdays and Saturdays +became famous in Paris. People exerted themselves to the utmost to +obtain an invitation to her state dinners, or her smaller parties on +Sundays. Her house in Varennes Street was looked upon as neutral ground, +where political intrigues and party strife were alike tabooed. The +countess spent a whole winter in making her observations. + +The world, seeing her sit modestly by her fireside, thought she was +wholly occupied with her pretty daughter, Henrietta, who was always +playing or reading by her side. But she was all the time listening, and +trying, with all her mental powers, to understand the great questions +of the day. She studied characters; watched the passions of some, and +discovered the cunning tricks of others, ever anxious to find out what +enemies she would have to fear, and what allies to conciliate. Like one +of those ill-taught professors who study in the morning what they mean +to teach in the afternoon, she prepared herself for the lessons which +she soon meant to give. Fortunately her apprenticeship was short, thanks +to her superior intellect, her womanly cleverness, and rare talents +which no one suspected. + +She soon reaped the fruit of her labors. + +The next winter the count, who had so far kept aloof from politics, +came out with his opinions. He soon made his mark, aided by his fine +appearance, his elegant manners, and imperturbable self-possession. He +spoke in public, and made an impression by his good common-sense. +He advised others, and they were struck by his sagacity. He had soon +enthusiastic partisans, and, of course, as violent adversaries. His +friends encouraged him to become the leader of his party; and he worked +day and night to achieve that end. + +“Unfortunately I have to pay for it at home,” he said to his intimate +friends; “for my wife is one of those timid women who cannot understand +that men are made for the excitement of public life. I should be still +in the province, if I had listened to her.” + +She enjoyed her work in quiet delight. The greater the success of her +husband in the world, the prouder she became of her own usefulness to +him. Her feelings were very much those of a dramatic poet who hears the +applause given to the characters which he has created. + +But there was this wonderful feature in her work,--that nobody suspected +her; no one, not even her own child. She wanted Henrietta, as little as +the world, to know what she was to her husband; and she taught her not +only to love him as her father, but to respect and admire him as a man +of eminence. Of course, the count was the very last man to suspect any +thing. He might have been told all, and he would have believed nothing. + +He fancied he had discovered himself the whole line of proceeding which +his wife had so carefully traced out for him. In the full sincerity +of his heart, he believed he had composed and written out the speeches +which she drew up for him; and the articles for the newspapers, and the +letters, which she dictated, appeared to him all to have sprung from his +own fertile brains. He was even sometimes surprised at the want of good +sense in his wife, and pointed out to her, quite ironically, that +the steps from which she tried hardest to dissuade him were the most +successful he took. But no irony could turn the countess from the path +which she had traced out for herself; nor did she ever allow a word or +even a smile to escape her, that might have betrayed her secret. When +her husband became sarcastic, she bowed her head, and said nothing. But, +the more he gloried in his utter nullity, the more she delighted in +her work, and found ample compensation in the approval of her own +conscience. + +The count had been so exceedingly good as to take her when she was +penniless; she owed him the historic name she bore and a large fortune; +but, in return, she had given him, and without his being aware of it, +a position of some eminence. She had made him happy in the only way in +which a small and ordinary man could be made happy,--by gratifying his +vanity. + +Now she was no longer under obligations to him. + +“Yes,” she said to herself, “we are quits, fairly quits!” + +Now also, she reproached herself no longer for the long hours during +which her thoughts, escaping from the control of her will, had turned to +the man of her early choice. + +Poor fellow! She had been his evil star. + +His life had been imbittered from the day on which he found himself +forsaken by her whom he loved better than life itself. He had given up +every thing. + +His parents had “hunted up” an heiress, as they called it, and he had +married her dutifully. But the good old people had been unlucky. The +bride, chosen among a thousand, had brought their son a fortune of a +hundred thousand dollars; but she was a bad woman. And after eight years +of wretched, intolerable married life, Peter Champcey had shot himself, +unable to bear any longer his domestic misfortunes, and the infidelity +of his wife. + +He had, however, avoided committing this crime at Angers, where he held +a high official position. He had gone to Rosiers, the house formerly +occupied by Pauline’s mother; and there, in a narrow lane, his body +was found by some peasants coming home from market. The ball had so +fearfully disfigured his face, that at first no one recognized him; and +the accident made a terrible sensation. + +The countess heard of it first through her husband. He could not +understand, he said, how a man in good position, with a bright future +before him, and a large income to support him, could thus kill himself. + +“And to choose such a strange place for his suicide!” he added. “It is +evident the man was insane.” + +But the countess did not hear this. She had fainted. She understood but +too well why Peter had wished to die in that lane overshadowed by old +elm-trees. + +“I killed him,” she thought, “I killed him!” + +The blow was so sudden and so severe, that she came near dying. +Fortunately her mother died nearly at the same time; and this misfortune +helped to explain her utter prostration and deep grief. + +Her mother had been gradually fading away, after having had all +she desired, and living in real luxury during her last years. Her +selfishness was so intense, that she never became aware of the cruelty +with which she had sacrificed her daughter. + +Sacrificed, however, she really had been; for never did woman suffer +what the countess endured from the day on which her lover’s suicide +added bitter remorse to all her former grief. What would have become of +her, if her child had not bound her to life! But she resolved to live; +she felt that she was bound to live for Henrietta’s sake. + +Thus she struggled on quite alone, for she had not a soul in whom she +could confide, when one afternoon, as she was going down stairs, a +servant came to tell her that there was a young man in naval uniform +below, who desired to have the honor of waiting upon her. + +The servant handed her his card; she took it, and read,-- + + +“Daniel Champcey.” + + +It was Daniel, Peter’s brother. Pale as death, the countess turned as if +to escape. + +“What must I say?” asked the servant, rather surprised at the emotion +shown by his mistress. + +The poor woman felt as if she was going to faint. + +“Show him up,” she replied in a scarcely audible voice,--“show him up.” + +When she looked up again, there stood before her a young man, twenty- +three or twenty-four years old, with a frank and open face, and clear, +bright eyes, beaming with intelligence and energy. + +The countess pointed at a chair near her; for she could not have uttered +a word to save her daughter’s life. + +He could not help noticing her embarrassment; but he did not guess the +cause. Peter had never mentioned Pauline’s name in his father’s house. + +So he sat down, and explained why he came, showing neither embarrassment +nor forwardness. + +As soon as he had graduated at the Naval Academy, he had been made a +midshipman on board “The Formidable,” and there he was still. A younger +man had recently been wrongly promoted over him; and he had asked for +leave of absence to appeal to the secretary of the navy. He felt +quite sure of the justice of his claims; but he also knew that strong +recommendations never spoil a good cause. In fact, he hoped that Count +Ville-Handry, of whose kindness and great influence he had heard much, +would consent to indorse his claims. + +Gradually, and while listening to him, the countess recovered her +calmness. + +“My husband will be happy to serve a countryman of his,” she replied; +“and he will tell you so himself, if you will be kind enough to wait for +him, and stay to dinner.” + +Daniel did stay. At table he was placed by the side of Henrietta, who +was then fifteen years old; and the countess, seeing these two young +and handsome people side by side, was suddenly struck with an idea which +seemed to her nothing less than inspiration from on high. Why might she +not intrust the future happiness of her daughter to the brother of the +poor man who had loved her so dearly? Thus she might make some amends +for her own conduct, and show some respect to his memory. + +“Yes,” she said to herself that night, before falling asleep, “it must +be so. Daniel shall be Henrietta’s husband.” + +Thus it came about, that, only a fortnight later, Count Ville-Handry +said to one of his intimate friends, pointing out Daniel,-- + +“That young Champcey is a very remarkable young man; he has a great +future before him. And one of these days, when he is a lieutenant, and +a few years older, if it should so happen that he liked Henrietta, and +asked me for my consent, I should not say no. The countess might think +and say of it what she chooses, I am master.” + +After that time Daniel became, unfortunately, a constant visitor at the +house in Varennes Street. + +He had not only obtained ample satisfaction at headquarters, but, by the +powerful influence of certain high personages, he had been temporarily +assigned to duty in the bureau of the navy department, with the promise +of a better position in active service hereafter. + +Thus Daniel and Henrietta saw a great deal of each other, and, to all +appearances, began to love each other. + +“O God!” thought the countess, “why are they not a few years older?” + +The poor lady had for some months been troubled by dismal presentiments. +She felt as if she would not live long; and she trembled at the idea of +leaving her child without any other protector but the count. + +If Henrietta had at least known the truth, and, instead of admiring her +father as a man of superior ability, learned to mistrust his judgment! +A hundred times the countess was on the point of revealing her secret. +Alas! her great delicacy always kept her from doing so. + +One night, as she returned from a great ball, she suddenly was seized +with vertigo. She did not think much of it, but sent for a cup of tea. + +When it came, she was standing before the fireplace, undoing her hair; +but, instead of taking it, she suddenly raised her hand to her throat, +uttered a hoarse sound, and fell back. + +They raised her up. In an instant the whole house was alive. They sent +for the doctors. All was in vain. + +The Countess Ville-Handry had died from disease of the heart. + + + + +III. + +Henrietta, roused by the noise all over the house, the voices in the +passages, and the steps on the staircase, and suspecting that some +accident had happened, had rushed at once into her mother’s room. + +There she had heard the doctors utter the fatal words,-- + +“All is over!” + +There were five or six of them in the room; and one of them, his eyes +swollen from sleeplessness, and overcome with fatigue, had drawn the +count into a corner, and, pressing his hands, repeated over and over +again,-- + +“Courage, my dear sir, courage!” + +He, overcome, with downcast eye, and cold perspiration on his pallid +brow, did not understand him; for he continued to stammer incessantly,-- + +“It is nothing, I hope. Did you not say it was nothing?” + +There are misfortunes so terrible, so overwhelming in their suddenness, +that the stunned mind refuses to believe them, and denies their +genuineness in spite of their actual presence. + +How could any one imagine or comprehend that the countess, who but a +moment ago was standing there full of life, in perfect health, and +the whole vigor of her years, apparently perfectly happy, smiling, and +beloved by all,--how could one conceive that she had all at once ceased +to exist? + +They had laid her on her bed in her ball costume,--a blue satin dress +trimmed with lace. The flowers were still in her hair; and the blow +had come with such suddenness, that, even in death, she retained the +appearance of life; she was still warm, her skin transparent, and her +limbs supple. Even her eyes, still wide open, retained their expression, +and betrayed the last sensation that had filled her heart,--terror. It +looked as if she had had at that last moment a revelation of the future +which her too great cautiousness had prepared for her daughter. + +“My mother is not dead; oh, no! she cannot be dead!” exclaimed +Henrietta. And she went from one doctor to the other, urging them, +beseeching them, to find some means-- + +What were they doing there, looking so blank, instead of acting? Were +they not going to restore her,--they whose business it was to cure +people, and who surely had saved a number of people? They turned away +from her, distressed by her terrible grief, expressing their inability +to help by a gesture; and then the poor girl went back to the bed, and, +bending over her mother, watched with a painfully bewildered air for her +return to life. It seemed to her as if she felt that noble heart still +beat under her hand, and as if those lips, sealed forever by death, must +speak again to re-assure her. + +They attempted to take her away from that heartrending sight; they +begged her to go to her room; but she insisted upon staying. They tried +to remove her by force; but she clung to the bed, and vowed that they +should tear her to pieces sooner than make her leave her mother. + +At last, however, the truth broke upon her. She sank down upon her knees +by the side of the bed, hiding her face in the drapery, and repeating +with fierce sobs,-- + +“My mother, my darling mother!” + +It was nearly morning, and the pale dawn was stealing into the room, +when at last some sisters of charity came, who had been sent for; and +then a couple of priests; a little later (it was towards the end of +January) one of the count’s friends appeared, who undertook all those +sickening preparations which our civilization demands in such cases. On +the next day the funeral took place. + +More than two hundred persons called to condole with the count, +twenty-five or thirty ladies came and kissed Henrietta, calling her +their poor dear child. + +Then horses were heard in the court-yard, coachmen quarrelling; orders +were given; and at last the hearse rolled away solemnly--and that was +all. + +Henrietta wept and prayed in her chamber. + +Late in the day, the count and Henrietta sat down at table alone for the +first time in their lives; but they did not eat a morsel. How could they +do it, seeing before them the empty seat, once occupied by her who was +the life of the whole house, and now never to be filled again? + +And thus, for a long time, their meals were a steady reminder of their +loss. During the day they were seen wandering about the house, without +any apparent purpose, as if looking or hoping for something to happen. + +But there was another true and warm heart, far from that house, which +had been sorely wounded by the death of the countess. Daniel had loved +her like a mother; and in his heart a mysterious voice warned him, that, +in losing her, he had well-nigh lost Henrietta. + +He had called several times at the house of mourning; but it was only a +fortnight later that he was admitted. When Henrietta saw him, she felt +sorry she had not let him come in before. He had apparently suffered as +much as she; he looked pale; and his eyes were red. + +They remained for some time seated opposite each other, without saying +a word, but deeply moved, and feeling instinctively that their common +grief bound them more firmly than ever to each other. + +The count, in the meantime, walked up and down in the large room. He was +so much changed, that one might have failed to recognize him. There was +a strange want of steadiness in his movements; he looked almost like a +paralytic, whose crutches had suddenly broken down. Was he conscious +of the immense loss which he had suffered? His vanity was too great to +render that very probable. + +“I shall master my grief as soon as I go back to work,” he said. + +He ought not to have done it; but he resumed his duties as a politician +at a time when they had become unusually difficult, and when great +things were expected of him. Two or three absurd, ridiculous, in fact +unpardonable blunders, ruined him forever. He lost his reputation as a +statesman, and with it his influence. + +As yet, however, his reputation remained uninjured. No one suspected the +truth. They attributed the sudden failure of his faculties to the great +sorrow that had befallen him in the death of his wife. + +“Who would have thought that he had loved her so deeply?” they asked one +another. + +Henrietta was as much misled as the others, and perhaps even more. Her +respect and her admiration, so far from being diminished, only increased +day by day. She loved him all the more dearly as she watched the +apparent effect of his incurable grief. + +He was really deeply grieved, but only by his fall. How had it come +about? He tortured his mind in vain; he could not find a plausible +explanation, and said over and over again,-- + +“It is perfectly inexplicable.” + +He talked of regular plots, of a coalition of his enemies, of the black +ingratitude of men, and their fickleness. At first he had thought of +going back to the country. But gradually, as day followed day, and +weeks grew into months, his wounded vanity began to heal; he forgot his +misfortunes, and adopted new habits of life. + +He was a great deal at his club now, rode much on horseback, went to the +theatres, and dined with his friends. Henrietta was delighted; for she +had at one time begun to be seriously concerned for her father’s health. +But she was not a little amazed when she saw him lay aside his mourning, +and exchange his simple costumes, suitable to his age, for the eccentric +fashions of the day, wearing brilliant waistcoats and fancy-colored +trousers. + +Some days later matters grew worse. + +One morning Count Ville-Handry, who was quite gray, appeared at +breakfast with jet black beard and hair. Henrietta could not restrain +an expression of amazement. But he smiled, and said with considerable +embarrassment,-- + +“My servant is making an experiment; he thinks this goes better with my +complexion, and makes me look younger.” + +Evidently something strange had occurred in the count’s life. But what +was it? + +Henrietta, although ignorant of the world, and at that time innocence +personified, was, nevertheless, a woman, and hence had the keen instinct +of her sex, which is better than all experience. She reflected, and she +thought she could guess what had happened. + +After hesitating for three days, the poor girl, saddened rather than +frightened, confided her troubles to Daniel. But she had only spoken a +few words when he interrupted her, and, blushing deeply, said,-- + +“Do not trouble yourself about that, Miss Henrietta; and, whatever your +father may do, do not mind it.” + +That advice was more easily given than followed; for the count’s ways +became daily more extraordinary. He had gradually drifted away from +his old friends and his wife’s friends, and seemed to prefer to their +high-bred society the company of very curious people of all kinds. A +number of young men came in the forenoon on horseback, and in the most +unceremonious costumes. They came in smoking their cigars, and asked at +once for liquors and absinthe. In the afternoon, another set of men made +their appearance,--vulgar and arrogant people, with huge whiskers and +enormous watch-chains, who gesticulated vehemently, and were on most +excellent terms with the servants. They were closeted with the count; +and their discussions were so loud, they could be heard all over the +house. + +What were the grave discussions that made so much noise? The count +undertook to enlighten his daughter. He told her, that, having been +ill-treated in politics, he intended to devote himself henceforth to +grand enterprises, and hoped confidently to realize an enormous fortune, +while, at the same time, rendering great service to certain branches of +industry. + +A fortune? Why should he want money? What with his own estate, and what +with his wife’s fortune, he had already an income of a hundred thousand +dollars. Was that not quite enough for a man of sixty-five and for a +young girl who did not spend a thousand a year on her toilet? + +Henrietta asked him timidly, for she was afraid of hurting her father’s +feelings, why he wanted more money. + +He laughed heartily, tapped her cheek playfully, and said,-- + +“Ah, you would like to rule your papa, would you?” + +Then he added more seriously,-- + +“Am I so old, my little lady, that I ought to go into retirement? Have +you, also, gone over to my enemies?” + +“Oh, dear papa!” + +“Well, my child, then you ought to know that a man such as I am cannot +condemn himself to inactivity, unless he wants to die. I do not want any +more money; what I want is an outlet for my energy and my talents.” + +This was so sensible a reply, that both Henrietta and Daniel felt quite +re-assured. + +Both had been taught by the countess to look upon her husband as a man +of genius; hence they felt sure that he had only to undertake a thing, +and he was sure to succeed. Besides, Daniel hoped that such grave +matters of business would keep the count from playing the fashionable +young man. + +But it seemed as if nothing could turn him from this folly; he became +daily younger and faster. He wore the most eccentric hats on one ear. +He ordered his coats to be made in the very last fashion; and never +went out without a camellia or a rosebud in his buttonhole. He no longer +contented himself with dyeing his hair, but actually began to rouge, +and used such strong perfumes, that one might have followed his track +through the streets by the odors he diffused around him. + +At times he would sit for hours in an arm-chair, his eyes fixed on the +ceiling, his brow knit, and his thoughts apparently bent upon some grave +question. If he was spoken to, he started like a criminal caught in the +act. He who formerly prided himself on his magnificent appetite (he +saw in it a resemblance to Louis XIV.) now hardly ate any thing. On the +other hand, he was forever complaining of oppression in the chest, and +of palpitation of the heart. + +His daughter repeatedly found him with tears in his eyes,--big tears, +which passed through his dyed beard, and fell like drops of ink on his +white shirt-front. Then, again, these attacks of melancholy would be +followed by sudden outbursts of joy. He would rub his hands till they +pained him; he would sing and almost dance with delight. + +Now and then a commissionaire (it was always the same man) came and +brought him a letter. The count tore it from his hands, threw him a +gold-piece, and went to shut himself up in his study. + +“Poor papa!” said Henrietta to Daniel. “There are moments when I tremble +for his mind.” + +At last, one evening after dinner, when he had drunk more than usually, +perhaps in order to gain courage, he drew his daughter on his knee, and +said in his softest voice,-- + +“Confess, my dear child, that in your innermost heart you have more than +once called me a very bad father. I dare say you blame me for leaving +you so constantly alone here in this large house, where you must die +from sheer weariness.” + +Such a charge would have been but too well founded. Henrietta was +left more completely to herself than the daughter of a workman, whose +business keeps him from home all day long. The workman, however, takes +his child out, at least on Sundays. + +“I am never weary, papa,” replied Henrietta. + +“Really? Why, how do you occupy yourself?” + +“Oh! in the first place I attend to the housekeeping, and try my best +to make home pleasant to you. Then I embroider, I sew, I study. In the +afternoon my music-teacher comes, and my English master. At night I +read.” + +The count smiled; but it was a forced smile. + +“Never mind!” he broke in; “such a lonely life cannot go on. A girl +of your age stands in need of some one to advise her, to pet her,--an +affectionate and devoted friend. That is why I have been thinking of +giving you another mother.” + +Henrietta drew back her arm, which she had wound round her father’s +neck; and, rising suddenly, she said,-- + +“You think of marrying again?” + +He turned his head aside, hesitated moment, and then replied,-- + +“Yes.” + +At first the poor girl could not utter a word, so great were her stupor, +her indignation, her bitter grief; then she made an effort, and said in +a pained voice,-- + +“Do you really tell me so, papa? What! you would bring another wife +to this house, which is still alive with the voice of her whom we have +lost? You would make her sit down in the chair in which she used to sit, +and let her rest her feet on the cushion which she embroidered? Perhaps +you would even want me to call her mamma? Oh, dear papa! surely you do +not think of such profanation!” + +The count’s trouble was pitiful to behold. And yet, if Henrietta had +been less excited, she would have read in his eye that his mind was made +up. + +“What I mean to do is done in your behalf, my dear child,” he stammered +out at last. “I am old; I may die; we have no near relations; what would +become of you without a friend?” + +She blushed crimson; but she said timidly,-- + +“But, papa, there is M. Daniel Champcey.” + +“Well?” + +The count’s eyes shone with delight as he saw that she was falling into +the pit he had dug for her. The poor girl went on,-- + +“I thought--I had hoped--poor mamma had told me--in fact, since you had +allowed M. Daniel to come here”-- + +“You thought I intended to make him my son-in-law?” + +She made no answer. + +“That was in fact the idea your mother had. She had certainly very odd +notions, against which I had to use the whole strength of my firm will. +A sailor is a sorry kind of husband, my dear child; a word from his +minister may part him for years from his wife.” + +Henrietta remained silent. She began to understand the nature of the +bargain which her father proposed to her, and it made her indignant. +He thought he had said enough for this time, and left her with these +words,-- + +“Consider, my child; for my part, I will also think of it.” + +What should she do? There were a hundred ways; but which to choose? +Finding herself alone, she took a pen, and for the first time in her +life she wrote to Daniel:-- + + +“I must speak to you _instantly_. Pray come. + +“Henrietta.” + + +She gave the letter to a servant, ordering him to carry it at once +to its address; and then she waited in a state of feverish anxiety, +counting the minutes. + +Daniel Champcey had, in a house not far from the university, three +rooms, the windows of which looked out upon the gardens of an adjoining +mansion, where the flowers bloomed brilliantly, and the birds sang +joyously. There he spent almost all the time which was not required +by his official duties. A walk in company with his friend, Maxime de +Brevan; a visit to the theatre, when a particularly fine piece was to +be given; and two or three calls a week at Count Ville-Handry’s +house,--these were his sole and certainly very harmless amusements. + +“A genuine old maid, that sailor is,” said the concierge of the house. + +The truth is, that, if Daniel’s natural refinement had not kept him +from contact with what Parisians call “pleasure,” his ardent love for +Henrietta would have prevented his falling into bad company. A pure, +noble love, such as his, based upon perfect confidence in her to whom +it is given, is quite sufficient to fill up a life; for it makes the +present delightful, and paints the distant horizon of the future in all +the bright colors of the rainbow. + +But, the more he loved Henrietta, the more he felt bound to be worthy of +her, and to deserve her affections. He was not ambitious. He had chosen +a profession which he loved. He had a considerable fortune of his own, +and was thus, by his private income and his pay as an officer, secured +against want. What more could he desire? Nothing for himself. + +But Henrietta belonged to a great house; she was the daughter of a man +who had filled a high position; she was immensely rich; and, even if he +had married her only with her own fortune, she would have brought him +ten times as much as he had. Daniel did not want Henrietta, on the +blessed day when she should become his own, to have any thing to wish +for or to regret. Hence he worked incessantly, indefatigably, waking up +every morning anew with the determination to make himself one of those +names which weigh more than the oldest parchments, and to win one +of those positions which make a wife as proud as she is fond of her +husband. Fortunately, the times were favorable to his ambition. The +French navy was in a state of transformation; but the marine was as yet +unreformed, waiting, apparently, for the hand of a man of genius. + +And why might not he be that man? Supported by his love, he saw nothing +impossible in that thought, and fancied he could overcome all obstacles. + +“Do you see that d---- little fellow, there, with his quiet ways?” + said Admiral Penhoel to his young officers. “Well, look at him; he’ll +checkmate you all.” + +Daniel was busy in his study, finishing a paper for the minister, when +the count’s servant came and brought him Henrietta’s letter. He knew +that something extraordinary must have happened to induce Henrietta, +with her usual reserve, to take such a step, and, above all, to write to +him in such brief but urgent terms. + +“Has any thing happened at the house?” he asked the servant. + +“No, sir, not that I know.” + +“The count is not sick?” + +“No, sir.” + +“And Miss Henrietta?” + +“My mistress is perfectly well.” + +Daniel breathed more freely. + +“Tell Miss Henrietta I am coming at once; and make haste, or I shall be +there before you.” + +As soon as the servant had left, Daniel dressed, and a moment later he +was out of the house. As he walked rapidly up the street in which the +count lived, he thought,-- + +“I have no doubt taken the alarm too soon; perhaps she has only some +commission for me.” + +But he was beset with dark presentiments, and had to tell himself that +that was not likely to be the case. He felt worse than ever, when, upon +being shown into the drawing-room, he saw Henrietta sitting by the fire, +deadly pale, with her eyes all red and inflamed from weeping. + +“What is the matter with you?” he cried, without waiting for the door to +be closed behind him. “What has happened?” + +“Something terrible, M. Daniel.” + +“Tell me, pray, what. You frighten me.” + +“My father is going to marry again.” + +At first Daniel was amazed. Then, recalling at once the gradual +transformation of the count, he said,-- + +“Oh, oh, oh! That explains every thing.” + +But Henrietta interrupted him; and, making a great effort, she repeated +to him in a half-stifled voice almost literally her conversation with +her father. When she had ended, Daniel said,-- + +“You have guessed right, Miss Henrietta. Your father evidently does +propose to you a bargain.” + +“Ah! but that is horrible.” + +“He wanted you to understand, that, if you would consent to his +marriage, he would consent”-- + +Shocked at what he was going to add, he stopped; but Henrietta said +boldly,-- + +“To ours, you mean,--to ours? Yes, so I understood it; and that was my +reason for sending for you to advise me.” + +Poor fellow! She was asking him to seal his fate. + +“I think you ought to consent!” he stammered out. + +She rose, trembling with indignation, and replied,-- + +“Never, never!” + +Daniel was overcome by this sudden shock. Never. He saw all his hopes +dashed in an instant, his life’s happiness destroyed forever, Henrietta +lost to him. But the very imminence of the danger restored to him his +energy. He mastered his grief, and said in an almost calm voice,-- + +“I beseech you, let me explain to you why I advised you so. Believe me, +your father does not want your consent at all. You cannot do without his +consent; but he can marry without asking you for yours. There is no law +which authorizes children to oppose the follies of their parents. What +your father wants is your silent approval, the certainty that his +new wife will be kindly received. If you refuse, he will go on, +nevertheless, and not mind your objections.” + +“Oh!” + +“I am, unfortunately, but too sure of that. If he spoke to you of his +plans, you may be sure he had made up his mind. Your resistance +will lead only to our separation. He might possibly forgive you; but +she--Don’t you think she should avail herself to the utmost of her +influence over him? Who can foresee to what extremities she might be led +by her hatred against you? And she must be a dangerous woman, Henrietta, +a woman who is capable of any thing.” + +“Why?” + +He hesitated for a moment, not daring to speak out fully what he +thought; and at last he said slowly, as if weighing his words,-- + +“Because, because this marriage cannot be any thing else but a barefaced +speculation. Your father is immensely rich; she wants his fortune.” + +Daniel’s reasoning was so sensible, and he pleaded his cause with such +eagerness, that Henrietta’s resolution was evidently shaken. + +“You want me to yield?” she asked. + +“I beseech you to do it.” + +She shook her head sadly, and said in a tone of utter dejection,-- + +“Very well. It shall be done as you wish it. I shall not object to this +profanation. But you may be sure, my weakness will do us no good.” + +It struck ten. She rose, offered her hand to Daniel, and said,-- + +“I will see you to-morrow evening. By that time I shall know, and I will +tell you, the name of the woman whom father is going to marry; for I +shall ask him who she is.” + +She was spared that trouble. Next morning, the first words of the count +were,-- + +“Well, have you thought it over?” + +She looked at him till he felt compelled to turn his head away; and then +she replied in a tone of resignation,-- + +“Father, you are master here. I should not tell you the truth, if I said +I was not going to suffer cruelly at the idea of a stranger coming here +to--But I shall receive her with all due respect.” + +Ah! The count was not prepared for such a speedy consent. + +“Do not speak of respect,” he said. “Tell me that you will be tender, +affectionate, and kind. Ah, if you knew her, Henrietta! She is an +angel.” + +“What is her age?” + +“Twenty-five.” + +The count read in his daughter’s face that she thought his new wife much +too young for him; and therefore he added, quickly,-- + +“Your mother was two years younger when I married her.” + +That was so; but he forgot that that was twenty years ago. + +“However,” he added, “you will see her; I shall ask her to let me +present you to her. She _is_ a foreigner, of excellent family, very +rich, marvellously clever and beautiful; and her name is Sarah Brandon.” + +That evening, when Henrietta told Daniel the name of her future +mother-in-law, he started with an air of utter despair, and said,-- + +“Great God! If Maxime de Brevan is not mistaken, that is worse than any +thing we could possibly anticipate.” + + + + +IV. + +When Henrietta saw how the young officer was overcome by the mere +mention of that name, Sarah Brandon, she felt the blood turn to ice in +her veins. She knew perfectly well that a man like Daniel was not likely +to be so utterly overwhelmed unless there was something fearful, unheard +of, in the matter. + +“Do you know the woman, Daniel?” + +But he, regretting his want of self-possession, was already thinking how +he could make amends for his imprudence. + +“I swear to you,” he began. + +“Oh, don’t swear! I see you know who she is.” + +“I know nothing about her.” + +“But”-- + +“It is true I have heard people talk of her once, a _long time ago_.” + +“Whom?” + +“One of my friends, Maxime de Brevan, a fine, noble fellow.” + +“What sort of a woman is she?” + +“Ah, me! that I cannot tell you. Maxime happened to mention her just +in passing; and I never thought that one of these days I should--If +I seemed to be so very much surprised just now, it was because I +remembered, all of a sudden, a very ugly story in which Maxime said she +had been involved, and then”-- + +He was ridiculous in his inability to tell a fib; so, when he found that +he was talking nonsense, he turned his head away to avoid Henrietta’s +eyes. She interrupted him, and said reproachfully,-- + +“Do you really think I am not strong enough to hear the truth?” + +At first he did not reply. Overcome by the strange position in which he +found himself, he looked for a way to escape, and found none. At last he +said,-- + +“Miss Henrietta, you must give me time before I tell you any more. I +know nothing positive; and I dare say I am unnecessarily alarmed. I will +tell you all as soon as I am better informed.” + +“When will that be?” + +“To-night, if I can find Maxime de Brevan at home, as I hope I shall do; +if I miss him, you must wait till to-morrow.” + +“And if your suspicions turn out to be well founded; if what you fear, +and hide from me now, is really so,--what must I do then?” + +Without a moment’s hesitation, he rose and said in a solemn voice,-- + +“I am not going to tell you again how I love you, Henrietta; I am not +going to tell you that to lose you would be death to me, and that in our +family we do not value life very highly; you know that, don’t you? But, +in spite of all that, if my fears should be well founded, as I apprehend +they are, I should not hesitate to say to you, whatever might be the +consequences, Henrietta, and even if we should have to part forever, we +must try our utmost, we must employ all possible means in our power, to +prevent a marriage between Count Ville-Handry and Sarah Brandon.” + +In spite of all her sufferings, Henrietta felt her heart bounding with +unspeakable happiness and joy. Ah! he deserved to be loved,--this man +whom her heart had freely chosen among them all,--this man who gave her +such an overwhelming proof of his love. She offered him her hand; and, +with her eyes beaming with enthusiasm and tenderness, she said,-- + +“And I, I swear by the sacred memory of my mother, that whatever may +happen, and whatever force they may choose to employ, I shall never +belong to any one but to you.” + +Daniel had seized her hand, and held it for some time pressed to his +lips. At last, when his rapture gave way to calmer thoughts, he said,-- + +“I must leave you at once, Henrietta, if I want to catch Maxime.” + +As he left, his head was in a whirl, his thoughts in a maze. His life +and his happiness were at stake; and a single word would decide his fate +in spite of all he could do. + +A cab was passing; he hailed it, jumped in, and cried to the driver,-- + +“Go quick, I say! You shall have five francs! No. 61 Rue Laffitte!” + +That was the house where Maxime de Brevan lived. + +He was a man of thirty or thirty-five years, remarkably well made, +light-haired, wearing a full beard, with a bright eye, and pleasing +face. Mixing on intimate terms with the men who make up what is called +high life, and with whom pleasure is the only occupation, he was very +popular with them all. They said he was a man that could always be +relied upon, at all times ready to render you a service when it was +in his power, a pleasant companion, and an excellent second whenever a +friend had to fight a duel. + +In fine, neither slander nor calumny had ever attacked his reputation. +And yet, far from following the advice of the philosopher, who tells us +to keep our life from the eye of the public, Maxime de Brevan seemed to +take pains to let everybody into his secrets. He was so anxious to tell +everybody where he had been, and what he had been doing, that you might +have imagined he was always preparing to prove an alibi. + +Thus he told the whole world that the Brevans came originally from the +province of Maine, and that he was the last, the sole representative, +of that old family. Not that he prided himself particularly on his +ancestors; he acknowledged frankly that there was very little left of +their ancient splendor; in fact, nothing but a bare support. But he +never said what this “support” amounted to; his most intimate friends +could not tell whether he had one thousand or ten thousand a year. So +much only was certain, that, to his great honor and glory, he had solved +the great problem of preserving his independence and his dignity while +associating, a comparatively poor man, with the richest young men of +Paris. + +His rooms were simple and unpretending; and he kept but a single +servant--his carriage he hired by the month. + +How had Maxime Brevan become Daniel’s friend? In the simplest possible +way. They had been introduced to each other at a great ball by a common +friend of theirs, a lieutenant in the navy. About one o’clock in +the morning they had gone home together; and as the moon was shining +brightly, the weather was mild, and the walking excellent, they had +loitered about the Place de la Concorde while smoking their cigars. + +Had Maxime really felt such warm sympathy for his friend? Perhaps so. At +all events, Daniel had been irresistibly attracted by the peculiar ways +of Maxime, and especially by the cool stoicism with which he spoke +of his genteel poverty. Then they had met again, and finally became +intimate. + +Brevan was just dressing for the opera when Daniel entered his room. He +uttered a cry of delight when he saw him, as he always did. + +“What!” he said, “the hermit student from the other side of the river +in this worldly region, and at this hour? What good wind blows you over +here?” + +Then, suddenly noticing Daniel’s terrified appearance, he added,-- + +“But what am I talking about? You look frightened out of your wits. +What’s the matter?” + +“A great misfortune, I fear,” replied Daniel. + +“How so? What is it?” + +“And I want you to help me.” + +“Don’t you know that I am at your service?” + +Daniel certainly thought so. + +“I thank you in advance, my dear Maxime; but I do not wish to give you +too much trouble. I have a long story to tell you, and you are just +going out”-- + +But Brevan interrupted him, shaking his head kindly, and saying,-- + +“I was only going out for want of something better to do, upon my word! +So sit down, and tell me all.” + +Daniel had been so overcome by terror, and the fear that he might +possibly lose Henrietta, that he had run to his friend without +considering what he was going to tell him. Now, when the moment came to +speak, he was silent. The thought had just occurred to him, that Count +Ville-Handry’s secret was not his own, and that he was in duty bound not +to betray it, if possible, even if he could have absolutely relied upon +his friend’s discretion. + +He did not reply, therefore, but walked up and down the room, seeking in +vain some plausible excuse, and suffering perfect agony. This continued +so long, that Maxime, who had of late heard much of diseases of the +brain, asked himself if Daniel could possibly have lost his mind. + +No; for suddenly his friend stopped before him, and said in a short, +sharp tone,-- + +“First of all, Maxime, swear that you will never, under any +circumstances, say to any human being a word of what I am going to tell +you.” + +Thoroughly mystified, Brevan raised his hand, and said,-- + +“I pledge my word of honor!” + +This promise seemed to re-assure Daniel; and, when he thought he had +recovered sufficient control over himself, he said,-- + +“Some months ago, my dear friend, I heard you telling somebody a +horrible story concerning a certain Mrs. Sarah Brandon”-- + +“Miss, if you please, not Mrs.” + +“Well, it does not matter. You know her?” + +“Certainly. Everybody knows her.” + +Daniel did not notice the extreme self-conceit with which these words +were uttered. + +“All right, then. Now, Maxime, I conjure you, by our friendship, tell +me frankly what you think of her. What kind of a woman is this Miss +Brandon?” + +His features, as well as his voice, betrayed such extreme excitement, +that Brevan was almost stunned. At last he said,-- + +“But, my dear fellow, you ask me that in a manner”-- + +“I must know the truth, I tell you. It is of the utmost importance to +me.” + +Brevan, struck by a sudden thought, touched his forehead, and +exclaimed,-- + +“Oh, I see! You are in love with Sarah!” + +Daniel would never have thought of such a subterfuge in order to avoid +mentioning the name of Count Ville-Handry; but, seeing it thus offered +to him, he determined to profit by the opportunity. + +“Well, yes, suppose it is so,” he said with a sigh. + +Maxime raised his hands to heaven, and said in a tone of painful +conviction,-- + +“In that case you are right. You ought to inquire; for you may be close +upon a terrible misfortune.” + +“Ah, is she really so formidable?” + +Maxime shrugged his shoulders, as if he were impatient at being called +upon to prove a well-known fact, and said,-- + +“I should think so.” + +There seemed to be no reason why Daniel should persist in his questions +after that. Those words ought to have been explanation enough. +Nevertheless he said in a subdued voice,-- + +“Pray explain, Maxime! Don’t you know, that, as I lead a very quiet +life, I know nothing?” + +Brevan, looking more serious than he had ever done, rose and replied, +leaning against the mantlepiece,-- + +“What would you have me tell you? It is only fools who call out to +lovers to beware; and to warn a man who will not be warned, is useless. +Are you really in love with Miss Sarah, or are you not? If you are, +nothing that I could say would change your mind. Suppose I were to tell +you that this Sarah is a wretched creature, an infamous forger, who has +already the death of three poor devils on her conscience, who loved her +as you do? Suppose I told you worse things than these, and could prove +them? Do you know what would happen? You would press my hand with +effusion. You would overwhelm me with thanks, tears in your eye. You +would vow, in the candor of your heart, that you are forever cured, and, +when you leave me”-- + +“Well?” + +“You would rush to your beloved, tell her all I said, and beseech her to +clear herself of all these charges.” + +“I beg your pardon; I am not one of those men who”-- + +But Brevan was getting more and more excited. He interrupted his friend, +and said,-- + +“Nonsense! You are a man like all other men. Passion does not reason, +does not calculate; and that is the secret of its strength. As long as +we have a spark of commonsense left, we are not really in love. That is +so, I tell you; and no will, no amount of energy, can do any thing with +it. There are people who tell you soberly that they have been in love +without losing their senses, and reproach you for not keeping cool. +Bosh! Those people remind me of still champagne blaming sparkling +champagne for popping off the cork. And now, my dear fellow, have the +kindness to accept this cigar, and let us take a walk.” + +Was that really so as Brevan said? Was it true that real love destroys +in us the faculty of reasoning, and of distinguishing truth from +falsehood? Did he really not love Henrietta truly, because he was on the +point of giving her up for the sake of doing his duty? + +Oh, no, no! Brevan had been speaking of another kind of love,--a love +neither pure nor chaste. He spoke of those passions which suddenly +strike us down like lightning; which confound our senses, and mislead +our judgment; which destroy every thing, as fire does, and leave nothing +behind but disaster and disgrace and remorse. + +But all the more painful became Daniel’s thoughts as he remembered that +Count Ville-Handry was overcome by one of these terrible passions for a +worthless creature. He could not accept Maxime’s offer. + +“One word, I pray you,” he said. “Suppose I lose my free will, and +surrender absolutely; what will become of me?” + +Brevan looked at him with an air of pity, and said,-- + +“Not much will happen to you; only”-- + +And then he added with almost sternness, mixed with bitter sarcasm,-- + +“You ask me for your horoscope? Be it so. Have you a large fortune?” + +“About fifty thousand dollars.” + +“Well, in six months they will be gone; in a year you will be +overwhelmed with debts, and at your wits’ end; in less than a year and a +half, you will have become a forger.” + +“Maxime!” + +“Ah! You asked me to tell you the truth. Then, as to your social +position. Now it is excellent; you have been promoted as rapidly as +merit could claim, everybody says. You will be an admiral one of these +days. But in six months you will be nothing at all; you will have +resigned your commission, or you will have been dismissed.” + +“Allow me”-- + +“No. You are an honest man, the most honorable man I know; after six +months’ acquaintance with Sarah Brandon, you will have lost your self- +respect so completely, that you will have become a drunkard. There is +your picture. ‘It’s not flattered!’ you will say. But you wanted to have +it. And now let us go.” + +This time he was determined; and Daniel saw that he would not obtain +another word from him, unless he changed his tactics. He held him back, +therefore, a moment; and, as he opened the door, he said,-- + +“Maxime, you must pardon me a very innocent deception, which was +suggested by your own words. It is not I who am in love with Miss Sarah +Brandon.” + +Brevan was so much surprised, he could not stir. + +“Who is it, then?” he asked. + +“One of my friends.” + +“What name?” + +“I wish you would render the service I ask of you doubly valuable by not +asking me that question,--at least, not to-day.” + +Daniel spoke with such an accent of truth, that not a shadow of doubt +remained on Maxime’s mind. It was not Daniel who had fallen in love with +Sarah Brandon. Brevan did not doubt that for a moment. But he could not +conceal his trouble, and his disappointment even, as he exclaimed,-- + +“Well done, Daniel! Tell me that your ingenuous people cannot deceive +anybody!” + +However, he said nothing more about it; and, while Daniel was pouring +out his excuses, he quietly went back to the fire, and sat down. After a +moment’s silence, he began again,-- + +“Let us assume, then, that it is one of your friends who is bewitched?” + +“Yes.” + +“And the matter is--serious?” + +“Alas! He talks of marrying that woman.” + +Maxime shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, and said,-- + +“As to that, console yourself. Sarah will never consent.” + +“So far from that, she herself has made the suggestion.” + +This time, Maxime raised his head suddenly, and looked stupefied. + +“Then your friend must be very rich.” + +“He is immensely rich.” + +“He bears a great name, and holds a high position?” + +“His name is one of the oldest and noblest in the province of Anjou.” + +“And he is a very old man?” + +“He is sixty-five.” + +Brevan struck the marble slab of the mantlepiece with his fist so that +it shook, and exclaimed,-- + +“Ah, she told me she would succeed!” + +And then he added in a very low tone of voice, as if speaking to himself +with an indescribable accent of mingled admiration and hatred,-- + +“What a woman! Oh, what a woman!” + +Daniel, who was himself greatly excited, and far too busy with his own +thoughts to observe what was going on, did not notice the excitement of +his friend; he continued quietly,-- + +“Now you will understand my great curiosity. In order to prevent the +scandal of such a marriage, my friend’s family would do every thing in +the world. But how can you attack a woman of whose antecedents and mode +of life nothing is known?” + +“Yes, I understand,” said Brevan,--“I understand.” + +His features betrayed that he was making a great mental effort. He +remained for some time absorbed in his thoughts; and at last he said, as +if coming to a decision,-- + +“No, I do not see any way to prevent this marriage; none at all.” + +“Still, from what you told me”-- + +“What!” + +“About the cupidity of this woman.” + +“Well?” + +“If she were offered a large sum, some eighty or a hundred thousand +dollars?” + +Maxime laughed out loud; but there was not the true ring in his +laughter. + +“You might offer her two hundred thousand, and she would laugh at you. +Do you think she would be fool enough to content herself with a fraction +of a fortune, if she can have the whole, with a great name and a high +position into the bargain?” + +Daniel opened his lips to present another suggestion; but Maxime, laying +aside his usual half-dreamy, mocking manner, said, as if roused by a +matter of great personal interest,-- + +“You do not understand me, my dear friend. Miss Brandon is not one of +those vulgar hawks, who, in broad daylight, seize upon a poor pigeon, +pluck it alive, and cast it aside, still living, and bleeding all over.” + +“Then, Maxime, she must be”-- + +“Well, I tell you you misapprehend her. Miss Brandon”-- + +He stopped suddenly, and looking at Daniel with a glance with which +a judge examines the features of a criminal, he added in an almost +threatening voice,-- + +“By telling you what little I know about her, Daniel, I give you the +highest proof of confidence which one man can give to another. I love +you too dearly to exact your promise to be discreet. If you ever mention +my name in connection with this affair, if you ever let any one suspect +that you learned what I am going to tell you from me, you will dishonor +yourself.” + +Daniel, deeply moved, seized his friend’s hand, and, pressing it most +affectionately, said,-- + +“Ah, you know Daniel Champcey is to be relied upon.” + +Maxime knew it; for he continued,-- + +“Miss Sarah Brandon is one of those female cosmopolitan adventurers, +whom steam brings nowadays to us from all the four quarters of the +world. Like so many others, she, also, has come to Paris to spread her +net, and catch her birds, But she is made of finer stuff than most of +them, and more clever. Her ambition soars higher; and she possesses a +real genius for intrigues. She means to have a fortune, and is willing +to pay any price for it; but she is also desirous to be respected in the +world. + +“I should not be surprised if anybody told me Miss Sarah was born within +ten miles of Paris; but she calls herself an American. The fact is, +she speaks English like an Englishwoman, and knows a great deal more of +America than you know of Paris. I have heard her tell the story of +her family to a large and attentive audience; but I do not say that I +believed it. + +“According to her own account, M. Brandon, her father, a thoroughbred +Yankee, was a man of great enterprise and energy, who was ten times +rich, and as often wretchedly poor again in his life, but died leaving +several millions. This Brandon, she says, was a banker and broker in New +York when the civil war broke out. He entered the army, and in less than +six months, thanks to his marvellous energy, he rose to be a general. +When peace came, he was without occupation, and did not know what on +earth to do with himself. Fortunately, his good star led him into a +region where large tracts of land happened to be for sale. He bought +them for a few thousand dollars, and soon after discovered on his +purchase the most productive oil-wells in all America. He was just about +to be another Peabody when a fearful accident suddenly ended his +life; he was burnt in an enormous fire that destroyed one of his +establishments. + +“As to her mother, Miss Sarah says she lost her when she was quite +young, in a most romantic, though horrible manner”-- + +“What!” broke in Daniel, “has nobody taken the trouble to ascertain if +all these statements are true?” + +“I am sure I do not know. This much is certain, that sometimes curious +facts leak out. For instance, I have fallen in with Americans who have +known a broker Brandon, a Gen. Brandon, a Petroleum Brandon.” + +“He may have borrowed the name.” + +“Certainly, especially when the original man is said to have died in +America. However, Miss Brandon has been living now for five years in +Paris. She came here accompanied by a Mrs. Brian, a relative of hers, +who is the dryest, boniest person you can imagine, but at the same time +the slyest woman I have ever seen. She also brought with her a kind +of protector, a Mr. Thomas Elgin, also a relation of hers, a most +extraordinary man, stiff like a poker, but evidently a dangerous man, +who never opens his mouth except when he eats. He is a famous hand at +small-swords, however, and snuffs his candle, nine times out of ten, at +a distance of thirty yards. This Mr. Thomas Elgin, whom the world calls +familiarly Sir Thorn, and Mrs. Brian, always stay with Miss Sarah. + +“When she first arrived, Miss Sarah established herself in a house near +the Champs Elysees, which she furnished most sumptuously. Sir Thorn, who +is a jockey of the first water, had discovered a pair of gray horses for +her which made a sensation at the Bois de Boulogne, and drew everybody’s +attention to their fair owner. Heaven knows how she had managed to get +a number of letters of introduction. But certainly two or three of the +most influential members of the American colony here received her at +their houses. After that, all was made easy. Gradually she crept into +society; and now she is welcome almost everywhere, and visits, not only +at the best houses, but even in certain families which have a reputation +of being quite exclusive. + +“In fine, if she has enemies, she has also fanatic partisans. If some +people say she is a wretch, others--and they are by no means the least +clever--tell you that she is an angel, only wanting wings to fly away +from this wicked world. They talk of her as of a poor little orphan- +girl, whom people slander atrociously because they envy her youth, her +beauty, her splendor.” + +“Ah, is she so rich?” + +“Miss Brandon spends at least twenty thousand dollars a year.” + +“And no one inquires where they come from?” + +“From her sainted father’s petroleum-wells, my dear fellow. Petroleum +explains everything.” + +Brevan seemed to feel a kind of savage delight in seeing Daniel’s +despair, and in explaining to him most minutely how solidly, and +how skilfully Miss Sarah Brandon’s position in the world had been +established. Had he any expectation to prevent a struggle with her by +exaggerating her strength? Or rather, knowing Daniel as he did,--far +better, unfortunately, than he was known by him,--was he trying to +irritate him more and more against this formidable adversary? + +At all events, he continued in that icy tone which gives to sarcasm its +greatest bitterness,-- + +“Besides, my dear Daniel, if you are ever introduced at Miss +Brandon’s,--and I pray you will believe me, people are not so easily +introduced there,--you will be dumfounded at first by the tone that +prevails in that house. The air is filled with a perfume of hypocrisy +which would rejoice the stiffest of Quakers. Cant rules supreme there, +putting a lock to the mouth, and a check to the eyes.” + +Daniel began evidently to be utterly bewildered. + +“But how, how can you reconcile that,” he said, “with the thoroughly +worldly life of Miss Brandon?” + +“Oh, very easily, my dear fellow! and there you see the sublime policy +of the three rogues. To the outer world, Miss Brandon is all levity, +indiscretion, coquettishness, and even worse. She drives herself, +shortens her petticoats, and cuts down her dress-bodies atrociously. She +says she has a right to do as she pleases, according to the code of laws +which govern American young ladies. But at home she bows to the taste +and the wishes of her relative, Mrs. Brian, who displays all the extreme +prudishness of the austerest Puritan. Then she has that stiff, tall Sir +Thorn ever at her side, who never jokes. Oh! they understand each other +perfectly; the parts are carefully distributed, and”-- + +Daniel showed that he was utterly discouraged. + +“There is no way, then, of getting hold of this woman?” he asked. + +“I think not.” + +“But that adventure of which you spoke some time ago?” + +“Which? That with poor Kergrist?” + +“How do I know which? It was a fearful story; that is all I remember. +What did I, at that time, care for Miss Brandon? Now, to be sure”-- + +Brevan shook his head, and said,-- + +“Now, you think that story might become a weapon in your hands? No, +Daniel. Still it is not a very long one; and I can now tell it to you +more in detail than I could before. + +“About fifteen months ago, there arrived in Paris a nice young man +called Charles de Kergrist. He had lost as yet none of his illusions, +being barely twenty-five years old, and having something like a hundred +thousand dollars of his own. He saw Miss Brandon, and instantly ‘took +fire.’ He fell desperately in love with her. What his relations were +with her, no one can tell positively,--I mean with sufficient evidence +to carry conviction to others,--for the young man was a model of +discretion. But what became only too well known was the fact, that, +about eight months later, the people living near Miss Brandon’s house +saw one morning, when the shutters were opened, a corpse dangling at a +distance of a few feet above the ground from the iron fastenings of the +lady’s window. Upon inspection, the dead man proved to be that unlucky +Kergrist. In the pocket of his overcoat a letter was found, in which he +declared that he committed suicide because an unreturned affection had +made life unbearable to him. Now, this letter--mark the fact--was open; +that is to say, it had been sealed, and the seal was broken.” + +“By whom?” + +“Let me finish. The accident, as you may imagine, made a tremendous +noise. The family took it up. An inquest was held; and it was found that +the hundred thousand dollars which Kergrist had brought with him had +utterly disappeared.” + +“And Miss Brandon’s reputation was not ruined?” + +Maxime replied with a bitter, ironical smile,-- + +“You know very well that she was not. On the contrary, the hanging was +turned by her partisans into an occasion for praising her marvellous +virtuousness. ‘If she had been weak,’ they said, ‘Kergrist would not +have hanged himself. Besides,’ they added, ‘how can a girl, be she ever +so pure and innocent, prevent her lovers from hanging themselves at +her windows? As to the money,’ they said, ‘it had been lost at the +gaming-table.’ Kergrist was reported to have been seen at Baden-Baden +and at Homburg; no doubt he played.” + +“And the world was content with such an explanation?” + +“Yes; why not? To be sure, some sceptical persons told the whole story +very differently. According, to their account, Miss Sarah had been the +mistress of M. de Kergrist, and, seeing him utterly ruined, had sent +him off one fine morning. They stated, that, the evening before the +accident, he had come to the house at the usual hour, and, finding +it closed, had begged, and even wept, and finally threatened to kill +himself; that, thereupon, he had really killed himself; (poor fool that +he was!) that Miss Brandon, concealed behind the blinds, had watched all +his preparations for the fearful act; that she had seen him fasten the +rope to the outside hinges of her window, put the noose around his +neck, and then swing off into eternity; that she had watched him closely +during his agony, and stood there till the last convulsions had passed +away.” + +“Horrible!” whispered Daniel,--“too horrible!” + +But Maxime seized him by the arm, and pressing it so as almost to hurt +him, said in a low, hoarse voice,-- + +“That is not the worst yet. As soon as she saw that Kergrist was +surely dead, she slipped down stairs like a cat, opened the house-door +noiselessly, and, gliding stealthily along the wall till she reached the +body, she actually searched the still quivering corpse to assure herself +that there was nothing in the pockets that could possibly compromise +her. Finding the last letter of Kergrist, she took it away with her, +broke the seal, and read it; and, having found that her name was not +mentioned in it, she had the amazing audacity to return to the body, and +to put the letter back where she had found it. Then only she breathed +freely. She had gotten rid of a man whom she feared. She went to bed, +and slept soundly.” + +Daniel had become livid. + +“That woman is a monster!” he exclaimed. + +Brevan said nothing. His eyes shone with intense hatred; his lips were +quivering with indignation. He no longer thought of discretion, of +caution. He forgot himself, and gave himself up to his feelings. + +“But I have not done yet, Daniel,” he said, after a pause. “There is +another crime on record, of older date. The first appearance of Miss +Brandon in Paris society. You ought to know that also. + +“One evening, about four years ago, the president of the Mutual Discount +Society came into the cashier’s room to tell him, that, on the following +day, the board of directors would examine his books. The cashier, an +unfortunate man by the name of Malgat, replied that every thing was +ready; but, the moment the president had turned his back, he took a +sheet of paper, and wrote something like this:-- + +“‘Forgive me, I have been an honest man forty years long; now a fatal +passion has made me mad. I have drawn money from the bank which was +intrusted to my care; and, in order to screen my defalcations, I have +forged several notes. I cannot conceal my crime any longer. The first +defalcation is only six months old. The whole amount is about four +hundred thousand francs. I cannot bear the disgrace which I have +incurred; in an hour I shall have ceased to live.’ + + +“Malgat put this letter in a prominent place on his desk, and then +rushed out, without a cent in his pocket, to throw himself into the +canal. But when he reached the bank, and saw the foul, black water, he +was frightened. For hours and hours he walked up and down, asking God in +his madness for courage. He never found that courage. + +“But what was he to do? He could not flee, having no money; and where +should he hide? He could not return to his bank; for there, by this +time, his crime must have become known. In his despair he ran as far as +the Champs Elysees, and late in the night he knocked at the door of Miss +Brandon’s house. + +“They did not know yet what had happened, and he was admitted. Then, in +his wild despair, he told them all, begging them to give him a couple of +hundreds only of the four hundred thousand which he had stolen in order +to give them to Miss Brandon,--a hundred only, to enable him to escape +to Belgium. + +“They refused. And when he begged and prayed, falling on his knees +before Miss Sarah, Sir Thorn seized him by the shoulders, and turned him +out of the house.” + +Maxime, overcome by his intense excitement, fell into an easy-chair, +and remained there for a considerable time, his eyes fixed, his brow +darkened, repenting himself, no doubt, of his candor, his wrath, and his +forgetfulness of all he owed to himself and to others. + +But, when he rose again, his rare strength of will enabled him to assume +his usual phlegmatic manner; and he continued in a mocking tone,-- + +“I see in your face, Daniel, that you think the story is monstrous, +improbable, almost impossible. Nevertheless, four years ago, it was +believed all over Paris, and set off by a number of hideous details +which I will spare you. If you care to look at the papers of that year, +you will find it everywhere. But four years are four centuries in Paris. +To say nothing of the many similar stories that have happened since.” + +Daniel said nothing, he only bowed his head sadly. He felt a kind of +painful emotion, such as he had never before experienced in his life. + +“It is not so much the story itself,” he said at last, “that overcomes +me so completely. What I cannot comprehend is, how this woman could +refuse the man whose accomplice she had been the small pittance he +required in order to evade justice, and to escape to Belgium.” + +“Nevertheless, that was so,” repeated M. de Brevan; and then he added +emphatically, “at least, they say so.” + +Daniel did not notice this attempt to become more cautious again. He +continued pensively,-- + +“Is it not very improbable that Miss Brandon should not have been +afraid to exasperate the unfortunate man, and to drive him to desperate +measures? In his furious rage, he might have left the house, rushed to a +police-officer, and confessed to him every thing, laying the evidence he +had in his hands before a magistrate, and”-- + +“You say,” replied Brevan, interrupting him with a dry, sardonic laugh, +“precisely what all the advocates of the fair American said at that +time. But I tell you, that her peculiarity is exactly the daring with +which she ventures upon the most dangerous steps. She does not pretend +to avoid difficulties; she crushes them. Her prudence consists in +carrying imprudence to the farthest limits.” + +“But”-- + +“You ought to credit her, besides, with sufficient astuteness and +experience to know that she had taken the most careful precautions, +having destroyed every evidence of her own complicity, and feeling quite +safe in that direction. Moreover, she had studied Malgat’s character, +as she studied afterwards Kergrist’s. She was quite sure that neither of +them would accuse her, even at the moment of death. And yet, in the +case of this Mutual Discount Society, her calculations did not prove +absolutely correct.” + +“How so?” + +“It became known that she had received Malgat two or three times +secretly, for he did not openly enter her house; and the penny papers +had it, that ‘the fair stranger was no stranger to small peculations.’ +Public opinion was veering around, when it was reported that she +had been summoned to appear before a magistrate. That, however, was +fortunate for her; she came out from the trial whiter and purer than +Alpine snow.” + +“Oh!” + +“And so perfectly cleared, that, when the whole matter was brought up in +court, she was not even summoned as a witness.” + +Daniel started up, and exclaimed,-- + +“What! Malgat had the sublime self-abnegation to undergo the agonies of +a trial, and the infamy of a condemnation, without allowing a word to +escape?” + +“No. For the simple reason that Malgat was sentenced _in contumaciam_ to +ten years in the penitentiary.” + +“And what has become of the poor wretch?” + +“Who knows? They say he killed himself. Two months later, a half +decomposed body was found in the forest of Saint Germain, which people +declared to be Malgat. However”-- + +He had become livid, in his turn; but he continued in an almost +inaudible voice, as if to meet Daniel’s objections before they were +expressed,-- + +“However, somebody who used to be intimate with Malgat has assured me +that he met him one day in Dronot Street, before the great auction- +mart. The man said he recognized him, although he seemed to be most +artistically disguised. This is what has set me thinking more than once, +that, if people were not mistaken, a day might, after all, yet come, +when Miss Sarah would have a terrible bill to settle with her implacable +creditor.” + +He passed his hand across his brow as if to drive away such +uncomfortable thoughts, and then said with a forced laugh,-- + +“Now, my dear fellow, I have come to the end of my budget. The details +were all given me by Miss Sarah’s friends as well as by her enemies. +Some you may read of in the papers; but most I know from my own long and +patient observation. And, if you ask me what interest I could have in +knowing such a woman, I will tell you frankly, that you see before you +one of her victims; for my dear Daniel, I have to confess it, I also +have been in love with her; and how! But I was too small a personage, +and too poor a devil, to be worth a serious thought of Miss Brandon. +As soon as she felt sure that her abominable tricks had set my head on +fire, and that I had become an idiot, a madman, a stupid fool--on that +very day she laughed in my face. Ah! I tell you, she played with me +as if I had been a child, and then she sent me off as if I had been a +lackey. And now I hate her mortally, as I loved her almost criminally. +Therefore, if I can help you, in secret, without becoming known, you may +count upon me.” + +Why should Daniel have doubted the truthfulness of his friend’s +statements? Had he not himself, and quite voluntarily, confessed his +own folly, his own love, anticipating all questions, and making a clean +breast of the whole matter? + +Not a doubt, therefore, arose in Daniel’s mind. On the contrary, he +thanked God for having sent him such an ally, such a friend, who had +lived long enough amid all these intrigues of Parisian high life to know +all its secret springs, and to guide him safely. He took Maxime’s hand +in his own, and said with deep feeling,-- + +“Now, my friend, we are bound to each other for life.” + +Brevan seemed deeply touched; he raised his hand as if to wipe a tear +from his eyes. But he was not a man to give way to tender feelings. He +said,-- + +“But how about your friend? How can we prevent his marrying Miss Sarah? +Does any way occur to you? No? Ah! you see, it will be hard work.” + +He seemed to meditate deeply for a few moments; then uttering his words +slowly and emphatically, as if to lend them their full weight, and +impress them forcibly on Daniel’s mind, he resumed,-- + +“We must attack Miss Brandon herself, if we want to master the +situation. If we could once know who she really is, all would be safe. +Fortunately there is no difficulty in Paris in finding spies, if you +have money enough.” + +As the clock on the mantlepiece struck half-past ten, he started and +stopped. He jumped up as if suddenly inspired by a bright idea, and said +hurriedly,-- + +“But now I think of it, Daniel, you do not know Miss Brandon; you have +never even seen her!” + +“No, indeed!” + +“Well, that’s a pity. We must know our enemies; how else can we even +smile at them? I want you to see Miss Sarah.” + +“But who will point her out to me? where? when?” + +“I will do it to-night, at the opera. I bet she will be there!” + +Daniel was in evening costume, having called upon Henrietta, and then he +was all ready. + +“Very well,” he said, “I am willing.” + +Without losing a moment, they went out, and reached the theatre just +as the curtain rose on the fourth act of Don Giovanni. They were, +fortunately, able to secure two orchestra-chairs. The stage was +gorgeous; but what did they care for the singer on the boards, or the +divine music of Mozart? Brevan took his opera-glasses out, and rapidly +surveying the house, he had soon found what he was looking for. He +touched Daniel with his elbow, and, handing him the glasses, whispered +in his ear,-- + +“Look there, in the third box from the stage; look, there she is!” + + + + +V. + +Daniel looked up. In the box which Maxime had pointed out to him he saw +a girl of such rare and dazzling beauty, that he could hardly retain +a cry of admiration. She was leaning forward, resting on the velvet +cushion of her box, in order to hear better. + +Her hair, perfectly overwhelming in its richness, was so carelessly +arranged, that no one could doubt it was all her own; it was almost +golden, but with such a bright sheen, that at every motion sparks seemed +to start from its dark masses. Her large, soft eyes were overshadowed by +long lashes; and as she now opened them wide, and now half closed them +again, they changed from the darkest to the lightest blue. + +Her lips smiled in all the freshness and innocence of merry youth, +displaying now and then two rows of teeth, matchless in their beauty and +regularity. + +“Can that be,” said Daniel to himself, “the wretched creature whose +portrait Maxime has just given me?” + +A little behind her, and half-hid in the shade of the box, appeared +a large bony head, adorned with an absurd bunch of feathers. Her eyes +flashed indignation; and her narrow lips seemed to say perpetually, +“Shocking!” That was Mrs. Brian. + +Still farther back, barely discernible after long examination, arose a +tall, stiff figure, a bald, shining head, two dark, deep-sunk eyes, a +hooked nose, and a pair of immense streaming whiskers. That was the Hon. +Thomas Elgin, commonly known as Sir Thorn. + +As Daniel was persistently examining the box, with the smiling girl, +the stern old woman, and the placid old man in the background, he felt +doubts of all kinds creeping into his mind. + +Might not Maxime be mistaken? Did he not merely repeat the atrocious +slanders of the envious world? + +These thoughts troubled Daniel; and he would have mentioned his doubts +to Maxime; but his neighbors were enthusiasts about music, and, as soon +as he bent over to whisper into his friend’s ear, they growled, and, if +he ventured to utter a word, they forced him to be silent. At last the +curtain fell. Many left the house; others simply rose to look around; +but Maxime and Daniel remained in their seats. Their whole attention was +concentrated upon Miss Brandon’s box, when they saw the door open, and +a gentleman enter, who, at the distance at which they sat, looked like +a very young man. His complexion was brilliantly fair, his beard jet +black, and his curly hair most carefully arranged. He had his opera-hat +under his arm, a camellia in his button-hole; and his light-yellow kid +gloves were so tight, that it looked as if they must inevitably burst +the instant he used his hands. + +“Count Ville-Handry!” said Daniel to himself. + +Somebody touched his shoulder slightly; and, as he turned round, he +found it was Maxime, who said with friendly irony,-- + +“Your old friend, is it not? The happy lover of Miss Brandon?” + +“Yes, it is so. I have to confess it.” + +He was just in the act of explaining the reasons for his silence, when +M. de Brevan interrupted him, saying,-- + +“Just look, Daniel; just look!” + +The count had taken a seat in the front part of the box, by Miss +Brandon’s side, and was talking to her with studied affectation, bending +over her, gesticulating violently, and laughing till he showed every +one of the long yellow teeth which were left him. He was evidently on +exhibition, and desired to be seen by everybody. Suddenly, however, +after Miss Brandon had said a few words to him, he rose, and went out. + +The bell behind the scenes was ringing, and the curtain was about to +rise again. + +“Let us _go_,” said Daniel to M. de Brevan: “I am suffering.” + +He was really suffering, mortified by the ridiculous scene which +Henrietta’s father was playing. But he entertained no longer any doubts; +he had clearly seen how the adventuress was spurring on the old man, and +fanning his feeble flame. + +“Ah! it will be hard work to rescue the count from the wiles of this +witch,” said Maxime. + +Having left the house, they were just turning into the narrow street +which leads to the boulevards, when they saw a tall man, wrapped up in +a huge cloak, coming towards them, and behind him a servant with a whole +armful of magnificent roses. It was Count Ville-Handry. Coming suddenly +face to face upon Daniel, he seemed at first very much embarrassed; +then, recovering himself, he said,-- + +“Why, is this you? Where on earth do you come from?” + +“From the theatre.” + +“And you run away before the fifth act? That is a crime against the +majesty of Mozart. Come, go back with me, and I promise you a pleasant +surprise.” + +Brevan came up close to Daniel, and whispered to him,-- + +“Go; here is the opportunity I was wishing for.” + +Then he lifted his hat and went his way. Daniel, taken rather by +surprise, accompanied the count till he saw him stop near a huge landau, +open in spite of the cold weather, but guarded by three servants in +gorgeous livery. When they saw the count, they all three uncovered +respectfully; but he, without taking any notice of them, turned to the +porter who had the flowers, and said,-- + +“Scatter all these roses in this carriage.” + +The man hesitated. He was the servant of a famous florist, and had often +seen people pay forty or fifty dollars for such bouquets. He thought the +joke was carried too far. However, the count insisted. The roses were +piled up in the bottom of the carriage; and, when he had done, he +received a handsome fee for his trouble. + +Then the count returned to the opera-house, Daniel following him, filled +with amazement. Evidently love had made the count young again, and now +gave wings to his steps. He ran up the steps of the great porch of the +opera-house, and in a few moments he was once more in Miss Brandon’s +box. At once he took Daniel by the hand; and, drawing him into the box +close to the lady, he said to the young girl,-- + +“Permit me to present to you M. Daniel Champcey, one of our most +distinguished naval officers.” + +Daniel bowed, first to her, and then solemnly to Mrs. Brian, and long, +stiff Sir Thorn. + +“I need not tell you, my dear count,” said Miss Sarah, “that your +friends are always welcome here.” + +Then, turning to Daniel, she added,-- + +“Besides, I have long since known you.” + +“Me?” + +“Yes, sir. And I even know that you are one of the most frequent +visitors at Count Ville-Handry’s house.” + +She looked at Daniel with a kind of malicious simplicity, and then +added, + +“_I_ do not mean to say that the count would not be wrong if he +attributed your frequent visits exclusively to his own merits. I have +heard something of a certain young lady”-- + +“Sarah,” here broke in Mrs. Brian, “what you say there is highly +improper.” This reproof, so far from checking Miss Sarah’s merriment, +only seemed to increase it. Without losing sight of Daniel, she turned +to her aunt, and said,-- + +“Since the count is not opposed to this gentleman’s paying his +attentions to his daughter, I think I may safely speak of them. It would +be such an extraordinary thing, if any thing should happen to interfere +with his hopes!” + +Daniel, who had blushed all over, suddenly became deadly pale. After all +that he had been told, these words sounded to him, in spite of the loud +laugh that accompanied them, like a warning and a threat. But he was +not allowed the time to reflect. The piece was coming to an end; Miss +Brandon was drawing a fur cloak over her shoulders, and left on the +count’s arm; while he had to escort Mrs. Brian, being closely followed +by tall, stiff Sir Thorn. The landau was at the door. The servants had +let down the steps; and Miss Sarah was just getting in. Suddenly, as her +foot touched the bottom of the carriage, she drew back, and cried out,-- + +“What is that? What is in there?” + +The count came forward, looking visibly embarrassed. + +“You are fond of roses,” he said, “and I have ordered a few.” + +With these words he took up some of the leaves, and showed them to her. +But immediately Miss Brandon’s terror was changed into wrath. + +“You certainly are bent upon making me angry,” she said. “You want +people to say everywhere that I make you commit all kinds of follies. +What a glorious thing to waste fifty dollars on flowers, when one has I +know not how many millions!” + +Then, seeing by the light of the street-lamp that the count’s face +showed deep disappointment, she said in a tone to make him lose the +little reason that was left him,-- + +“You would have been more welcome if you had brought me a cent’s worth +of violets.” + +In the mean time Mrs. Brian had taken her seat by Miss Brandon’s side; +Sir Thorn had gotten in; and it was now the count’s turn. At the moment +when the servant was closing the door, Miss Sarah bent forward toward +Daniel, and said,-- + +“I hope I shall have the pleasure of soon seeing you again. Our dear +count will give you my address, and tell you my reception-days. I must +tell you that we American girls dote upon naval officers, and that I”-- + +The remainder was lost in the noise of the wheels. The carriage which +took Miss Brandon and Count Ville-Handry away was already at some +distance, before Daniel could recover from his amazement, his utter +consternation. + +All these strange events, coming upon him one by one, in the course of +a few hours, and breaking suddenly in upon so calm and quiet a life, +overwhelmed him to such a degree, that he was not quite sure whether he +was dreaming or awake. + +Alas! he was not dreaming. This Miss Sarah Brandon, who had just passed +away from him like a glorious vision from on high, was only too real; +and there, on the muddy pavement, a handful of rose-leaves bore witness +of the power of her charms, and the folly of her aged lover. + +“Ah, we are lost!” exclaimed Daniel, in so loud a voice, that some of +the passers-by stopped, expecting one of those street-dramas which +read so strikingly in the local columns of our papers. They were +disappointed, however. Noticing that he attracted attention, Daniel +shrugged his shoulders, and quickly walked off towards the boulevards. + +He had promised Henrietta to be sure to tell her that very evening, if +possible, what he had found out; but it was too late now; midnight was +striking. + +“I’ll go to-morrow,” he said to himself. + +Whilst lounging leisurely down the boulevards, still brilliantly lighted +up, and crowded with people, he strained all his faculties for the +purpose of examining his situation coolly and calmly. At first he +had imagined he should only have to do with one of those common +_intriguantes_ who want to secure themselves a quiet old age, and +clumsily spread their nets to catch an old or a young man; and who +can always easily be gotten rid of by paying them a more or less +considerable sum of money, provided the police does not get hold of +them. In such a case he would have had some hope. + +But here he saw himself suddenly confronted by one of those formidable +adventuresses in high life, who either save appearances altogether, or, +at worst, are only compromised far enough to give additional zest and +an air of mystery to their relations. How could he hope to compete with +such a woman? and with what weapons could he attack her? How should he +reach her? and how attack her? + +Was it not pure folly to think even of making her give up the +magnificent fortune which she seemed already to have in her hands, +Heaven knows by what means? She evidently looked upon it as her own +already, and enjoyed its charms in anticipation. + +“Great God!” said Daniel, “send me some inspiration.” + +But no inspiration came; and in vain did he torture his mind; he was +unable to think. + +When he reached home, he went to bed as usual; but the consciousness of +his misfortunes kept him awake. At nine o’clock in the morning, having +never closed his eyes, and feeling utterly overcome by sleeplessness and +fatigue, he was just about to get up, when some one knocked at his door. +He rose hastily, put on his clothes, and went to open the door. It was +M. de Brevan, who came to hear all about his new acquaintance of last +night, and whose first word was,-- + +“Well?” + +“Alas!” replied Daniel, “I think the wisest plan would be to give it +up.” + +“Upon my word, you are in great haste to surrender.” + +“And what would you do in my place, eh? That woman has beauty enough to +drive any one mad; and the count is a lost man.” + +And, before Maxime had time to reply, Daniel told him simply and +frankly all about his love for Miss Ville-Handry, the hopes he had been +encouraged to cherish, and the dangers that threatened his happiness in +life. + +“For I can no longer deceive myself, Maxime,” he concluded with a tone +of utter despair. “I foresee, I know, what is going to happen. Henrietta +will obstinately, and at any risk, do every thing in the world to +prevent her father’s marriage with Miss Brandon; she will struggle to +the bitter end. Ought I, or ought I not, to help her? Certainly. Can we +succeed? No! But we shall have a mortal enemy in Miss Brandon; and, on +the morning after her wedding, her first thought will be how to avenge +herself, and how to separate Henrietta and myself forever.” + +Little as Brevan was generally given to show his feelings, he was +evidently deeply touched by his friend’s despair. + +“In short, my dear fellow, you have reached the point at which we no +longer know what to do. All the more reason, then, that you should +listen to the calm advice of a friend. You must have yourself presented +at Miss Brandon’s house.” + +“She has invited me.” + +“Well, then, do not hesitate, but go there.” + +“What for?” + +“Not for much. You will pay some compliments to Miss Sarah; you will +be all attention to Mrs. Brian; and you will try to win over the Hon. +Thomas Elgin. Finally, and above all, you will be all ears and all +eyes.” + +“I am sorry to say I do not understand you yet.” + +“What? Don’t you see that the position of these daring adventurers, +however secure it may appear, may, after all, hang on a single +thread? and that nothing is wanting in order to cut that thread but an +opportunity? And when you may expect, at any moment, any thing and every +thing, what is to be done but to wait and watch?” + +Daniel did not seem to be convinced. He added,-- + +“Miss Sarah will talk to me about her marriage.” + +“Certainly she will.” + +“What can I say?” + +“Nothing,--neither yes nor no,--but smile, or run away; at all events, +you gain time.” + +He was interrupted by Daniel’s servant, who came in, holding a card in +his hand, and said,-- + +“Sir, there is a gentleman down stairs in a carriage, who wants to know +if he would interrupt you if he came up to see you.” + +“What is the gentleman’s name?” + +“Count Ville-Handry. Here is his card.” + +“Be quick!” said Daniel, “run down and ask him, would he please come +up.” + +M. de Brevan had started up, and was standing, with his hat on, near the +door. As the servant left, he said,-- + +“I am running away.” + +“Why?” + +“Because the count must not find me here. You would be compelled to +introduce me to him; he might remember my name; and, if he were to tell +Miss Sarah that I am your friend, all would be lost.” + +Thereupon he turned to go; but at the same moment the outer door was +opened, and he said,-- + +“There is the count! I am caught.” + +But Daniel opened promptly the door to his bedroom, pushed him in, and +shut the door. It was high time; the same moment the count entered. + + + + +VI. + +The count must have risen early that day. Although it was not yet ten +o’clock, he was already brilliant, rouged, dyed, and frizzed. Of course +all these results had not been the work of an hour. As he entered, he +drew a long breath, and said,-- + +“Ah! You live pretty high up, my dear Daniel.” + +Poor fellow! He forgot that he was playing the young man. But he +recalled himself at once, and added, full of vivacity,-- + +“Not that I complain of it; oh, no! A few stories to climb--what is that +to me?” + +At the same time he stretched out his leg, and caressed his calf, as if +to exhibit its vigor and its suppleness. In the meantime, Daniel, full +of respect for his future father-in-law, had drawn forward his easiest +arm-chair. The count took it, and in an airy manner, which contrasted +ill with his evident embarrassment, he said,-- + +“I am sure, my dear Daniel, you must be very much surprised and puzzled +to see me here; are you not?” + +“I confess, sir, I am. If you wished to speak to me, you had only to +drop me a line, and I should have waited upon you at once.” + +“I am sure you would! But that is not necessary. In fact, I have nothing +to say to you. I should not have come to see you, if I had not missed an +appointment. I was to meet one of my fellow members of the assembly, and +he did not come to the place where we were to meet. On my return home, +I happened to pass your house; and I said to myself, ‘Why not go up and +see my sailor friend? I might ask him what he thinks of a certain young +lady to whom he had, last night, the honor of being presented.’” + +Now or never was the favorable moment for following Maxime’s advice; +hence Daniel, instead of replying, simply smiled as pleasantly as he +could. + +But that did not satisfy the count; so he repeated the question more +directly, and said,-- + +“Come, tell us frankly, what do you think of Miss Brandon?” + +“She is one of the greatest beauties I have ever seen in my life.” + +Count Ville-Handry’s eyes beamed with delight and with pride as he heard +these words. He exclaimed,-- + +“Say she is the greatest beauty, the most marvellous and transcendent +beauty, you ever saw. And that, M. Daniel Champcey, is her smallest +attraction. When she opens her lips, the charms of her mind, beauty and +her mind, and remember her admirable ingenuousness, her naive freshness, +and all the treasures of her chaste and pure soul.” + +This excessive, almost idiotic admiration, this implicit, absurd faith +in his beloved, gave the painted face of the count a strange, almost +ecstatic expression. He said to himself, but loud enough to be heard,-- + +“And to think that chance alone has led me to meet this angel!” + +A sudden start, involuntary on the part of Daniel, seemed to disturb +him; for he resumed his speech, laying great stress upon his words,-- + +“Yes, chance alone; and I can prove it to you.” + +He settled down in his chair like a man who is going to speak for some +length of time; and, in that emphatic manner which so well expressed the +high opinion he had of himself, he continued,-- + +“You know, my friend, how deeply I was affected by the death of the +Countess Ville-Handry. It is true she was not exactly the companion a +statesman of my rank would have chosen. Her whole capacity rarely rose +beyond the effort to distinguish a ball-dress from a dinner-dress. +But she was a good woman, attentive, discreet, and devoted to me; an +excellent manager, economical, and yet always sure to do honor to the +high reputation of my house.” + +Thus, in all sincerity, the count spoke of her who had literally made +him, and who, for sixteen long years, had galvanized his empty head. + +“In short,” he continued, “the loss of my wife so completely upset me, +that I lost all taste for the occupations which had so far been dear +to me; and I set about to find distractions elsewhere. Soon after I had +gotten into the habit of going frequently to my club, I fell in with +M. Thomas Elgin, and, although we never became intimate, we always +exchanged a friendly greeting, and occasionally a cigar. + +“Sir Thorn, as they call him, is an excellent horseman, you know, and +used to ride out every morning at an early hour; and as the physicians +had recommended to me horseback exercise, and as I like it, because I +excel in riding, as in every thing else, we often met in the Bois de +Boulogne. We wished each other good-day; and sometimes we galloped a +little while side by side. I am rather reserved; but Sir Thorn is even +more so, and thus it did not seem that our acquaintance was ever to +ripen into any thing better, till an accident brought us together. + +“One morning we were returning slowly from a long ride, when Sir Thorn’s +mare, a foolish brute, suddenly shied, and jumped so high, that he was +thrown. I jumped down instantly to help him up again; but he could not +rise. You know nothing ordinarily hurts these Americans. But it +seems, as we found out afterwards, that he had sprained an ankle, and +dislocated a knee. There was no one near the place; and I began to be +seriously embarrassed, when fortunately two soldiers appeared. I called +to them, and sent one on my horse to the nearest hack-stand to bring a +carriage. As soon as it came, we raised the invalid, and put him in +as well as we could; I got on the box to show the man the way to Sir +Thorn’s house. When we arrived there, I rang the bell, and told +the servants to come down to their master. They got him, with some +difficulty, out of the hack; and there they were, carrying him painfully +up the stairs, and he groaning feebly, for he suffered terribly. + +“I was going up before them; and, as I reached the second story, a door +suddenly opened, and a young girl was standing right before me. + +“She was evidently dressing, when the noise which we made startled +her; and she came running out. She had only taken time to throw a loose +wrapper around her shoulders; and her dishevelled hair streamed out from +under a kind of coquettish morning-cap. + +“When she saw her kinsman in the arms of the servants, she imagined he +was dangerously wounded, perhaps even--She turned as pale as death, and, +uttering a loud cry, she tottered. + +“She would have fallen down the steps, head foremost, if I had not +caught her in my arms. She had fainted. And there I held her, leaning +on my shoulder, so close that I became aware of the warmth of her lovely +body, and actually felt her heart beat against mine. Her cap had become +unfastened; and her hair fell in golden floods all over me, and down to +the floor. But all this lasted only a few seconds. + +“When she recovered, and found herself in the arms of a man, she rose +with an air of extreme distress, and, slipping away, disappeared in her +room.” + +At the mere description of this scene, the count turned pale under +his rouge; and his voice forsook him. Nor did he in any way attempt to +conceal his emotion. + +“I am a poor old fellow,” he said; “and between you and me, my dear +Daniel, I will tell you that the women--well--the women have not +been--exactly cruel to me. In fact, I thought I had outlived all the +emotions which they can possibly give us. + +“Well, I was mistaken. Never in my life, I assure you, have I felt such +a deep sensation as when Miss Brandon was lying in my arms.” + +While saying this, he had pulled out his handkerchief, saturated with +a strong perfume, and was wiping his forehead, though very gently, and +with infinite precautions, so as not to spoil the artistic work of his +valet. + +“You will know Miss Brandon,” he went on, “I hope soon. Once having seen +her, one wants to see her again. I was lucky enough to have a pretext +for coming again; and the very next day I was at her door, inquiring +after M. Thomas Elgin. They showed me into the room of that excellent +gentleman, where I found him stretched out on an invalid’s chair, with +his legs all bandaged up. By his side sat a venerable lady, to whom he +presented me, and who was no other than Mrs. Brian. + +“They received me very kindly, although with some little reserve under +all their politeness; but I staid and staid in vain beyond the proper +time; Miss Sarah did not appear. + +“Nor did I see her upon subsequent occasions, when I repeated my visits, +until at last I came to the conclusion that she avoided me purposely. + +“Upon my word, I believed it. But one day Sir Thorn, who was improving +very rapidly, expressed a desire to walk out a few steps in the Champs +Elysees. I offered him my arm; he accepted it; and, when we came back, +he asked me if I would be kind enough to take pot-luck with him.” + +However important these communications were for Daniel, he was for some +time already listening but very inattentively to the count’s recital, +for he had heard a strange, faint noise, which he could not by any +means explain to himself. At last, looking all around, he discovered the +cause. + +The door to his bedroom, which he was sure he had closed himself, +was now standing partly open. No doubt M. de Brevan, weary of his +confinement and excited by curiosity, had chosen this way to see and +to listen. Of all this, however, Count Ville-Handry saw nothing, and +suspected nothing. + +“Thus,” he continued, “I was at last to see Miss Sarah again. Upon my +word, I was less excited, I think, the day I made my first speech. But +you know I have some power over myself; and I had recovered my calmness, +when Sir Thorn confessed to me that he would have invited me long since, +but for the fear of offending his young relative, who had declared she +would never meet me again. I was grieved, and asked how I had offended +her. And then Sir Thorn, with that marvellous composure which never +leaves him, said, ‘It is not you she blames, but herself, on account of +that ridiculous scene the other day.’ + +“Do you hear, Daniel, he called that adorable scene which I have just +described to you, ridiculous! It is only Americans who can commit such +absurdities. + +“I have since found out that they had almost to force Miss Brandon to +receive me; but she had tact enough not to let me see it, when I was +formally presented to her, just before going to dinner. It is true, she +blushed deeply; but she took my hand with the utmost cordiality, and cut +me short when I was trying to pay her some compliment, saying,-- + +“‘You are Thorn’s friend; I am sure we shall be friends also.’ + +“Ah, Daniel! you admired Miss Brandon at the theatre; but you ought +to see her at her house. Abroad she sacrifices herself in order to pay +proper regard to the world; but at home she can venture to be herself. + +“We soon became friends, as she had foretold, so soon, in fact, that +I was quite surprised when I found her addressing me like an old +acquaintance. I soon discovered how that came about. + +“Our young girls here in France, my dear Daniel, are charming, no doubt, +but generally ill taught, frivolous, and caring for nothing but balls, +novels, or dress. The Americans are very different. Their serious +minds are occupied with the same subjects which fill their parents’ +minds,--with politics, industry, discussions in the assembly, +discoveries in science, &c. A man like myself, known abroad and at +home during a long political career of some distinction, could not be a +stranger to Miss Brandon. My earnestness in defending those causes which +I considered just had often filled her with enthusiasm. Deeply moved +by my speeches, which she was in the habit of reading, she had often +thought of the speaker. I think I can hear her now say with that +beautiful voice of hers, which has the clear ring of pure crystal,-- + +“‘Oh, yes! I knew you, count; I knew you long ago. And there was many a +day when I wished I were a friend of yours, so that I might say to you, +“Well done, sir! what you are doing is grand, is noble!”’ + +“And that was true; for she remembered a number of passages from my +speeches, even from such as I had forgotten myself; and she always +quoted them literally. At times, I was amazed at some peculiarly bold +thoughts which she uttered; and, when I complimented her upon them, she +broke out in loud laughter, and said,-- + +“‘Why, count, these are your own ideas; I got them from you. You said so +on such and such an occasion.’ + +“And when I looked at night, after my return, into my papers, to +ascertain the fact, I found almost always that Miss Brandon had been +right. Need I tell you after that, that I soon became an almost daily +visitor at the house in Circus Street? Surely you take it for granted. + +“But what I must tell you is, that I found there the most perfect +happiness, and the purest that I have ever known upon earth. I was +filled with respect and with admiration, when I looked at their rigid +morality, united with the heartiest cheerfulness. There I enjoyed my +happiest hours, between Mrs. Brian, the Puritan lady, so strict for +herself, so indulgent for others; and Thomas Elgin, the noblest and best +of men, who conceals under an appearance of icy coldness the warmest and +kindest of hearts.” + +What was Count Ville-Handry aiming at? or had he no aim at all? + +Had he come merely to confide to Daniel the amazing romance of his love? +Or did he simply yield to the natural desire of all lovers, to pour out +the exuberance of their feelings, and to talk of their love, even when +they know that their indiscretion may be fatal to their success? + +Daniel put these questions to himself; but the count did not leave him +time to reflect, and to answer them. + +After a short pause, he seemed to rouse himself, and said, suddenly +changing his tone,-- + +“I guess what you think, my dear Daniel. You say to yourself, ‘Count +Ville-Handry was in love.’ Well, I assure you you are mistaken.” + +Daniel started from his chair; and, overcome by amazement, he +exclaimed,-- + +“Can it be possible?” + +“Exactly so; I give you my word of honor. The feelings which attracted +me toward Miss Brandon were the same that bound me to my daughter. But +as I am a shrewd observer, and have some knowledge of the human heart, +I could not help being struck by a change in Miss Brandon’s face, and +especially in her manner. After having treated me with the greatest +freedom and familiarity, she had suddenly become reserved, and almost +cold. It was evident to me that she was embarrassed in my presence. Our +constant intercourse, so far from reassuring her, seemed to frighten +her. You may guess how I interpreted this change, my dear Daniel. + +“But, as I have never been a conceited man, I thought I might be +mistaken. I devoted myself, therefore, to more careful observation; +and I soon became aware, that, if I loved Miss Brandon only with the +affection of a father, I had succeeded in inspiring her with a more +tender sentiment.” + +In any other person, this senile self-conceit would have appeared +intensely absurd to Daniel; in his Henrietta’s father, it pained +him deeply. The count actually noticed his downcast look, and, +misinterpreting it, asked him,-- + +“Could you doubt what I say?” + +“Oh, no, sir!” + +“Very well, then. I can assure you, at all events, that this discovery +troubled me not a little. I was so surprised by it, that for three days +I could neither think of it coolly, nor decide on what I ought to do. +Still it was necessary I should make up my mind. I did not for a moment +think of abusing the confidence of this innocent child; and yet I knew, +I felt it, she was absolutely in my power. But no! It would have been +infamous in me to repay the hospitality of excellent Mrs. Brian, and the +kindness of noble M. Elgin, with such ingratitude. On the other hand, +must I necessarily deny myself my pleasant visits at the house in Circus +Street, and break with friends who were so dear to me? I thought of +that, also; but I had not the courage to do so.” + +He hesitated for a moment, trying to read in Daniel’s eyes his real +opinion. After a while, he said very gravely,-- + +“It was then only, that the idea of marrying her occurred to me.” + +Daniel had been expecting the fatal word; thus, however heavy the blow +was, it found him prepared. He remained immovable. + +This indifference seemed to surprise the count; for he uttered an +expression of discontent, and curtly repeated,-- + +“Yes, I thought of marrying her. You will say, ‘That was a serious +matter.’ I know that only too well; and therefore I did not decide +the question in a hurry, but weighed the reasons for and against very +carefully. I am not one of those weak men, you know, I am sure, who can +easily be hoodwinked, and who fancy they alone possess the secret of +perennial youth. No, no, I know myself, and am fully aware, better than +anybody else, that I am approaching maturer years. + +“This was, in fact, the first objection that arose in my mind. But then +I answered it triumphantly by the fact that age is not a matter to be +decided by the certificate of baptism, but that we are just as old as we +appear to be. Now, thanks to an exceptionally sober and peaceful life, +of which forty years were spent in the country, to an iron constitution, +and to the extreme care I have always taken of my health, I possess +a--what shall I say?--a vigor which many young men might envy, who can +hardly drag one foot after the other.” + +He rose as he said this, threw out his chest, straightened his back, +and stretched out his well-shaped leg. Then, when he thought Daniel had +sufficiently admired him, he continued,-- + +“Now, what of Miss Brandon? You think, perhaps, she is still in her +teens? Far from that! She is at least twenty-five, my dear friend; and, +for a woman, twenty-five years are--ah, ah!” + +He smiled ironically, as if to say that to him a woman of twenty-five +appeared an old, a very old woman. Then he went on,-- + +“Besides, I know how serious her disposition is, and her eminent good +sense. You may rely upon me, when I tell you I have studied her. A +thousand trifles, of no weight in appearance, and unnoticed by herself +in all probability, have told me that she abhors very young men. She has +learnt to appreciate the value of young husbands of thirty, who are all +fire and flame in the honeymoon, and who, six months later, wearied with +pure and tranquil happiness, seek their delights elsewhere. It is not +only of late that I have found out how truly she values what is, after +all, most desirable in this world,--a great name worthily borne by a +true man, and a reputation that would shed new radiance upon her. How +often have I heard her say to Mrs. Brian, ‘Above all, aunt, I want to +be proud of my husband; I want to see everybody’s eye sparkle with +admiration and envy as soon as I mention his name, which will have +become mine also; I want people to whisper around me, “Ah, how happy she +is to be loved by such a man!”’” + +He shook his head gravely, and said in a solemn tone,-- + +“I examined myself, Daniel, and found that I answered all of Miss +Brandon’s expectations; and the result of my meditations was, that I +would be a madman to allow such happiness to escape me, and that I was +bound to risk every thing. I made up my mind, therefore, firmly, and +went to M. Elgin in order to make him aware of my intentions. I cannot +describe to you the amazement of that worthy gentleman. + +“‘You are joking,’ he said at first, ‘and that pains me deeply.’ + +“But, when he saw that I had never in my life spoken more seriously, he, +who is usually so phlegmatic, became perfectly furious. As if I would +have come to him, if, by some impossible accident, I should have +been unhappy in my choice! But I fell from the clouds when he told me +outright that he meant to do all he could do to prevent such a match. +Nor would he give up his purpose, say what I could; and I had to use +all my skill to make him change his mind. At last, after more than two +hours’ discussion, all that I could obtain from him was the promise +that he would remain neutral, and that he would leave to Mrs. Brian the +responsibility of refusing or accepting my offer.” + +He laughed, this good Count Ville-Handry, he laughed heartily, no doubt +recalling his discussion with Sir Thorn, and his triumphant skill. + +“So,” he resumed, “I went to Mrs. Brian. Ah! she did not mince matters. +At the first word, she called me--God forgive her!--an old fool, and +plainly told me that I must never show myself again in Circus Street. + +“I insisted; but in vain. She would not even listen to me, the old +Puritan; and, when I became pressing, she dropped me a solemn curtsey, +and left me alone in the room, looking foolish enough, I am sure. + +“For the time, I had nothing to do but to go away. I did so, hoping that +her interview with her niece might induce her to change her mind. Not at +all. The next morning, when I called at the house, the servants said +Sir Thorn was out, and Mrs. Brian and Miss Brandon had just left for +Fontainebleau. The day after, the same result; and for a whole week the +doors remained closed. + +“I was becoming restless, when a commissionaire, one morning, brought +me a letter. It was Miss Brandon who wrote. She asked me to be that very +day, at four o’clock, in the Bois de Boulogne, near the waterfalls; +that she would ride out in the afternoon with Sir Thorn; that she would +escape from him, and meet me. + +“As a matter of course, I was punctual; and it was well I was so, for, +a few minutes after I got there, I saw her--or rather I felt her--coming +towards me, riding at full speed. When she reached me, she stopped +suddenly, and, jumping from her horse, said to me,-- + +“‘They watch me so jealously, that I could not write to you till to-day. +I am deeply wounded by this want of confidence, and I do not think I can +endure it any longer. Here I am, carry me off, let us go!’ + +“Never, O Daniel! never have I seen her look more marvellously beautiful +than she looked at that moment. She was flushed with excitement and the +rapid ride; her eyes shone with courage and passion; her lips trembled; +and then she said again,-- + +“‘I know I am ruining myself; and you yourself--you will probably +despise me. But never mind! Let us be gone!’” + +He paused, overcome with excitement; but, soon recovering, he +continued,-- + +“To hear a beautiful woman tell you that! Ah, Daniel! that is an +experience which alone is worth a man’s whole life. And yet I had the +courage, mad as I felt I was becoming, to speak to her words of calm +reason. Yes, I had the sublime courage, and the almost fortuitous +control over myself, to conjure her to retreat into her house. + +“She began to weep, and accused me of indifference. + +“But I had discovered a way out of the difficulty, and said to her,-- + +“‘Sarah, go home. Write to me what you have just told me, and I am sure +I shall compel your friends to grant me your hand.’ + +“This she did. + +“And what I had foreseen came to pass. In the face of such evidence of +what they called our madness, Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian dared not oppose +our plans any longer. After some little hesitations, and imposing +certain honorable conditions, they said to Sarah and myself,-- + +“‘You will have it so. Go, then, and get married.’” + +This is what Count Ville-Handry called chance, a “blessed chance,” as +he said, utterly unmindful of the whole chain of circumstances which he +himself related. From the accident that had befallen M. Elgin, and the +fainting-fit of Miss Brandon, to the meeting in the Bois de Boulogne +and the proposed runaway-match, all seemed to him perfectly natural and +simple,--even the sudden enthusiasm of a young, frivolous woman for his +political opinions, and the learning by heart of his speeches. + +Daniel was amazed. That a man like the count should be so perfectly +blind to the intrigue that was going on around him, seemed to him +incomprehensible. The count, however, was not so blind, that he should +not have at least suspected the nature of Daniel’s feelings. + +“What are you thinking of?” he asked. “Come, let us hear your opinion. +Tell us frankly that you suspect Miss Brandon, and accuse her of trying +to catch me in her snares, or, at least, of having selfish views.” + +“I do not say so,” stammered Daniel. + +“No, but you think so; and that is worse. Well, come; I think I can +convince you of your mistake. What do you think Miss Brandon would gain +by marrying me? A fortune, you say. I have only one word in reply; but +that is sufficient; Miss Brandon is richer than I am.” + +How, and at what price, Miss Brandon had managed to possess herself of +such a fortune, Daniel knew but too well from Maxime’s account; hence he +could not suppress a nervous shudder, which the count noticed, and which +irritated him. + +“Yes, richer than I am,” he repeated. “The oil-wells which she has +inherited from her father bring her in, bad years and good years, from +thirty to forty thousand dollars a year, and that in spite of their +being sadly mismanaged. If they were well managed, they would produce, +three, four, or five times as much, or even more. Sir Thorn has proved +to me that they are an almost inexhaustible mine of wealth. If petroleum +was not fabulously profitable, how would you account for the oil-fever +with which these cool, calculating Americans have suddenly been seized, +and which has made more millionaires than the gold-fever in California +and the Territories? Ah! there is something to be made there yet, and +something grand, if one could dispose of a large capital.” + +He became excited, and forgot himself; but he soon checked himself. He +had evidently been on the point of letting a secret leak out. After a +few moments, he continued more calmly,-- + +“But enough of that. I trust your suspicions are removed. Next you +may tell me that Miss Brandon takes me because she can do no better. +Mistaken again, my friend. At this very moment she is called upon to +choose between me and a much younger man than I am, whose fortune, +moreover, is larger than mine,--Mr. Wilkie Gordon.” + +How did it come about that Count Ville-Handry seemed to appeal to +Daniel, and to plead his cause before him? Daniel did not even think +of asking himself that question; his mind was in a state of utter +confusion. Still, as the count insisted on having his opinion, as he +urged him, and repeatedly asked, “Well, do you see any other objection?” + he forgot at last his friend’s prudent warning, and said in a troubled +voice,-- + +“No doubt, count, you know Miss Brandon’s family?” + +“Certainly! Do you think I would buy a cat in a bag? Her excellent +father was a model of honesty.” + +“And--her previous life?” + +The count started from his chair, and, casting a savage glance at +Daniel, said,-- + +“Oh, oh! I see one of those rascally slanderers, who have tried to +tarnish the honor of the noblest and chastest of all women, has already +been at work here, anticipating my communication to you, and repeating +those infamous calumnies. You must give me the name of the scoundrel.” + +Unconsciously, almost, Daniel turned towards the door, behind which +M. de Brevan was listening. Perhaps he expected him to come forth; but +Maxime did not stir. + +“Sarah’s previous life!” continued the count. “I know every hour of it; +and I can answer for it as for my own. The darling! Before consenting +to be mine, she insisted upon my knowing every thing, yes, every thing, +without reserve or boastfulness; and I know what she has suffered. Did +they not actually say she had been the accomplice of a wretched thief, a +cashier of some bank, who had become a defaulter? Did they not say that +she had driven a foolish young man, a gambler, to commit suicide; and +that she had watched, unmoved, the tortures of his agony? Ah! you +have only to look at Miss Brandon to know that these vile stories are +wretched inventions of malicious enemies and rivals. And look here, +Daniel; you may believe me; whenever you see people calumniate a man +or a woman, you may rest assured that that man or woman has, somehow +or other, wounded or humiliated some vulgar person, some mean, envious +fool, who cannot endure his or her superiority in point of fortune, +rank, or beauty and talent.” + +He had actually recovered his youthful energy in thus defending his +beloved. His eye brightened up; his voice became strong, and his +gestures animated. + +“But no more of that painful topic,” he said: “let us talk seriously.” + +He rose, and leaning on the mantelpiece, so as to face Daniel, he +said,-- + +“I told you, my dear Daniel, that Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian insisted upon +certain conditions before they consented to our marriage. One is, that +Miss Brandon is to be received by my relations as she deserves to +be, not only respectfully, but affectionately, even tenderly. As to +relations, there is not any. I have some remote cousins, who, having +nothing to expect from me when I die, do not trouble themselves any more +about me than I trouble myself about them. But I have a daughter; and +there is the danger. I know she is distressed at the idea of my marrying +again. She cannot bear the mere idea that another woman is to take the +place of her mother, to bear her name, and to rule in my house.” + +Daniel began at last to know what he had to understand by that +unsuccessful appointment which had procured him the pleasure of a visit +from Count Ville-Handry. + +“Now,” continued the latter, “I know my daughter. She is her mother over +again, weak, but obstinate beyond endurance. If she has taken it into +her head to receive Miss Brandon uncivilly, she will do so, in spite of +all she has promised me, and she will make a terrible scene of it. +And if Miss Brandon consents, in spite of all, to go on, my house will +become a hell to me, and my wife will suffer terribly. Now the question +is, whether I have sufficient influence over Henrietta to bring her to +reason. I think not. But this influence which I have not--a very nice +young man may have it; and that man is you.” + +Daniel had turned red. It was for the first time that the count spoke so +clearly. He went on,-- + +“I have never disapproved of my poor wife’s plans; and the proof is, +that I have allowed you to pay your attentions to my daughter. But now I +make this condition: if my daughter is to Miss Brandon what she ought +to be to her, a tender and devoted sister, then, six months after my +wedding, there shall be another wedding at my house.” + +Daniel was about to speak; but he stopped him, saying,-- + +“No, not a word! I have shown you the wisdom of my decision, and you may +act accordingly.” + +He had already put on his hat and opened the door, when he added,-- + +“Ah! one word more. Miss Brandon has asked me to present you to her +to-night. She wants to speak to you. Come and dine with me; and after +dinner we will go to Circus Street. Now, pray think of what I have told +you, and good-by!” + + + + +VII. + +Count Ville-Handry had hardly closed the door, when M. de Brevan rushed +out of the bedroom in which he had been concealed. + +“Was I right?” he exclaimed. + +But Daniel did not hear him. He had forgotten his very presence. +Overcome by the great effort he had made to conceal his emotions, he had +sunk into a chair, hiding his face in his hands, and said to himself +in a mournful voice, and as if trying to convince himself of an +overwhelming fact,-- + +“The count has lost his mind altogether, and we are lost.” + +The grief of this excellent young man was so great and so bitter, that +M. de Brevan seemed to be deeply moved. He looked at him for some +time with an air of pity, and then suddenly, as if yielding to a good +impulse, he touched his shoulder, and said,-- + +“Daniel!” + +The unhappy man started like one who has suddenly been roused from deep +slumber; and, as he recalled what had just happened, he said,-- + +“You have heard all, Maxime?” + +“All! I have not lost a word nor a gesture. But do not blame me for my +indiscretion. It enables me to give you some friendly advice. You know I +have paid dear for my experience.” + +He hesitated, being at a loss how to express his ideas; then he +continued in a short, sharp tone,-- + +“You love Miss Ville-Handry?” + +“More than my life, don’t you know?” + +“Well, if that is so, abandon all thoughts of useless resistance; induce +Miss Henrietta to do as her father wishes; and persuade Miss Brandon to +let your wedding take place a month after her own. But ask for special +pledges. Miss Ville-Handry may suffer somewhat during that month; but +the day after your wedding you will carry her off to your own home, and +leave the poor old man to his amorous folly.” + +Daniel showed in his face that this suggestion opened a new prospect +before him. + +“I had not thought of that,” he said. + +“It is all you can do.” + +“Yes, it is what prudence would advise me to do. But can I do so in +honor?” + +“Oh, honor, honor!” + +“Would it not be wrong in me to abandon the poor old man to the mercy of +Miss Brandon and her accomplices?” + +“You will never be able to rescue him, my dear fellow.” + +“I ought at least to try. You thought so yesterday, and even this +morning, not two hours ago.” + +Maxime could scarcely hide his impatience. + +“I did not know then what I know now,” he said. + +Daniel had risen, and was walking up and down the small room, replying +to his own objections, rather than to those raised by Brevan. + +“If I were alone master,” he said, “I might, perhaps, agree to a +capitulation. But could Henrietta accept it? Never, never! Her father +knows her well. She is as weak as a child; but at the proper moment she +can develop a masculine energy and an iron will.” + +“Why should you tell her at all who Miss Brandon is?” + +“I have pledged my word of honor to tell her every thing.” + +Brevan again shrugged his shoulders, and there was no mistaking what he +meant by that gesture. He might just as well have said aloud, “Can one +conceive such stupidity?” + +“Then you had better give up your Henrietta, my poor fellow,” he said. + +But Daniel’s despair had been overcome. He ground his teeth with anger, +and said,-- + +“Not yet, my friend, not yet! An honest man who defends his honor and +his life is pretty strong. I have no experience, that is true; but I +have you, Maxime; and I know I can always count upon you.” + +Daniel did not seem to have noticed that M. de Brevan, at first all fire +and energy, had rapidly cooled off, like a man, who, having ventured too +far, thinks he has made a mistake, and tries to retrace his steps. + +“Certainly you may count upon me,” he replied; “but what can be done?” + +“Well, what you said yourself. I shall call upon Miss Brandon, and watch +her. I shall dissemble, and gain time. If necessary, I shall employ +detectives, and find out her antecedents. I shall try to interest some +high personage in my behalf,--my minister, for instance, who is very +kind to me. Besides, I have an idea.” + +“Ah!” + +“That unlucky cashier, whose story you told me, and who, you think, is +not dead--if we could find him. How did you call him? Oh, Malgat! An +advertisement inserted in all the leading newspapers of Europe would, no +doubt, reach him; and the hope of seeing himself avenged”-- + +M. de Brevan’s cheeks began to redden perceptibly. He broke out with +strange vehemence,-- + +“What nonsense!” + +Then he added, more collectedly,-- + +“You forget that Malgat has been sentenced to I know not how many years’ +penal servitude, and that he will see in your advertisement a trick of +the police; so that he will only conceal himself more carefully than +ever.” + +But Daniel was not so easily shaken. He said,-- + +“I will think it over. I will see. Perhaps something might be done with +that young man whom the count mentioned, that M. Wilkie Gordon. If I +thought he was really anxious for Miss Brandon’s hand”-- + +“I have heard it said, and I am sure it is so, the young man is one of +those idiots whom vanity renders insane, and who do not know what to do +in order to make themselves notorious. Miss Brandon being very famous, +he would marry her, just as he would pay a hundred thousand dollars for +a famous racer.” + +“And how do you account for Miss Brandon’s refusal?” + +“By the character of the man, whom I know very well, and whom she knows +as well. She is quite aware that, three months after the wedding, he +would decamp, and in less than a year she would be divorced. Then there +is another thing: Wilkie is only twenty-five years old; and you know a +fellow at that age is likely to live a good deal longer than a lover who +is beyond the sixties.” + +The way in which he said this lent to his words a terrible significance; +and Daniel, turning pale, stammered out,-- + +“Great God! Do you think Miss Brandon could”-- + +“Could do anything, most assuredly,--except, perhaps, get into trouble +with the police. I have heard her say that only fools employ poison or +the dagger.” + +A strange smile passed over his lips; and he added in a tone of horrible +irony,-- + +“It is true there are other means, less prompt, perhaps, but much safer, +by which people may be removed when they become inconvenient. + +“What means? The same, no doubt, which she had employed to get rid +of poor Kergrist, and that unlucky Malgat, the cashier of the Mutual +Discount Society. Purely moral means, based upon her thorough knowledge +of the character of her victims, and her own infernal power over them.” + +But Daniel tried in vain to obtain more light from his friend. Brevan +answered evasively; perhaps because he did not dare to speak out freely, +and reveal his real thoughts; or because it lay in his plans to +be content with having added this horrible fear to all the other +apprehensions of his friend. + +His embarrassment, just now unmistakable, had entirely disappeared, as +if he had come to a final decision after long hesitation. He who had +first advised all kinds of concessions now suggested the most energetic +resistance, and seemed to be confident of success. + +When he at last left Daniel, he had made him promise to keep him hour +by hour informed of all that might happen, and, above all, to try every +means in his power to unmask Miss Brandon. + +“How he hates her!” said Daniel to himself when he was alone,--“how he +hates her!” + +But this very hatred, which had already troubled him the night before, +now disturbed him more and more, and kept him from coming to any +decision. The more he reflected, the more it seemed to him that Maxime +had allowed himself to be carried away beyond what was probable, or +even possible. The last accusation, especially, seemed to him perfectly +monstrous. + +A young and beautiful woman, consumed by ambition and covetousness, +might possibly play a comedy of pure love while she was disgusted in her +heart. She might catch by vile tricks a foolish old man, and make him +marry her, openly and avowedly selling her beauty and her youth. Such +things happen, and are excused by the morality of our day. The same +wicked, heartless woman might speculate upon becoming speedily a widow, +and thus regaining her liberty, together with a large fortune. This also +happens, however horrible it may appear. But that she should marry a +poor old fool, with the preconceived purpose of hastening his end by a +deliberate crime, there was a depth in that wickedness which terrified +Daniel’s imagination. + +Deeply ensconced in his chair, he was losing himself in conjectures, +forgetting how time passed, and how his work was waiting for him, even +the invitation to dinner which the count had given to him, and the +prospect of being introduced that very evening to Miss Brandon. Night +came; and then only his concierge, who came in to see what had become of +him all day long, aroused him from his torpor. + +“Ah, I am losing my senses!” he exclaimed, rising suddenly. “And +Henrietta, who has been waiting for me--what must she think of me?” + +Miss Ville-Handry, at that very moment, had reached that degree of +anxiety which becomes well-nigh intolerable. After having waited for +Daniel all the evening of the day before, and after having spent a +sleepless night, she had surely expected him to-day, counting the +seconds by the beating of her heart, and starting at the noise of every +carriage in the street. In her despair, knowing hardly what she was +doing, she was thinking of running herself to University Street, to +Daniel’s house, when the door opened. + +In the same indifferent tone in which he announced friends and enemies, +the servant said,-- + +“M. Daniel Champcey.” + +Henrietta was up in a moment. She was about to exclaim,-- + +“What has kept you? What has happened?” But the words died away on her +lips. + +It had been sufficient for her to look at Daniel’s sad face to feel that +a great misfortune had befallen her. + +“Ah! you had been right in your fears,” she said, sinking into a chair. + +“Alas!” + +“Speak: let me know all.” + +“Your father has come to me, and offered me your hand, Henrietta, +provided I can obtain your consent to his marriage with Miss Brandon. +Now, listen to me; and then you can decide.” + +Faithful to his promise, he thereupon told her every thing he had +learned from Maxime and the count, suppressing only those details which +would have made the poor girl blush, and also that terrible charge which +he was unwilling to believe. + +When he had ended, Henrietta said warmly,-- + +“What! I should allow my father to marry such a creature? I should sit +still and smile when such dishonor and such ruin are coming to a house +over which my mother has presided! No; far be it from me ever to be so +selfish! I shall oppose Miss Brandon’s plans with all my strength and +all my energy.” + +“She may triumph, after all.” + +“She shall not triumph over my resistance and my contempt. Never--do you +hear me, Daniel?--never will I bow down before her. Never shall my hand +touch hers. And, if my father persists, I shall ask him, the day before +his wedding, to allow me to bury myself in a convent.” + +“He will not let you go.” + +“Then I shall shut myself up in my room, and never leave it again. I do +not think they will drag me out by force.” + +There was no mistaking it; she spoke with an earnestness and a +determination which nothing could shake or break. And yet the very +saddest presentiments oppressed Daniel’s heart. He said,-- + +“But Miss Brandon will certainly not come alone to this house.” + +“Whom will she bring with her?” + +“Her relatives, M. Thomas Elgin and Mrs. Brian. Oh Henrietta, dearest +Henrietta! to think that you should be exposed to the spite and the +persecution of these wretches!” + +She raised her head proudly, and replied,-- + +“I am not afraid of them.” Then she added in a gentler tone,-- + +“Besides, won’t you always be near me, to advise me, and to protect me +in case of danger?” + +“I? Don’t you think they will try to part us soon enough?” + +“No, Daniel, I know very well that the house will no longer be open to +you.” + +“Well?” + +The poor girl blushed up to the roots of her hair, and, turning her. +eyes away from him to avoid his looks, she said,-- + +“Since they force us to do so, I must needs do a thing a girl, properly +speaking, ought not to do. We will meet secretly. I shall have to stoop +to win over one of my waiting-women, who may be discreet and obliging +enough to aid me, and, through her, I will write to you, and receive +your letters.” + +But this arrangement did not relieve Daniel from his terrible +apprehensions. There was a question which constantly rose to his lips, +and which still he did not dare to utter. At last, making a great +effort, he asked,-- + +“And then?” + +Henrietta understood perfectly what he meant. She answered,-- + +“I thought you would be able to wait until the day should come when the +law would authorize me to make my own choice.” + +“Henrietta!” + +She offered him her hand, and said solemnly,-- + +“And on that day, Daniel, I promise you, if my father still withholds +his consent, I will ask you openly for your arm; and then, in broad +daylight, before all the world, I shall leave this house never to +re-enter it again.” + +As quick as thought, Daniel had seized her hand, and, carrying it to his +lips, he said,--“Thanks! A thousand thanks! You restore me to hope.” + +Still, before abandoning the effort, he thought he would try one more +measure; and for that purpose it was necessary that Henrietta should be +induced to conceal her intentions as long as possible. It was only with +great difficulty that he succeeded in obtaining her consent. + +“I will do what you desire; but believe me, all your efforts will be in +vain.” + +She was interrupted by the arrival of Count Ville-Handry. He kissed +his daughter, said a few words about rain and fine weather; and then, +drawing Daniel into one of the windows, he asked-- + +“Have you spoken to her?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well?” + +“Miss Henrietta wants a few days to consider.” + +The count looked displeased, and said,-- + +“That is absurd. Nothing can be more ridiculous. But, after all, it is +your business, my dear Daniel. And, if you want any additional motive, +I will tell you that my daughter is very rich. She has a quarter of a +million of her own.” + +“Sir!” exclaimed Daniel indignantly. + +But Count Ville-Handry had already turned upon his heels; and the butler +came to announce that dinner was on the table. + +The meal, though excellent in itself, was necessarily very dull and +sad. It was promptly despatched; for the count seemed to be sitting on +needles, and every minute looked at his watch. + +They had but just handed the coffee around, when he turned to Daniel, +saying,-- + +“Let us make haste. Miss Brandon expects us.” + +Daniel was instantly ready. But the count did not even give him time to +take leave of Henrietta; he carried him off to his carriage, pushed him +in, jumped in after him, and called out to the servant,--“Circus Street! +Miss Brandon! Drive fast!” + + + + +VIII. + +The servants knew very well what the count meant when he said, “Drive +fast!” The coachman, on such occasions, made his horses literally go as +fast as they could; and, but for his great skill, the foot-passengers +would have been in considerable danger. Nevertheless, on this evening +Count Ville-Handry twice lowered the window to call out,-- + +“Don’t drive at a walk!” + +The fact is, that, in spite of his efforts to assume the air of a grave +statesman, he was as impatient, and as vain of his love, as a young +collegian hurrying to his first rendezvous with his beloved. During +dinner he had been sullen and silent; now he became talkative, and +chatted away, without troubling himself about the silence of his +companion. + +To be sure, Daniel did not even listen. Half-buried in the corner of the +well-padded carriage, he tried his best to control his emotions; for he +was excited, more excited than ever in his life, by the thought that he +was to see, face to face, this formidable adventuress, Miss Brandon. And +like the wrestler, who, before making a decisive assault, gathers up all +his strength, he summoned to his aid his composure and his energy. +It took them not more than ten minutes to drive the whole distance to +Circus Street. + +“Here we are!” cried the count. + +And, without waiting for the steps to be let down, he jumped on the +sidewalk, and, running ahead of his servants, knocked at the door of +Miss Brandon’s house. It was by no means one of those modern structures +which attract the eye of the passer-by by a ridiculous and conspicuous +splendor. Looking at it from the street, you would have taken it for the +modest house of a retired grocer, who was living in it upon his savings +at the rate of two or three thousand a year. It is true, that from +the street, you could see neither the garden, nor the stables and the +carriage-houses. + +In the meantime a servant had appeared, who took the count’s and +Daniel’s coats, and showed them up stairs. When they reached the upper +landing, the count stopped, as if his breath had been giving out of a +sudden. + +“There,” he stammered, “there!” + +“Where? What?” Daniel did not know what he meant. The count only wished +to say that “there” was the place where he had held Miss Brandon in +his arms the day she had fainted. But Daniel had no time to ask any +questions. Another servant appeared, coming out of the rooms, and, +bowing low before Count Ville-Handry, he said,-- + +“The ladies have but just risen from table, and are still dressing.” + +“Ah!” + +“If the gentlemen will please sit down in the parlor, I will tell M. +Elgin.” + +“Very well,” said the count, speaking in a tone which showed that he +considered himself perfectly at home in Miss Brandon’s house. He entered +the parlor, followed by Daniel. It was a magnificent room; but every +thing in it, from the carpet on the floor to the chandelier on the +ceiling, betrayed the Puritanic taste of Mrs. Brian. It was splendid; +but the splendor was cold, stiff, and mournful. The furniture had sharp +angles, and suggested any thing but comfort. The bronze figures on the +mantlepiece-clock were biblical personages; and the other bronzes were +simply hideous. Except these, there was no ornament visible, not a +painting, nor a statuette. + +Yes, one. Opposite the fireplace, in the place of honor, there stared +at you a painting in a most costly gilt frame,--a horrible daub, +representing a man of about fifty years, who wore a fancy uniform with +enormous epaulets, a huge sword, a plumed hat, and a blue sash, into +which two revolvers were thrust. + +“Gen. Brandon, Miss Sarah’s father,” said Count Ville-Handry, in a tone +of deep respect, which unnerved Daniel. “As a work of art, this portrait +leaves, no doubt, much to be wished for; but they say the likeness is +excellent.” + +Certainly, though that might be so, there was no resemblance to be +discovered between the tanned face of this American general and the +blooming features of Miss Brandon. But there was something more. As +Daniel examined this picture nearer by, and more closely, he thought he +discovered a studied and intentional coarseness of execution. It looked +to him like the work of an artist who had endeavored to imitate those +wretched painters who live upon the vanity of weak men and little +children. He thought he discovered by the side of gross inaccuracies +unmistakable traces of a master’s hand; and especially one of the ears, +half hid behind the hair, seemed to him admirably done. + +But, before he could draw his conclusions from this strange discovery, +M. Thomas Elgin appeared in the room. He was in evening costume, looking +taller and stiffer than ever in his white cravat; and, as he came +forward, he halted a little on one foot, though leaning upon a big cane. + +“What, my dear Sir Thorn!” exclaimed the count, “your leg still gives +you trouble?” + +“Oh, a great deal!” replied the honorable gentleman, with a very marked +English accent,--“a great deal since this morning. The doctor thinks +there must be something the matter with the bone.” + +At the same time, obeying the tendency which we all have to display our +ailments, he slightly drew up his trousers, so that the bandages became +visible which he wore around his leg. Count Ville-Handry looked at it +with pity; then, forgetting that he had introduced Daniel already the +night before at the opera, he presented him once more; and, when the +ceremony was over, he said to Sir Thorn,-- + +“Upon my word, I am almost ashamed to appear so early; but I knew you +expected company to-night.” + +“Oh, only a few persons!” + +“And I desired to see you for a few moments alone.” + +A strange grimace represented the only smile of which the honorable +gentleman was capable. He made it twice, and then said, caressing his +primly-cut whiskers,-- + +“They have told Miss Sarah that you are here, my dear count; and I heard +her tell Mrs. Brian that she was nearly ready. I cannot imagine how she +can spend so much time at her toilet.” + +They were thus chatting away before the fireplace, Sir Thorn stretched +out in an easy-chair, and the count leaning against the mantlepiece, +while Daniel had withdrawn into the embrasure of a window which looked +upon the court-yard and the garden behind the house. There, his brow +pressed against the cool window-panes, he was meditating. He could not +understand this wound of M. Elgin’s. + +“Is it possible that his fall was an intentional fall?” he thought, “or +did he really break his leg? If he did so, that fainting-fit might have +been natural, and not prearranged; but”-- + +He was just plunging into these doubts and speculations, when the noise +of a carriage entering the court-yard, aroused him from his thoughts. + +He looked out. A _coupe_ had driven up to the back porch of the house. A +lady stepped out; and he was on the point of uttering a cry of surprise, +for he thought he recognized Miss Sarah in that woman. But could that be +so? He was unwilling to believe it, when she suddenly raised her head in +order to speak to the coachman, and the light from the lamps fell full +upon her face. + +There was no doubt now on his mind. It was Miss Brandon. + +She flew up the steps, and entered the house. He heard distinctly the +heavy door close behind her. + +At the opera, the night before, a single word uttered by Miss Brandon +had sufficed to enlighten Daniel. But now this was a very different +matter. It was a potent fact, unmistakable and tangible, which came to +him in support of his suspicions. + +In order to increase the passionate impatience of the count, they had +told him that Miss Brandon was still dressing, but that she was making +all haste to come down to him. Not a word had been said of her being +out, and of her return at that very moment. Where had she been? What new +intrigues had compelled her to leave the house just then? It must have +evidently been something of great importance to have kept her out till +so late an hour, and when she knew, moreover, that the count was waiting +for her. + +This incident threw a flood of light on the cunning policy pursued in +this house, and on the clever and active complicity of M. Thomas Elgin +and Mrs. Brian. What their game really was, and how Count Ville-Handry +had been caught in the trap, he now understood well enough; he would +have been caught in it himself. + +How clever these actors were! how perfect all the arrangements! and how +scientifically the smallest details were prepared! How marvellously well +even the parlor was arranged to serve the purposes of the owners! This +simple elegance could not but banish all doubts; and this horrible +portrait of the so-called Gen. Brandon--what a stroke of genius! + +As to the lame leg of Sir Thorn, Daniel no longer believed in it. + +“His leg is no more broken than mine,” he thought. + +But at the same time he marvelled at the self-denial of this gentleman, +who, in order to prove a falsehood, consented to wear his leg bandaged +up for months, as if it really had been severely injured. + +“And to-night,” said Daniel to himself, “the performance, no doubt, is +to be specially artistic, as they expected me.” + +Still, like a duellist, who tries to regain all his strength after a +sleepless night, Daniel was now fully prepared for the battle. He even +returned to the fireplace, for fear that his standing alone, and his +preoccupation, might betray his thoughts. + +The conversation between Count Ville-Handry and M. Elgin had in the +meantime become very familiar; and the count was just detailing all his +arrangements for the approaching wedding. He would live, he said, with +his wife in the second story of his palace. The first story was to be +divided into two suites of apartments,--one for M. Thomas Elgin, and the +other for Mrs. Brian; for he knew very well that his adored Sarah would +never consent to part with her dear relatives, who had been father and +mother to her. + +The last words remained in his throat; he stood as if he were petrified, +his eyes starting from their sockets, his mouth wide open. + +Mrs. Brian had entered the room, followed by Miss Brandon. Daniel was +even more struck by her strange beauty to-day than at the opera; it +was literally dazzling. She wore on that night a dress of tea-color +embroidered with tiny bouquets in Chinese silk, and trimmed below with +an immense flounce of plaited muslin. In her hair, which looked even +more carelessly put up than usually, she had nothing but a branch of +fuschia, the crimson bells falling gracefully down upon her neck, where +they mingled with her golden curls. + +She came smilingly up to Count Ville-Handry, and, offering him her brow +to kiss, she said,-- + +“Do I look well, dear count?” + +He trembled from head to foot; and all he could do was to stretch out +his lips, and to stammer in an almost ecstatic tone of voice,-- + +“Oh, beautiful! too beautiful!” + +“It has taken you long enough, I am sure,” said Sir Thorn +severely,--“too long!” + +He might have known that Miss Brandon had accomplished a miracle of +expeditiousness; for it was not a quarter of an hour since she returned +to the house. + +“You are an impertinent villain, Thorn,” she said, laughing in the fresh +and hearty manner of a child; “and I am very happy that the presence of +the count relieves _me_ from your eternal sermons.” + +“Sarah!” exclaimed Mrs. Brian reprovingly. + +But she had already turned round, with her hand outstretched towards +Daniel,-- + +“I am so glad you have come, sir!” she said. “I am sure we shall +understand each other admirably.” + +She told him this with the softest possible voice; but, if he had known +her better, he would have read in the way in which she looked at him, +that her disposition towards him had entirely changed since yesterday; +then she wished him well; now she hated him savagely. + +“Understand each other?” he repeated as he bowed; “in what?” + +She made no answer. + +The servant announced some of the usual visitors; and she went to +receive them. Ten o’clock struck; and from that moment the invited +guests did not cease to arrive. At eleven o’clock there were perhaps a +hundred persons in the room; and in the two adjoining rooms card-tables +had been arranged. + +It appeared that the gentlemen who showed themselves there--old +men mostly, amply decorated with foreign orders, and young men in +extravagantly fashionable costumes--were not free from suspicion; but +they all belonged to Paris high-life, to that society, which, under a +dazzlingly brilliant outside, conceals hideous crimes, and allows now +and then traces of real misery to be seen through the rents in the +splendid livery worn by its members. + +Some of these men stood, by the name they bore or the position they +filled, high above the rest of the company; they were easily recognized +by their haughty manner, and the intense deference with which their +slightest remarks were received. And to this crowd Count Ville-Handry +displayed his good-fortune. He assumed all the airs of the master of the +house; as if he had been in his own house, gave orders to the servants, +and then, with mock modesty, went from group to group, eagerly picking +up all the compliments he could gather on Miss Brandon’s beauty, and his +own good luck. + +Gracefully reclining in an easy-chair near the fireplace, Miss Sarah +looked a young queen surrounded by her court. But in spite of the +multitude of her admirers, and the number of compliments she received at +every moment, she never for a moment lost sight of Daniel, watching him +all the time stealthily, to read his thoughts in his features. + +Once she even shocked the crowd of her worshippers by suddenly leaving +her place in order to ask him why he held himself so aloof, and whether +he felt indisposed. Then, seeing that he was a perfect stranger here, +she was good enough to point out to him some of the most remarkable men +in the crowd. In doing this, she was so anxious to make him aware of her +distinguished friends, that Daniel began to think she must have divined +his intentions, and thus indirectly defied him, as if she had said in so +many words,-- + +“You see what friends I have, and how they would defend me if you should +dare to attack me.” + +Nevertheless, he was not discouraged, being fully aware of all the +difficulties of his undertaking, and having long since counted up all +the obstacles in his way. While the conversation was going on around +him, he arranged in his head a plan, which, he hoped, would enable him +to find out the antecedents of this dangerous adventuress. + +These thoughts preoccupied him to such a degree, that he did not become +aware how the rooms became gradually empty. It was so, nevertheless; and +there were finally only a few intimate friends left, and four players at +a card-table. + +Then Miss Brandon arose, and, coming up to Daniel, said to him,-- + +“Will you grant me ten minutes’ conversation, sir?” + +He prepared to follow her, when Mrs. Brian interposed, saying a few +words in a tone of reproach to her niece. Daniel knew enough English to +understand that she said,-- + +“What you are doing is highly improper, Sarah.” + +“Shocking!” added M. Thomas Elgin. + +But she shrugged her shoulders slightly, and replied in English,-- + +“My dear count alone would have a right to judge my conduct; and he has +authorized me to do what I am doing.” + +Then turning to Daniel, she said to him in French,-- + +“Come with me, sir.” + + + + +IX. + +Miss Sarah led Daniel to a small boudoir adjoining her own room. Nothing +could be fresher and more coquettish than this little room, which looked +almost like a greenhouse, so completely was it filled with rare and +fragrant flowers, while the door and window-frames were overgrown +with luxuriant creepers. In the windows stood large vases filled with +flowers; and the light bamboo chairs were covered with the same bright +silk with which the walls were hung. If the great reception-room +reflected the character of Mrs. Brian, this charming boudoir represented +Miss Brandon’s own exquisite taste. + +She sat down on a small sofa and began, after a short pause,-- + +“My aunt was right; it would have been more proper for me to convey to +you through M. Elgin what I want to say. But I have the independence +of all the girls of my country; and, when my interests are at stake, I +trust no one but myself.” + +She was bewitching in her ingenuousness as she uttered these words with +the air of a little child who looks cunning, and determined to undertake +something that appears quite formidable. + +“I am told that my dear count has been to see you this afternoon,” she +continued, “and you have heard that in less than a month I shall be the +Countess Ville-Handry?” + +Daniel was surprised. In less than a month! What could be done in so +little time? + +“Now, sir,” continued Miss Brandon, “I wish to hear from your own lips +whether you see--any--objections to this match.” + +She spoke so frankly, that it was evident she was utterly unconscious of +that article in the code of social laws which prescribes that a French +girl must never mention the word “marriage” without blushing to the +roots of her hair. Daniel, on the contrary, was terribly embarrassed. + +“I confess,” he replied with much hesitation, “that I do not understand, +that I cannot possibly explain to myself, why you do me the honor”-- + +“To consult you? Pardon me; I think you understand me perfectly well. +Have they not promised you Miss Ville-Handry’s hand?” + +“The count has permitted me to hope”-- + +“He has pledged his word, sir, under certain conditions. My dear count +has told me every thing. I speak, therefore, to Count Ville-Handry’s +son-in-law, and I repeat, Do you see any objections to this match?” + +The question was too precisely put to allow of any prevarication. And +still Daniel was bent upon gaining time, and avoiding any positive +answer. For the first time in his life he said a falsehood; and, turning +crimson all over, he stammered out,-- + +“I see no objection.” + +“Really?” + +“Really.” + +She shook her head, and then said very slowly,-- + +“If that is so, you will not refuse me a great favor. Carried away by +her grief at seeing her father marry again, Miss Ville-Handry hates me. +Will you promise me to use your influence in trying to persuade her to +change her disposition towards me?” + +Never had honest Daniel Champcey been tried so hard. He answered +diplomatically,-- + +“I am afraid you overestimate my influence.” + +She looked at him suddenly with such a sharp and penetrating glance that +he felt almost startled, and then said,-- + +“I do not ask of you to succeed, only promise me upon your honor that +you will do your best, and I shall be very much obliged to you. Will you +give me that promise?” + +Could he do so? The situation was so exceptional, Daniel had at all +cost to lull the enemy into security for a time, and for a moment he was +inclined to pledge his honor. Nay, more than that, he made an effort to +do it. But his lips refused to utter a false oath. + +“You see,” resumed Miss Brandon very coldly, “you see you were deceiving +me.” + +And, turning away from him, she hid her face in her hands, apparently +overcome by grief, and repeated in a tone of deep sorrow,-- + +“What a disgrace! Great God! What a humiliation!” + +But suddenly she started up again, her face bright with a glow of hope, +and cried out,-- + +“Well, be it so. I like it all the better so. A mean man would not have +hesitated at an oath, however determined he might have been not to keep +it. Whilst you--I can trust you; you are a man of honor, and all is not +lost yet. Whence comes your aversion? Is it a question of money, the +count’s fortune?” + +“Miss Brandon!” + +“No, it is not that, I see. I was quite sure of it. What, then, can it +be? Tell me, sir, I beseech you! tell me something.” + +What could he tell her? Daniel remained silent. + +“Very well,” said Sarah, clinching her teeth convulsively. “I +understand.” + +She made a supreme effort not to break out in sobs; and big tears, +resembling diamonds of matchless beauty, rolled slowly down from between +her long, trembling eyelashes. + +“Yes,” she said, “I understand. The atrocious calumnies which my enemies +have invented have reached you; and you have believed them. They have, +no doubt, told you that I am an adventuress, come from nowhere; that my +father, the brave defender of the Union, exists only in the painting +in my parlor; that no one knows where my income comes from; that +Thorn, that noble soul, and Mrs. Brian, a saint upon earth, are vile +accomplices of mine. Confess, you have been told all that, and you have +believed it.” + +Grand in her wrath, her cheeks burning, her lips trembling, she rose, +and added in a tone of bitter sarcasm,-- + +“Ah! When people are called upon to admire a noble deed, they refuse +to believe, they insist upon inquiring before they admire, they examine +carefully. But, if they are told something bad, they dispense with that +ceremony; however monstrous the thing may appear, however improbable it +may sound, they believe it instantly. They would not touch a child; but +they do not hesitate to repeat a slander which dishonors a woman, and +kills her as surely as a dagger. If I were a man, and had been told +that Miss Brandon was an adventuress, I would have been bent upon +ascertaining the matter. America is not so far off. I should have soon +found the ten thousand men who had served under Gen. Brandon, and they +would have told me what sort of a man their chief had been. I should +have examined the oil-regions of Pennsylvania; and I would have learned +there that the petroleum-wells belonging to M. Elgin, Mrs. Brian, and +Miss Brandon produce more than many a principality.” + +Daniel was amazed at the candor and the boldness with which this young +girl approached the terrible subject. To enable her to speak with such +energy and in such a tone, she must either be possessed of unsurpassed +impudence, or--he had to confess it--be innocent. + +Overcome by the effort she had made, she had sunk back upon the sofa, +and continued in a lower tone of voice, as if speaking to herself,-- + +“But have I a right to complain? I reap as I have sown. Alas! Thorn has +told me so often enough, and I would not believe him. I was not twenty +years old when I came to Paris, after my poor father’s death. I had been +brought up in America, where young girls know no other law but that of +their own consciences. They tell us at home, all the time, that it is +our first duty to be truthful. In France, young girls are taught that +hypocrisy is their first duty. We are taught not to blush, except +when we have done wrong; they are taught all the appearances of false +prudishness. In France, they work hard to save appearances; with us, +we aim at reality. In Philadelphia, I did every thing I chose to do, +provided I did not think it was wrong. I thought I could do the same +here. Poor me! I did not count upon the wickedness of the world. I went +out alone, on horseback, in the morning. I went alone to church, to pray +to God. If I wanted any thing for my toilet, I sent for the carriage, +and drove out, alone, to buy it. When a man spoke to me, I did not feel +bound to cast down my eyes; and, if he was amusing and witty, I laughed. +If a new fashion pleased me, I adopted it. I committed all these crimes. +I was young, rich, popular. These were as many more crimes. And after I +had been here a year, they said that Malgat, that wretch”-- + +She jumped up as she said this, ran up to Daniel, and, seizing him by +the hands, she said,-- + +“Malgat! Have they talked to you about Malgat?” + +And, as he hesitated to answer, she added:-- + +“Ah, answer me! Don’t you see that your hesitation is an insult?” + +“Well--yes.” + +As if in utter despair, she raised her hands to heaven, calling God, as +it were, to witness, and asking for inspiration from on high. Then she +added suddenly,-- + +“But I have proofs, irrefutable proofs of Malgat’s rascality.” + +And, without waiting for another word, she hurried into the adjoining +room. Daniel, moved to the bottom of his heart, remained standing where +he was, immovable, like a statue. + +He was utterly confounded and overcome by the charm of that marvellous +voice, which passed through the whole gamut of passion with such a +sonorous ring, and yet with such sweet languor, that it seemed by turns +to sob and to threaten, to sigh with sadness and to thunder with wrath. + +“What a woman!” he said to himself, repeating thus unconsciously the +words uttered by M. de Brevan. + +“What a woman! And how well she defends herself.” + +But Miss Brandon was already back again, carrying in her arms a small +box of costly wood inlaid with jewels. She resumed her seat on the sofa; +and in that brief, sharp tone which betrays terrible passions restrained +with a great effort, she said,-- + +“Before all, I must thank you, M. Champcey, for your frankness, since it +enables me to defend myself. I knew that slander had attacked me; I felt +it, so to say, in the air I was breathing; but I had never been able yet +to take hold of it. Now, for the first time, I can face it; and I owe it +to you that I am able to defy it. Listen, therefore; for I swear to you +by all that is most sacred to me, by the memory of my sainted mother, +I swear to you solemnly, that you shall hear the truth, and nothing but +the truth.” + +She had opened the box, and was eagerly searching something among the +papers inside. She then continued, in feverish haste,-- + +“M. Malgat was the cashier and confidential clerk of the Mutual Discount +Society, a large and powerful company. M. Elgin had some business with +him, a few weeks after our arrival here, for the purpose of drawing +funds which he had in Philadelphia. He found him an exceedingly obliging +man, and, to show his appreciation, invited him to dine here. Thus he +became acquainted with Mrs. Brian and myself. He was a man of about +forty, of medium height, ordinary looking, very polite, but not refined +in his manners. The first time I looked at his light yellow eyes, I felt +disgusted and frightened. I read in his face an expression of base vice. +The impression was so strong, that I could not help telling M. Elgin how +sure I was this man would turn out a bad man, and that he ought not to +trust him in money-matters.” + +Daniel listened with breathless attention. This description of Malgat +impressed his portrait so deeply on his mind, that he thought he saw +him before his eyes, and would certainly recognize him if he should ever +meet him. + +“M. Elgin,” continued Miss Brandon, “only laughed at my presentiments; +and even Mrs. Brian, I remember distinctly, scolded me, saying it was +very wrong to judge a man by his appearance, and that there were +very honest men in the world who had yellow eyes. I must acknowledge, +moreover, that M. Malgat behaved perfectly well whenever he was here. +As M. Elgin did not know Paris, and had money to invest, he advised +him what to do. When we had drafts upon the Mutual Discount Society, he +always saved M. Elgin the trouble, and brought the money himself. +After a while, when M. Elgin took it into his head to try some small +speculations on ‘change, M. Malgat offered him his assistance, although +they never had any luck, in fact.” + +By this time Miss Brandon had found the papers she was looking for. She +handed them to Daniel, saying,-- + +“And, if you do not believe what I say, look at this.” + +There were a dozen square bits of paper, on which Malgat had reported +the result of his operations on ‘change, which he carried on on account +of, and with the money of, M. Elgin. All ended with these words:-- + +“We have lost considerably; but we may be more fortunate next time. +There is a capital chance on such and such funds; send me all the money +you can spare.” + +The words were always the same; the name of the funds alone varied in +each. + +“That is strange,” said Daniel. + +Miss Sarah shook her head. + +“Strange? Yes, indeed!” she replied. “But it does not help me in any +way. This letter, however, will tell you more. Read it, sir, and read it +aloud.” + +Daniel took the letter, and read,-- + + +“‘Paris, Dec. 5, 1865. + +“‘M. Thomas Elgin. _Dear Sir_,--It is to you alone, the most honorable +among men, that I can make the terrible confession that I have committed +a crime. + +“‘I am wretched. Employed by you in your speculations, I have given way +to temptation, and have speculated on my own account. One loss brought +about another, I lost my head; I hoped to recover my money; and now, at +this hour, I owe more than ten thousand dollars, which I have taken from +the safe of the society. + +“‘Will you have pity on me? Will you be so generous as to lend me that +sum? I may not be able to return it in less than six or seven years; but +I will repay you, I swear it, with interest. + +“‘I await your answer, like a criminal, who waits for the verdict. It +is a matter of life and death with me; and as you decide, so I may be +saved, or disgraced forever. A. Malgat.’” + + +On the margin, methodical M. Elgin had written in his angular +handwriting,-- + +“Answered immediately. Sent to M. M. ten thousand dollars, to be drawn +from funds deposited with the Mutual Discount Society. No interest to be +paid.” + +“And that,” stammered Daniel, “that is the man”-- + +“Whom they charge me with having turned aside from the paths of honesty; +yes, sir! Now you learn to know him. But wait. You see, he was saved. It +was not long before he appeared here, his false face bathed in tears. +I can find no words to convey to you the exaggerated expressions of his +gratitude. He refused to shake hands with M. Elgin, he said, because +he was no longer worthy of such honor. He spoke of nothing but of his +devotion unto death. It is true M. Elgin carried his generosity to an +extreme. He, a model of honesty, who would have starved to death rather +than touch the gold intrusted to his care,--he consoled Malgat, finding +all kinds of apology for him, telling him, that, after all, he was not +so very much to blame, that there were temptations too strong to be +resisted, and repeating even those paradoxical principles which have +been specially invented as an apology for thieves. Malgat had still +some money of his own; but M. Elgin did not ask him for it, for fear of +hurting his feelings. He continued to invite him, and urged him to come +and dine with us as heretofore.” + +She stopped, laughing in a nervous manner, which was painful to hear, +and then continued, in a hoarse voice,-- + +“Do you know, M. Champcey, how Malgat repaid all this kindness? Read +this note; it will restore me in your esteem, I trust.” + +It was another letter written by Malgat to M. Elgin, and ran thus,-- + + +“M. Elgin,--I have deceived you. It was not ten thousand dollars I had +taken, but sixty thousand five hundred dollars. + +“Thanks to false entries, I have been able to conceal my defalcations +until now; but I can do so no longer. The board of directors have begun +to suspect me; and the president has just told me that tomorrow the +books will be examined. I am lost. + +“I ought to kill myself, I know; but I have not the courage to do so. +I venture to ask you to furnish me the means of escaping from this +country. I beseech you on my knees, in the name of all that is dear to +you, for mercy’s sake; for I am penniless, and cannot even pay the fare +on the railway as far as the frontier. Nor can I return to my house; for +I am watched. + +“Once more, M. Elgin, have pity on a poor man, and leave the answer with +the concierge. I will come by about nine o’clock. A. Malgat.” + + +Not on the margin, as before, but across the lines, M. Elgin had written +these laconic words:-- + +“Answered immediately. No! The scamp!” + +Daniel could not have uttered a word to save his life; he was too +fearfully excited. Miss Brandon continued,-- + +“We were dining alone that day; and M. Elgin was so indignant, that he +forgot his usual reserve, and told us everything. Ah! I felt only pity +for the poor man; and I besought him to give the wretch the means to +escape. But he was inflexible. Seeing, however, how excited I was, he +tried to reassure me by telling me that Malgat would certainly not come, +that he would not dare to expect an answer to such a letter.” + +She pressed both her hands on her heart, as if to still its beating; and +then continued, in a weak voice,-- + +“Nevertheless, he came, and, seeing his hopes disappointed, he insisted +upon speaking to us. The servants let him go up, and he entered. Ah! +if I lived a thousand years, I should never forget that fearful scene. +Feeling that all was lost, this thief, this defaulter, had become +enraged; he demanded money. At first he asked for it on his knees in +humble words; but, when he found that this did not answer, he suddenly +rose in a perfect fury, his mouth foaming, his eyes bloodshot, and +overwhelmed us with the coarsest insults. At last M. Elgin’s patience +gave out, and he rang for the servants. They had to employ force to drag +him out; and, as they pushed him down stairs, he threatened us with his +fist, and swore that he would be avenged.” + +Miss Brandon shuddered till she appeared to be all in a quiver; and, for +a moment, Daniel thought she was going to be ill. But she made an effort +to overcome her weakness; and, in a more decided tone, she continued,-- + +“Forty-eight hours passed; and the impression of this horrible scene +began to fade from our minds, till it appeared like a bad dream. If we +mentioned Malgat at all, it was with pity and contempt; for what could +he do to us? Nothing, you will say. Even if he should dare to accuse +us of some great crime, we thought no one would listen to him, and we +should never hear of it. How could we imagine that the world would set +to work doubting our honor upon the mere word of a wretch like him? + +“His crime had, in the meantime, become known; and all the papers were +full of it, adding a number of more or less reliable stories. They +exaggerated the sums he had stolen; and they said he had succeeded in +escaping to England, and that the police had lost his traces in London. + +“I, poor girl, had nearly forgotten the whole matter. + +“He had really fled; but, before leaving Paris, he had succeeded in +preparing everything for the vengeance which he had threatened. Where +could he have found people mean enough to serve his purposes? and who +were they? I do not know. Perhaps he did nothing more, as Mrs. Brian +suggested, than to address two or three anonymous letters to some of our +acquaintances, who he knew did not like us, or envied us. + +“At all events, in less than a week after his disappearance, it was +reported everywhere, that I, Sarah Brandon, had been an accomplice of +this defaulter, and, worse than that, that the sums he had stolen might +easily be found, if a certain bureau in my bedchamber could be searched. + +“Yes, that is what they said, at first in a whisper and most cautiously, +then louder, and finally openly, and before all the world. + +“Soon the papers took it up. They repeated the facts, arranging them +to suit their purpose, and alluding to me in a thousand infamous +innuendoes. They said that Malgat’s defalcation was after the American +style, and that it was perfectly natural he should go to a foreign +country, after having been associated with a certain foreign lady.” + +She had become crimson all over; her bosom rose; and shame, indignation, +and resentment alternately appeared on her face, changing finally into +an ardent desire of vengeance. + +“We, in the meantime,” she continued, “quiet and safe in our honesty, +did not even suspect these infamous proceedings. It is true, I had +been struck by some strange whisperings, by curious looks and singular +smiles, when I passed some of my friends; but I had not noticed them +specially. + +“A paper which had been left at the house one afternoon, when we were +out, showed us the true state of things. It was a summons. I was ordered +to appear before a magistrate. + +“It was a thunderbolt. Mad with wrath and grief, M. Elgin swore I +should not go, that he would most assuredly find out the authors of this +infamous libel, and that, in the meantime, he would challenge and kill +every one who dared repeat it. + +“In vain did Mrs. Brian and myself beseech him, on our knees, not to +leave the house until he had grown cooler. He pushed us aside almost +with brutality, and rushed out, taking with him the papers and letters +written by Malgat. + +“We were at the end of our endurance, having suffered all the tortures +of anxiety, when, at last, near midnight, M. Elgin returned, pale, +exhausted, and distressed. He had found no one willing even to listen to +him; everybody telling him that he was much too good to give a thought +to such infamous reports; that they were too absurd to be believed.” + +She nearly gave way, sobs intercepting her words; but she mastered her +emotion, and continued,-- + +“The next day I went to the court-house; and, after being kept waiting +for a long time in a dark passage, I was brought before the magistrate. +He was an elderly man, with hard features and piercing eyes, who +received me almost brutally, as if I had been a criminal. But, when I +had shown him the letters which you have just read, his manner suddenly +changed, pity got the better of him; and I thought I saw a tear in his +eye. Ah! I shall be eternally grateful to him for the words he said when +I left his office,-- + +“‘Poor, poor young girl! Justice bows reverently before your innocence. +Would to God that the world could be made to do the same!’” + +She fixed her eyes, trembling with fear and hope, upon Daniel, and +added, in a voice of supplication and touching humility,-- + +“The world has been more cruel than justice itself but you, sir, will +you be harder than the magistrate?” + +Alas! Daniel was sorely embarrassed what to answer. He felt as if all +his senses were in an uproar and in utter confusion. + +“Sir!” begged Miss Brandon again. “M. Champcey!” + +She continued to fix her eyes upon him. He turned his head aside, +feeling as if, under her obstinate gaze, his mind left him, his energy +evaporated, and all the fibres of his strong will were breaking. + +“Great God!” exclaimed Miss Brandon, with grieved surprise; “he still +doubts me. Sir, I pray you, speak! Do you doubt the authenticity of +these letters? Ah, if you do, take them; for I do not hesitate to +confide them, the only proofs of my innocence, to your honor. Take them +and show them to the other clerks who have been sitting for twenty years +in the same office with Malgat; and they will tell you that it is his +handwriting; that he has signed his own condemnation. And, if that is +not enough for you, go to the magistrate who examined me; his name is +Patrigent.” + +And she waited, waited, but not a word came forth. + +Daniel had sunk, undone, into a chair; and his elbow resting on a small +stand, his brow in his hands, he endeavored to think, to reason. Then +Miss Brandon rose, came gently up to him, and taking his hand, said +softly,-- + +“I beseech you!” + +But as if suddenly electrified by the touch of this soft, warm hand, +Daniel rose so hastily, that he upset the chair; and, trembling with +mysterious terror, he cried out,-- + +“Kergrist!” + +It was as if a fearful insult had set Miss Brandon on fire. Her face +turned crimson, and then, almost instantly, livid; and, stepping back a +little, she darted at Daniel a look of burning hatred. + +“Oh!” she murmured, “oh!” finding, apparently, no words to express all +she felt. + +Was she going away? It looked as if she thought of it, for she walked +to the door; but, suddenly changing her mind, she came back to where she +had stood, facing Daniel. + +“This is the first time in my life,” she said, trembling with rage, +“that I condescend to justify myself against such infamous charges; and +you abuse my patience by heaping insult after insult upon me. But never +mind. I look upon you as upon Henrietta’s husband; and, since I have +commenced, I mean to finish.” + +Daniel tried to say a few words of apology; but she interrupted him,-- + +“Well, yes; one night a young man, Charles de Kergrist,--a profligate, +a gambler, crowning his scandalous life with the vilest and meanest +act,--did come and kill himself under my window. The next day a great +outcry arose against me. Three days later the brother of that wretched +madman, a M. Rene de Kergrist, came and held M. Elgin to account. But +do you know what came of these explanations? Charles de Kergrist, it +appears, killed himself after a supper, which he left in a state of +drunkenness. He committed suicide because he had lost his fortune at +Homburg and at Baden; because he had exhausted his last resources; +because his family, ashamed at his disgrace, refused to acknowledge +him any longer. And, if he chose my window for his self-murder, it was +because he wanted to satisfy a petty grievance. Looking upon me as an +heiress, whose fortune would enable him to continue his extravagant +life, he had courted me, and been refused by M. Elgin. Finally, at the +time when the catastrophe occurred, I was sixty miles away from here, in +Tours, staying at the house of one of M. Elgin’s friends, M. Palmer, who +deposed”-- + +And, as Daniel looked at her with an air of utter bewilderment, she +added,-- + +“Perhaps you will ask me for proofs of what I state. I have none to give +you. But I know a man who can give you what you want, and that man is M. +de Kergrist’s brother; for, after those explanations, he has continued +to be our friend, sir, one of our best friends. And he was here +to-night, and you have seen him; for he came and spoke to me while you +were standing by me. M. de Kergrist lives here in Paris; and M. Elgin +will give you his address.” + +She looked at Daniel with a glance in which pity and contempt were +strangely mixed, and then added, in her proudest tone,-- + +“And now, sir, since _I_ have deigned to stand here like a criminal, do +you sit in judgment on me. Question me, and I will answer. What else are +you going to charge me with?” + +A judge, however, ought to be calm; and Daniel was but too conscious of +his deep excitement; he knew he could not even prevent his features from +expressing his utter bewilderment. He gave up all discussion therefore, +and simply said,-- + +“I believe you, Miss Brandon, I believe you.” + +Miss Brandon’s beautiful eyes lighted up for a moment with joy; and in a +tone of voice which sounded like the echo of her heart, she said,-- + +“Oh, thank you, sir! now I am sure you will grant me Miss Henrietta’s +friendship.” + +Why did she mention that name? It broke the charm which had overcome +Daniel. He saw how weak he had been, and was ashamed of himself. + +He said sternly, thus proving his anger at himself, and the failure of +his judgment,-- + +“Permit me not to reply to that to-night. I should like to consider.” + +She looked at him half stupefied. + +“What do you mean?” she said. “Have I, or have I not, removed your +doubts, your insulting suspicions? Perhaps you wish to consult one of my +enemies?” + +She spoke in a tone of such profound disdain, that Daniel, stung to +the quick, forgot the discretion which he had intended to observe, and +said,-- + +“Since you insist upon it, Miss Brandon, I must confess that there is +one doubt which you have not removed.” + +“Which?” + +Daniel hesitated, regretting the words he had allowed to escape him. But +he had gone too far now to retract. He replied,-- + +“I do not understand, Miss Brandon, how you can marry Count Ville- +Handry.” + +“Why not?” + +“You are young. You are immensely rich, you say. The count is sixty-six +years old.” + +She, who had been so daring that nothing seemed to be able to disconcert +her, now lowered her head like a timid boarding-school girl who has been +caught acting contrary to rules; and a flood of crimson spread over her +face, and every part of her figure which was not concealed by her dress. + +“You are cruel, sir!” she stammered; “the secret into which you pry is +one of those which a girl hardly dares to confide to her mother.” + +He was triumphant, thinking he had caught her at last. + +“Ah, indeed!” he said ironically. + +But the proud young lady did not waver, and replied with bitter +sadness,-- + +“You will have it so; be it so. For your sake, I will lay aside that +veil of proud reserve which conceals the mysteries of a young girl’s +heart. I do not love Count Ville-Handry.” + +Daniel was startled. This confession seemed to him the height of +imprudence. + +“I do not love him,--at least not with real love; and I have never +allowed him to hope for such a feeling. Still I shall be most happy to +become his wife. Do not expect me to explain to you what is going on +within me. I myself hardly understand it as yet. I can give no precise +name to that feeling of sympathy which attracts me towards him. I +have been captivated by his wit and his kindness; his words have an +indescribable charm for me. That is all I can tell you.” + +Daniel could not believe his ears. + +“And,” she continued, “if you must have motives of more ordinary +character, I will confess to you that I can no longer endure this life, +harassed as I am by vile calumnies. The palace of Count Ville-Handry +appears to me an asylum, where I shall bury my disappointments and my +sorrows, and where I shall find peace and a position which commands +respect. Ah! you need not be afraid for that great and noble name. +I shall bear it worthily and nobly, and shrink from no sacrifice to +enhance its splendor. You may say that I am a calculating woman. I dare +say _I_ am; but I see nothing mean or disgraceful in my hopes.” + +Daniel had thought he had confounded her, and it was she who crushed +him by her bold frankness; for there was nothing to say, no reasonable +objection to make. Fifty marriages out of every hundred are made upon +less high ground. Miss Brandon, however, was not a woman to be easily +overcome. She rose as she spoke, to her former haughtiness, and inspired +herself with the sound of her voice. + +“During the last two years,” she said, “I have had twenty offers; and +among them three or four that would have been acceptable to a duchess. I +have refused them, in spite of M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. Only yesterday, +a man of twenty-five, a Gordon Chalusse, was here at my feet. I have +sent him off like the others, preferring my dear count. And why?” + +She remained a moment buried in thought, her eyes swimming in tears; +and, answering apparently her own questions, rather than Daniel’s, she +went on,-- + +“Thanks to my beauty, as the world calls it, a fatal beauty, alas! I +have been admired, courted, filled to satiety with compliments. They say +I am in the most elegant and most polished society in Europe; and yet I +have looked in vain for the man whose eye could for a moment even break +the peace of my heart. I have seen everywhere only persons of like +perfection, whose characters had no more wrinkles than the coat made +by the first of tailors, all equally eager and gallant, playing well, +talking well, dancing well, riding well.” + +She shook her head with a movement full of energy; and, beaming with +enthusiasm, she exclaimed,-- + +“Ah! I had dreamed of better things to come. What I dreamed of was a +man of noble heart, with an inflexible will, capable of attempting what +others dared not,--what, I do not know, but something grand, perilous, +impossible. I dreamed of one of those ambitious men with a pale brow, a +longing look, whose eyes sparkle with genius,--one of those strong men +who impose their will upon the multitude, and who remove mountains by +the force of their will. + +“Alas! to repay the love of such a man, I would have found treasures in +my heart, which now remain useless, like all the wealth that is buried +at the bottom of the sea. I would have drunk deep from the cup of my +hopes; my pulse would have kept time with the fever of his excitement. +For his sake, I would have made myself small, humble, useful; I would +have watched in his looks for the shadow of a desire. + +“But how proud I would have been, I, his wife, of his success and of his +glories, of the reverence paid him by his admirers, and the hatred of +his enemies!” + +Her voice had vibrations in it that might have stirred up the heart of a +stoic. The splendor of her exalted beauty illumined the room. + +And gradually, one by one, Daniel’s suspicions vanished, or fell to +pieces like the ill-jointed pieces of an ancient armor. But Miss Brandon +paused, ashamed of her vehemence, and continued more slowly,-- + +“Now, sir, you know me better than any other person in this world. You +alone have read the innermost heart of Sarah Brandon. And yet I see you +today for the first time in my life. And yet you are the first man who +has ever dared to speak harshly to me, harsh unto insult. Will you make +me repent of my frankness? Oh, no, no! surely you will not be so cruel. +I know you to be a man of honor and of high principles; I know how, in +order to save a name which you revere, you have risked your prospects in +life, the girl you love, and an enormous fortune. Yes, Miss Ville-Handry +has made no ordinary choice.” + +She looked as if she were utterly despondent, and added, in a tone of +concentrated rage,-- + +“And I, I know my fate.” + +Then followed a pause, a terrible pause. They were standing face to +face, pale, troubled, trembling with excitement, their teeth firmly set, +their eyes eloquent with deep feeling. + +Daniel, as he felt the hot breath of this terrible passion, became +almost unconscious of the surroundings; his mind was shaken; a +mysterious delirium took possession of his senses; the blood rushed to +his head; and he felt as if the beating at his temples was ringing in +the whole house. + +“Yes,” began at last Miss Brandon once more, “my fate is sealed. I must +become the Countess of Ville-Handry, or I am lost. And once more, sir, +I beseech you induce Miss Henrietta to receive me like an elder sister. +Ah! if I were the woman you think I am, what would I care for Miss +Henrietta and her enmity? You know very well that the count will go +on at any hazard. And yet I beg,--I who am accustomed to command +everywhere. What more can I do? Do you want to see me at your feet? Here +I am.” + +And really, as she said this, she sank down so suddenly, that her knees +struck the floor with a noise; and, seizing Daniel’s hands, she pressed +them upon her burning brow. + +“Great God!” she sighed, “to be rejected, by him!” + +Her hair had become partially loosened, and fell in masses on Daniel’s +hands. He trembled from head to foot; and, bending over Miss Brandon, +he raised her, and held her, half lifeless, while her head rested on his +shoulder. + +“Miss Sarah,” he said in a hoarse, low voice. + +They were so near to each other, that their breaths mingled, and Daniel +felt Miss Brandon’s sobs on his heart, burning him like fiery flames. +Then, half drunk with excitement, forgetting every thing, he pressed his +lips upon the lips of this strange girl. + +But she, starting up instantly, drew back, and cried,-- + +“Daniel! unhappy man!” + +Then breaking out in sobs, she stammered,-- + +“Go! I pray you go! I ask for nothing now. If I must be lost, I must.” + +And he replied with terrible vehemence,-- + +“Your will shall be done, Sarah; I am yours. You may count upon me.” + +And he rushed out like a madman, down the staircase, taking three steps +at once, and, finding the house-door open, out into the street. + + + + +X. + +It was a dark, freezing night; the sky was laden with clouds which hung +so low, that they nearly touched the roofs of the houses; and a furious +wind was shaking the black branches of the trees in the Champs Elysees, +passing through the air like a fine dust of snow. + +Daniel rushed in feverish haste, like an escaped convict, headlong on, +without aim or purpose, solely bent upon escaping. But, when he had gone +some distance, the motion, the cold night-air, and the keen wind playing +in his hair, restored him to consciousness. Then he became aware that he +was still in evening costume, bareheaded, and that he had left his hat +and his overcoat in Miss Brandon’s house. Then he remembered that Count +Ville-Handry was waiting for him in the great reception-room, together +with M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. What would they say and think? Unhappy +man, in what a sad predicament he found himself! + +There might have been a way to escape from that hell; and he himself, in +his madness, had closed it forever. + +Like one of those dissipated men who awake from the heavy sleep after a +debauch, with dry mouth and weary head, he felt as if he had just been +aroused from a singular and terrible dream. Like the drunkard, who, when +he is sobered, tries to recall the foolish things he may have done under +the guidance of King Alcohol, Daniel conjured up one by one all his +emotions during the hour which he had just spent by Miss Brandon’s +side,--an hour of madness which would weigh heavily upon his future +fate, and which alone contained in its sixty minutes more experiences +than his whole life so far. + +At no time had he been so near despair. + +What! He had been warned, put on his guard, made fully aware of all of +Miss Brandon’s tricks; they had told him of the weird charm of her eyes; +he himself had caught her that very evening in the open act of deceiving +others. + +And in spite of all this, feeble and helpless as he was, he had let +himself be caught by the fascinations of this strange girl. Her voice +had made him forget every thing, every thing--even his dear and beloved +Henrietta, his sole thought for so many years. + +“Fool!” he said to himself, “what have I done?” + +Unmindful of the blast of the tempest, and of the snow which had begun +to fall, he had sat down on the steps of one of the grandest houses in +Circus Street, and, with his elbows on his knees, he pressed his brow +with his hands, as if hoping that he might thus cause it to suggest to +him some plan of salvation. Conjuring up the whole energy of his will, +he tried to retrace his interview with Miss Brandon in order to find out +by what marvellous transformation it had begun as a terrible combat, and +ended as a love-scene. And recalling thus to his memory all she had told +him in her soft, sweet voice, he asked himself if she had not really +been slandered; and, if there was actually something amiss in her +past life, why should it not rather be laid at the door of those two +equivocal personages who watched over her, M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. + +What boldness this strange girl had displayed in her defence! but also +what lofty nobility! How well she had said that she did not love Count +Ville-Handry with real love, and that, until now, no man had even +succeeded in quickening her pulse! Was she of marble, and susceptible +only of delight in foolish vanity? + +Oh, no! a thousand times no! The most refined coquetry never achieved +that passionate violence; the most accomplished artist never possessed +that marvellous contagion which is the sublime gift of truth alone. And, +whatever he could do, his head and heart remained still filled with Miss +Brandon; and Daniel trembled as he remembered certain words in which, +under almost transparent illusions, the secret of her heart had betrayed +itself. Could she have told Daniel more pointedly than she had actually +done, “He whom I could love is none other but you”? Certainly not! +And as he thought of it his heart was filled with a sense of eager and +unwholesome desires; for he was a man, no better, no worse, than other +men; and there are but too many men nowadays, who would value a few +hours of happiness with a woman like Miss Brandon more highly than a +whole life of chaste love by the side of a pure and noble woman. + +“But what is that to me?” he repeated. “Can I love her, I?” + +Then he began again to revolve in his mind what might have happened +after his flight from the house. + +How had Miss Brandon explained his escape? How had she accounted for her +own excitement? + +And, drawn by an invincible power, Daniel had risen to return to the +house; and there, half-hid under the shadow of the opposite side, in a +deep doorway, he watched anxiously the windows, as if they could have +told him any thing of what was going on inside. The reception-room +was still brilliantly lighted, and people came and went, casting their +shadows upon the white curtains. A man came and leaned his face against +the window, then suddenly he drew back; and Daniel distinctly recognized +Count Ville-Handry. + +What did that mean? Did it not imply that Miss Brandon had been taken +suddenly ill, and that people were anxious about her? These were +Daniel’s thoughts when he heard the noise of bolts withdrawn, and doors +opened. It was the great entrance-gate of Miss Brandon’s house, which +was thrown open by some of the servants. A low _coupe_ with a single +horse left the house, and drove rapidly towards the Champs Elysees. + +But, at the moment when the _coupe_ turned, the light of the lamp fell +full upon the inside, and Daniel thought he recognized, nay, he did +recognize, Miss Brandon. He felt as if he had received a stunning blow +on the head. + +“She has deceived me!” he exclaimed, grinding his teeth in his rage; +“she has treated me like an imbecile, like an idiot!” + +Then, suddenly conceiving a strange plan, he added,-- + +“I must know where she is going at four o’clock in the morning. I will +follow her.” + +Unfortunately, Miss Brandon’s coachman had, no doubt, received special +orders; for he drove down the avenue as fast as the horse could go, +and the animal was a famous trotter, carefully chosen by Sir Thorn, who +understood horse-flesh better than any one else in Paris. But Daniel +was agile; and the hope of being able to avenge himself at once gave him +unheard-of strength. + +“If I could only catch a cab!” he thought. + +But no carriage was to be seen. His elbows close to the body, managing +his breath, and steadily measuring his steps, he succeeded in not only +following the _coupe_, but in actually gaining ground. When Miss Brandon +reached Concord Square, he was only a few yards behind the carriage. But +there the coachman touched the horse, which suddenly increased its pace, +crossed the square, and trotted down Royal Street. + +Daniel felt his breath giving out, and a shooting pain, first trifling, +but gradually increasing, in his side. He was on the point of giving +up the pursuit, when he saw a cab coming down towards him from the +Madeleine, the driver fast asleep on the box. He threw himself before +the horses, and cried out as well as he could,-- + +“Driver, a hundred francs for you, if you follow that _coupe_ down +there!” + +But the driver, suddenly aroused by a man who stood in the middle of the +street, bareheaded, and in evening costume, and who offered him such +an enormous sum, thought it was a practical joke attempted by a drunken +man, and replied furiously,-- + +“Look out, rascal! Get out of the way, or I drive over you!” + +And therewith he whipped his horses; and Daniel would have been driven +over, if he had not promptly jumped aside. But all this had taken +time; and, when he looked up, the _coupe_ was far off, nearly at the +boulevard. To attempt overtaking it now would have been folly indeed; +and Daniel remained there, overwhelmed and defeated. + +What could he do? It occurred to him that he might hasten to Maxime, and +ask him for advice. But fate was against him; he gave up that idea. He +went slowly back to his lodgings, and threw himself into an arm-chair, +determined not to go to bed till he had found a way to extricate himself +from the effects of his egregious folly. + +But he had now been for two days agitated by the extremest alternatives, +like a man out at sea, whom the waves buffet, and throw--now up to the +shore, and now back again into open water. He had not closed an eye for +forty-eight hours; and, if the heart seems to be able to suffer almost +indefinitely, our physical strength is strictly limited. Thus he fell +asleep, dreaming even in his sleep that he was hard at work, and just +about to discover the means by which he could penetrate the mystery of +Miss Brandon. + +It was bright day when Daniel awoke, chilled and stiffened; for he had +not changed his clothes when he came home, and his fire had gone out. +His first impulse was one of wrath against himself. What! he succumbed +so easily?--he, the sailor, who remembered very well having remained +more than once for forty, and even once for sixty hours on deck, +when his vessel was threatened by a hurricane? Had his peaceful and +monotonous life in his office during the last two years weakened him to +such a point, that all the springs of his system had lost their power? + +Poor fellow! he knew not that the direst fatigue _is_ trifling in +comparison with that deep moral excitement which shakes the human system +to its most mysterious depths. Nevertheless, while he hastened to kindle +a large fire, in order to warm himself, he felt that the rest had done +him good. The last evil effects of his excitement last night had passed +away; the charm by which he had been fascinated was broken; and he felt +once more master of all his faculties. + +Now his folly appeared to him so utterly inexplicable, that, if he had +but tasted a glass of lemonade at Miss Brandon’s house, he should have +been inclined to believe that they had given him one of those drugs +which set the brains on fire, and produce a kind of delirium. But he had +taken nothing, and, even if he had, was the foolish act less real for +that? The consequences would be fatal, he had no doubt. + +He was thus busy trying to analyze the future, when his servant entered, +as he did every morning, bringing his hat and overcoat on his arm. + +“Sir,” he said, with a smile which he tried to render malicious, “you +have forgotten these things at the house where you spent the evening +yesterday. A servant--on horseback too--brought them. He handed me at +the same time this letter, and is waiting for an answer.” + +Daniel took the letter, and for a minute or more examined the direction. +The handwriting was a woman’s, small and delicate, but in no ways +like the long, angular hand of an American lady. At last he tore the +envelope; and at once a penetrating but delicate perfume arose, which he +had inhaled, he knew but too well, in Miss Brandon’s rooms. + +The letter was indeed from her, and on the top of the page bore her +name, Sarah, in small blue Gothic letters. She wrote,-- + + +“Is it really so, O Daniel! that you are entirely mine, and that I +can count upon you? You told me so tonight. Do you still remember your +promises?” + + +Daniel was petrified. Miss Brandon had told him that she was imprudence +personified; and here she gave him a positive proof of it. + +Could not these few lines become a terrible weapon against her? Did they +not admit the most extraordinary interpretation? Still, as the bearer +might be impatient, the servant asked,-- + +“What must I tell the man?” + +“Ah, wait!” answered Daniel angrily. + +And, sitting down at his bureau, he wrote to Miss Brandon,-- + + +“Certainly, Miss Brandon, I remember the promises you extorted from me +when I was not master of myself; I remember them but too well.” + + +Suddenly an idea struck him; and he paused. What! Having been caught +already in the very first trap she had prepared for his inexperience, +was he to risk falling into a second? He tore the letter he had +commenced into small pieces, and, turning to his servant, said,-- + +“Tell the man that I am out; and make haste and get me a carriage!” + +Then, when he was once more alone, he murmured,-- + +“Yes, it is better so. It is much better to leave Miss Brandon in +uncertainty. She cannot even suspect that her driving out this morning +has enlightened me. She thinks I am still in the dark; let her believe +it.” + +Still this letter of hers seemed to prepare some new intrigue, which +troubled Daniel excessively. Miss Brandon was certain of achieving her +end; what more did she want? What other mysterious aim could she have in +view? + +“Ah! I cannot make it out,” sighed Daniel. “I must consult Brevan.” + +On his writing-table he found that important and urgent work which the +minister had intrusted to his hands still unfinished. But the minister, +the department, his position, his preferment,--all these considerations +weighed as nothing in comparison with his passion. + +He went down, therefore; and, while his carriage drove to his friend’s +house, he thought of the surprise he would cause Maxime. + +When he arrived there, he found M. de Brevan standing in his shirt- +sleeves before an immense marble table, covered all over with pots and +bottles, with brushes, combs, and sponges, with pincers, polishers, and +files, making his toilet. + +If he expected Daniel, he had not expected him so soon; for his features +assumed an expression which seemed to prohibit all confidential talk. +But Daniel saw nothing. He shook hands with his friend, and, sinking +heavily into a chair, he said,-- + +“I went to Miss Brandon. She has made me promise all she wanted. I +cannot imagine how it came about!” + +“Let us hear,” said M. de Brevan. + +Then, without hesitation, and with all the minutest details, Daniel told +him how Miss Brandon had taken him into her little boudoir, and how she +had exculpated herself from all complicity with Malgat by showing him +the letters written by that wretched man. + +“Strange letters!” he said, “which, if they are authentic”-- + +M. de Brevan shrugged his shoulders. + +“You were forewarned,” he said, “and you have promised all she wanted! +Do you not think she might have made you sign your own death-sentence?” + +“But Kergrist?” said Daniel. “Kergrist’s brother is her friend.” + +“I dare say. But do you imagine that brother is any cleverer than you +are?” + +Although he was by no means fully satisfied, Daniel went on, describing +his amazement when Miss Brandon told him that she did not love Count +Ville-Handry. + +But Maxime burst out laughing, and interrupted him, saying with bitter +irony,-- + +“Of course! And then she went on, telling you that she had never yet +loved anybody, having vainly looked in the world for the man of whom she +dreamed. She painted to you the phoenix in such colors, that you had to +say to yourself, ‘What does she mean? That phoenix! Why, she means me!’ +That has tickled you prodigiously. She has thrown herself at your +feet; you have raised her up; she has fainted; she has sobbed like a +distressed dove in your arms; you have lost your head.” + +Daniel was overcome. He stammered,-- + +“How did you know?” + +Maxime could not look him in the face; but his voice was as steady as +ever when he replied, in a tone of bitterest sarcasm,-- + +“I guess it. Did I not tell you I knew Miss Brandon? She has only one +card in her hand; but that is enough; it always makes a trick.” + +To have been deceived, and even to have been rendered ridiculous, is one +of those misfortunes which we confess to ourselves, however painful +the process may be; but to hear another person laugh at us after such a +thing has happened is more than we can readily bear. Daniel, therefore, +did not conceal his impatience, and said rather dryly,-- + +“If I have been the dupe of Miss Brandon, my dear Maxime, you see, at +last, that I am so no longer.” + +“Ah, ah!” + +“No, not in the least. And that, thanks to her; for she herself has +destroyed my illusions.” + +“Pshaw!” + +“Unconsciously, of course, having ran away from her like a fool, I was +wandering about in the streets near her house, when I saw her come out +in her _coupe_.” + +“Oh, come!” + +“I saw her as distinctly as I see you. It was four o’clock in the +morning, mind!” + +“Is it possible? And what did you do?” + +“I followed her.” + +M. de Brevan nearly let the brush fall, with which he was polishing his +finger-nails; but he mastered his confusion so promptly, that Daniel did +not perceive it. + +“Ah! you followed her,” he said in a voice which all his efforts could +not steady entirely. “Then, of course, you know where she went.” + +“Alas, no! She drove so fast, that, quick as I am, I could not follow +her, and lost sight of her.” + +Certainly M. de Brevan was breathing more freely, and said in an easy +tone,-- + +“That is provoking, and you have lost a fine opportunity. I am, however, +by no means astonished that you are at last enlightened.” + +“Oh! I am so; you may believe me. And yet”-- + +“Well, yet?” + +Daniel hesitated, for fear of seeing another sardonic smile appear on +Maxime’s lips. Still making an effort, he replied,-- + +“Well, I am asking myself whether all that Miss Brandon states about her +childhood, her family, and her fortune, might not, after all, be true.” + +Maxime looked like a sensible man who is forced to listen to the absurd +nonsense of an insane person. + +“You think I am absurd,” said Daniel. “Perhaps I am; but, then, do me +the favor to explain to me how Miss Brandon, anxious as she must be to +conceal her past, could herself point out to me the means to ascertain +every thing about her, and even to learn the precise amount of her +income? America is not so far off!” + +M. de Brevan’s face no longer expressed astonishment; he looked +absolutely bewildered. + +“What!” he cried out, “could you seriously think of undertaking a trip +to America?” + +“Why not?” + +“To be sure, my dear friend, you are, in all sincerity, too naive for +our age. What! have you not yet been able to divine Miss Brandon’s +plan? And yet it is patent enough. When she saw you, and had taken your +measure, she said to herself, ‘Here is an excellent young man who is in +my way, excessively in my way; he must go and breathe a better air a few +thousand miles off.’ And thereupon she suggested to you that pleasant +trip to America.” + +After what Daniel had learned about Miss Brandon’s character, this +explanation sounded by no means improbable. Nevertheless, he was not +quite satisfied. He objected to it thus:-- + +“Whether I go or stay, the wedding will still take place. Consequently, +she has no interest in my being abroad. Believe me, Maxime, there is +something else underneath. Outside of this marriage, Miss Brandon must +be pursuing some other plan.” + +“What plan?” + +“Ah! That is what I cannot find out, to save my life. But you may be +sure that I am not mistaken. I want no better evidence of it than the +fact that she wrote to me this morning.” + +M. de Brevan jumped up, and said,-- + +“What! She has written to you?” + +“Yes; it is that accursed letter, more than any thing else, that brings +me here. Here it is, just read it; and, if you can understand it, you +are more fortunate than I am.” + +At one glance M. de Brevan had read the five lines which Miss Brandon +had written; and, turning deadly pale, he said,-- + +“This is incomprehensible. A note, and such an indiscreet note, from her +who never writes!” + +He looked upon Daniel as if he wished to penetrate his innermost +thoughts, and then asked him, weighing his words with the utmost care,-- + +“If she should really love you, what would you say?” + +Daniel looked disgusted. He replied,--“It is hardly generous in you to +make sport of me, Maxime. I may be a fool; but I am not an idiot, to be +conceited to that degree.” + +“That is no answer to my question,” said Brevan; “and I repeat my +question. What would you say?” + +“I would say that I execrate her!” + +“Oh! if you hate her so bitterly, you are very near loving her.” + +“I despise her; and without esteem”-- + +“That is an old story. That is no impediment.” + +“Finally, you know how dearly, how ardently, I love Miss Ville-Handry.” + +“Of course; but that is not the same thing.” + +M. de Brevan had at last finished his careful toilet. He put on a +dressing-gown; and, carrying Daniel with him into the small room which +he used as a dressing-room, he asked,-- + +“And what have you said in reply to that note?” + +“Nothing.” + +M. de Brevan had thrown himself into a comfortable chair, and assumed +the careful air of a physician who has been consulted. He nodded, and +said,-- + +“You have done well, and for the future I advise you to pursue the same +plan. Don’t say a word. Can you do any thing to prevent Miss Brandon +from carrying out her purposes? No! Let her go on, then.” + +“But”-- + +“Let me finish. It is not only your own interest to act thus, but also +Miss Henrietta’s interest. The day on which they part you, you will be +inconsolable; but you will also be free to act. She, on the other hand, +will be forced to live under the same roof with Miss Brandon; and you do +not know what a stepmother can do to torture the child of her husband!” + +Daniel trembled. He had already thought of that; and the idea had made +him shudder. Brevan continued,-- + +“For the present, the most important thing is to find out how your +flight has been explained. We may be able to draw our conclusions from +what has been said on the subject.” + +“I’ll go at once and try to find out,” said Daniel. + +And, after having affectionately shaken hands with Maxime, he hurried +down to his carriage and drove as fast as he could to Count Ville- +Handry’s palace. The count was at home and alone, walking up and down +in the most excited manner. And certainly he had enough to excite and +preoccupy him just now. It was nearly noon; and he had not yet been in +the hands of his valet. When he saw Daniel, he paused for a moment, and, +crossing his arms on his breast, he said, in a terrible tone,-- + +“Ah! here you are, M. Champcey. Well, you are doing nice things!” + +“I, count? How so?” + +“How so? Who else has overwhelmed poor Miss Sarah with insults at the +very time when she was trying to explain every thing to you? Who +else, ashamed of his scandalous conduct, has run away, never daring to +reappear at her house?” + +What had the count been told? Certainly not the truth. He went on,-- + +“And do you know, M. Champcey, what has been the effect of your +brutality? Miss Brandon has been seized with such a terrible nervous +attack, that they had to send the carriage for a doctor. You unlucky +man, you might have killed her! They would, of course, never have +allowed me to enter her own room; but from the reception-room I could at +times hear her painful cries and sobs. It was only after eight o’clock +this morning that she could get any rest; and then Mrs. Brian, taking +pity on _my_ great grief, granted me the favor to see her, sleeping like +an infant.” + +Daniel listened, stupefied by amazement, utterly confounded by the +impudence of Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian, and hardly able to understand the +count’s astonishing credulity. He thought to himself,-- + +“This is abominable! Here I am an accomplice of this Miss Brandon. Must +I actually aid her in obtaining possession of this unlucky man?” + +But what could he do? Should he speak? Should he tell Count Ville- +Handry, that if he really heard cries of pain, and sobs, they were +certainly not uttered by Miss Brandon? Should he tell him, that, while +he was dying with anxiety, his beloved was driving about Paris, Heaven +knows where and with whom. + +The thought of doing so occurred to Daniel. But what would have been the +good of it? Would the count believe him? Most probably not. And thus +he would only add new difficulties to his position, which was already +complicated enough. Finally, he saw very, clearly that he would never +dare tell the whole truth, or show that letter which he had in his +pocket. Still he tried to excuse himself, and began,-- + +“I am too much of a gentleman to insult a woman.” + +The count interrupted him rudely, saying,-- + +“Spare me, I pray, a rigmarole which cannot affect me. Besides, I do not +blame you particularly. I know the heart of man too well not to be sure, +that, in acting thus, you have followed much less the inspirations of +your own heart than the suggestions made by my daughter.” + +It might have been very dangerous for Henrietta to allow the count to +cherish such thoughts. Daniel, therefore, tried once more to explain. + +“I assure you, count”-- + +But the count interrupted him fiercely, stamping with his foot. + +“No more! I mean to make an end to this absurd opposition, and to break +it forever. Do they not know that I am master in my own house? and do +they propose to treat me like a servant, and to laugh at me, into the +bargain? I shall make you aware who is master.” + +He checked himself for an instant, and then continued,-- + +“Ah, M. Champcey! I did not expect that from you. Poor Sarah! To think +that I could not spare her such a humiliation! But it is the last; and +this very morning, as soon as she wakes, she shall know that all is +ended. I have just sent for my daughter to tell her that the day for +the wedding is fixed. All the formalities are fulfilled. We have the +necessary papers”-- + +He paused, for Henrietta came in. + +“You wish to speak to me, papa?” she said as she entered the room. + +“Yes.” + +Greeting Daniel with a sweet glance of her eyes, Henrietta walked up to +the count, and offered him her forehead to kiss; but he pushed her back +rudely, and said, assuming an air of supreme solemnity,-- + +“I have sent for you, my daughter, to inform you that to-morrow +fortnight I shall marry Miss Brandon.” + +Henrietta must have been prepared for something of the kind, for she +did not move. She turned slightly pale; and a ray of wrath shot from her +eyes. The count went on,-- + +“Under these circumstances, it is not proper, it is hardly decent, that +you should not know her who is to be your mother hereafter. I shall +therefore present you to her this very day, in the afternoon.” + +The young girl shook her head gently, and then she said,-- + +“No!” + +Count Ville-Handry had become very red. He exclaimed,-- + +“What! You dare! What would you say if I threatened to carry you +forcibly to Miss Brandon’s house?” + +“I, should say, father, that that is the only way to make me go there.” + +Her attitude was firm, though not defiant. She spoke in a calm, gentle +voice, but betrayed in every thing a resolution firmly formed, and not +to be shaken by any thing. The count seemed to be perfectly amazed at +this audacity shown by a girl who was usually so timid. He said,-- + +“Then you detest, you envy, this Miss Brandon?” + +“I, father? Why should I? Great God! I only know that she cannot become +the Countess Ville-Handry,--she who has filled all Paris with evil +reports.” + +“Who has told you so? No doubt, M. Champcey.” + +“Everybody has told me, father.” + +“So, because she has been slandered, the poor girl”-- + +“I am willing to think she is innocent; but the Countess Ville-Handry +must not be a slandered woman.” + +She raised herself to her full height, and added in a higher voice,-- + +“You are master here, father; you can do as you choose. But I--I owe it +to myself and to the sacred memory of my mother, to protest by all the +means in my power; and I shall protest.” + +The count stammered and stared. The blood rose to his head. He cried +out,-- + +“At last I know you, Henrietta, and I understand you. _I_ was not +mistaken. It was you who sent M. Daniel Champcey to Miss Brandon, to +insult her at her own house.” + +“Sir!” interrupted M. Daniel in a threatening tone. + +But the count could not be restrained; and, with his eyes almost +starting from their sockets, he continued,-- + +“Yes, I read your innermost heart, Henrietta. You are afraid of losing a +part of your inheritance.” + +Stung by this insult, Henrietta had stepped up close to her father,-- + +“But don’t you see, father, that it is this woman who wants your +fortune, and that she does not like us, and cannot like us?” + +“Why, if you please?” + +Once before, Count Ville-Handry had asked this question of his daughter +in almost the same words. Then she had not dared answer him; but now, +carried away by her bitterness at being insulted by a woman whom she +despised, she forgot every thing. She seized her father’s hand, and, +carrying him to a mirror, she said in a hoarse voice,-- + +“‘Why?’--you ask. Well, look there! look at yourself!” + +If Count Ville-Handry had trusted nature, he would have looked like a +man of barely sixty, still quite robust and active. But he had allowed +art to spoil every thing. And this morning, with his few hairs, half +white, half dyed, with the rouge and the white paint of yesterday +cracked, and fallen away in places, he looked as if he had lived a few +thousand years. + +Did he see himself as he really was,--hideous? + +He certainly became livid; and coldly, for his excessive rage gave him +the appearance of composure, he said,-- + +“You are a wretch, Henrietta!” + +And as she broke out in sobs, terrified by his words, he said,-- + +“Oh, don’t play comedy! Presently, at four o’clock precisely, I shall +call for you. If I find you dressed, and ready to accompany me to Miss +Brandon’s house, all right. If not M. Champcey has been here for the +last time in his life; and you will never--do you hear?--never be his +wife. Now I leave you alone; you can reflect!” + +And he went out, closing the door so violently, that the whole house +seemed to shake. + +“All is over!” + +Both Henrietta and Daniel were crushed by this certain conviction. + +The crisis could no longer be postponed. A few hours more, and the +mischief would be done. Daniel was the first to shake off the stupor of +despair; and, taking Henrietta’s hand, he asked her,-- + +“You have heard what your father said. What will you do?” + +“What I said I would do, whatever it may cost me.” + +“But could you yield?” + +“Yield?” exclaimed the young girl. + +And, looking at Daniel with grieved surprise, she added,-- + +“Would you really dare give me that advice,--you who had only to look at +Miss Brandon to lose your self-control so far as to overwhelm her with +insults?” + +“Henrietta, I swear”-- + +“And this to such an extent, that father accused you of having done so +at my bidding. Ah, you have been very imprudent, Daniel!” + +The unhappy man wrung his hands with despair. What punishment he had +to endure for a moment’s forgetfulness! He felt as if he had rendered +himself guilty already by not revealing the mean conduct of M. Elgin and +Mrs. Brian while Miss Brandon was driving about Paris. And now, at this +very hour, he was put into a still more difficult position, because he +could not even give a glimpse of the true state of things. + +He said nothing; and Henrietta gloried in his silence. + +“You see,” she said, “that if your heart condemns me, your reason and +your conscience approve of my decision.” + +He made no reply, but, rising suddenly, he began to walk up and down in +the room like a wild beast searching for some outlet from the cage in +which it has been imprisoned. He felt he was caught, hemmed in on all +sides, and he could do nothing, nothing at all. + +“Ah, we must surrender!” he exclaimed at last, overcome with grief; “we +must do it; we are almost helpless. Let us give up the struggle; reason +demands it. We have done enough; we have done our duty.” + +All trembling with passion, he spoke on for some time, bringing up the +most conclusive arguments, one by one; while his love lent him all its +persuasive power. And at last it looked as if Henrietta’s determination +were giving way, and she began to hesitate. It was so; but she was +still struggling against her own emotion, and said in a half-suppressed +tone,-- + +“No doubt, Daniel, you think I am not yet wretched enough.” + +And then, fixing upon him a long, anxious glance, she added,-- + +“Say no more, or I shall begin to fear that you are dreading the time +which has still to elapse till we can be united, and that you doubt +me--or yourself.” + +He blushed, finding himself thus half detected; but, given up entirely +to sinister presentiments, he insisted,-- + +“No, I do not doubt; but I cannot reconcile myself to the idea that you +are going to live under the same roof with Miss Brandon, M. Elgin, and +Mrs. Brian. Since this abominable adventuress must triumph, let us flee. +I have in Anjou an old respectable kinswoman, who will be very proud to +offer you her hospitality.” + +Henrietta stopped him by a gesture. Then she said,-- + +“In other words, I who risk my happiness in order to avoid a blot upon +the name of Ville-Handry, I should tarnish it in an almost ineffaceable +manner. That cannot be.” + +“Henrietta!” + +“No more. I stand upon a post of honor which I shall not abandon. The +more formidable Miss Brandon is, the more it becomes my duty to remain +here in order to watch over my father.” + +Daniel trembled. + +He remembered suddenly what M. de Brevan had told him of the means +employed by Miss Brandon for the purpose of getting rid of troublesome +people. Did Henrietta’s instincts make her anticipate a crime? No, not +such a crime, at least. + +“You will understand my decision all the better,” she continued, “if I +tell you what a strange discovery I have made. This morning a gentleman +called here, who said he was a business-man, and had an appointment with +Count Ville-Handry which was of the utmost importance. + +“The servants had told him that their master was out. He became angry, +and began to talk so loud, that I came to see what was the matter. When +he saw me, and found out who I was, he at once became very quiet, and +begged me to take charge of a rough copy of a legal paper, which he had +been directed to prepare secretly, and which he desired me to hand to my +father. + +“I promised to do so; but, as I was carrying the paper up stairs to put +it upon my father’s bureau, I happened to look at it. Do you know +what it was? The statutes of a new society, of which father was to be +president.” + +“Great God! Is it possible?” + +“Most assuredly, unfortunately. I saw on the top of the paper, ‘Count +Ville-Handry, director in chief’ and after the name followed all his +titles, the high offices he has filled, and the French and foreign +decorations which he has received.” + +Daniel could no longer doubt. He said,-- + +“We knew that they would try to obtain possession of your father’s +fortune, and now we have the proof of it. But what can we ever do, +Henrietta, against the cunning manoeuvres of people like these?” + +She bowed her head, and answered in a tone of resignation,-- + +“I have heard it said that often the mere presence of an inoffensive +child is sufficient to intimidate and frighten away the boldest +criminals. If God wills it so, I will be that child.” + +Daniel tried once more to insist; but she cut him short, saying,-- + +“You forget, my dear friend, that this is, perhaps for many years, the +last time we shall ever be alone together. Let us think of the future. +I have secured the confidence of one of my waiting-women, and to her you +must direct your letters. Her name is Clarissa Pontois. If any grave and +unforeseen necessity should arise, and it becomes absolutely necessary +for me to see you, Clarissa will bring you the key of the little +garden-gate, and you will come.” + +Both of them had their eyes filled with tears; and their hearts felt +increasing anguish as the hand on the dial advanced. They knew they +would have to part. Could they hope ever to meet again? + +It struck four o’clock. Count Ville-Handry reappeared. Stung to the +quick by what he called the insulting remarks of his daughter, he +had stimulated the zeal of his valet; and that artist had evidently +surpassed himself in the arrangement of the hair, and especially in the +complexion. + +“Well, Henrietta?” he asked. + +“My decision remains unchanged, father.” + +The count was probably prepared for this answer; for he succeeded in +controlling his fury. + +“Once more, Henrietta,” he said, “consider! Do not decide rashly, +relying simply upon odious slanders.” + +He drew from his pocket a photograph, looked at it lovingly, and, +handing it to his daughter, he added,-- + +“Here is Miss Brandon’s portrait. Look at it, and see if she to whom +God has given such a charming face, such sublime eyes, can have a bad +heart.” + +For more than a minute Henrietta examined the likeness; and then, +returning it to her father, she said coldly,-- + +“This woman is beautiful beyond all conception. Now I can explain to +myself that new society of which you are going to be director-general.” + +Count Ville-Handry turned pale under this “juncture,” and cried in a +terrible voice,-- + +“Unhappy child! Unhappy child! You dare insult an angel?” + +Maddened with rage, he had lifted up his hand, and was about to strike +his daughter, when Daniel seized his wrist in his iron grasp, and +threateningly, as if he himself was about to strike, he said,-- + +“Ah, sir, have a care! have a care!” + +The count cast upon him a look of concentrated hatred; but, regaining +his self-control, he freed himself, and, pointing at the door, he said +slowly,-- + +“M. Champcey, I order you to leave this house instantly; and I forbid +your ever coming back to it again. My servants will be informed, that, +if any one of them ever allows you to cross the threshold of this house, +he will be instantly dismissed. Go, sir!” + + + + +XI. + +Twenty-four hours after Daniel had thus left Count Ville-Handry’s +palace, pale and staggering, he had not yet entirely recovered from +this last blow. He had made a mortal enemy of the man whom it was his +greatest interest to manage; and this man, who of his own accord would +have parted with him only regretfully, had now turned him disgracefully +out of his house. + +He could hardly account to himself for the way in which this had come +about. Nay, more; retracing step by step, his conduct during the last +few days, it appeared to him pitiful, absurd. And then all that had +happened seemed to have turned against him. + +He accused Fate, that blind goddess, who is always blamed by those who +have not the courage to blame themselves. He was in this state of mind +when there came to him, to his great surprise, a letter from Henrietta. +Thus it was she who anticipated him, and who, sure that he would be +desperate, had the feminine delicacy to write to him almost cheerfully. + + +“Immediately after your departure, my dear Daniel, father ordered me up +stairs, and decided that I should stay there till I should become more +reasonable. I know I shall stay here a long time.” + + +She concluded thus,-- + + +“What we want most of all, oh, my only friend! is courage. Will you have +as much as your Henrietta?” + + +“Oh, certainly, certainly! I shall have all that is needed,” exclaimed +Daniel, moved to tears. + +And he vowed to himself that he would devote himself, heart and soul, +to his work, and there find, if not forgetfulness, at least peace. He +found, however, that to swear was easier than to do. In spite of all +his efforts, he could not fix his thoughts upon any thing else but his +misfortunes. The studies which he had formerly pursued with delight now +filled him with disgust. The balance of his whole life was so completely +destroyed, that he was not able to restore it. + +The existence which he now led was that of a desperate man. As soon as +he had risen, he hurried to M. de Brevan, and remained in his company +as long as he could. Left alone, he wandered at haphazard along the +Boulevards, or up the Champs Elysees. He dined early, hurried home +again, and, putting on a rough overcoat which he had worn on board ship, +he went to roam around the palace of his beloved. + +There, behind those heavy, beautifully carved gates, which were open to +all comers but to him, lived she who was more to him than his life. If +he had struck the flagstones of the sidewalk with the heel of his boots, +she would have heard the sound. He could hear the music of her piano; +and yet the will of one man placed an abyss between them. + +He was dying of inaction. It seemed to him atrocious, humiliating, +intolerable, to be thus reduced to expecting good or evil fortune from +fate, passively, without making an effort, like a man, who having taken +a ticket in a lottery, and is all anxiety to obtain a large fortune, +crosses his arms and waits for the drawing. + +He was suffering thus for six days, and saw no end of it; when one +morning, just as he was going out, his bell rang. He went to open the +door. + +It was a lady, who, without saying a word, swiftly walked in, and as +promptly shut the door behind her. + +Although she was wrapped up in a huge cloak which completely hid +her figure, in spite of the very thick veil before her face, Daniel +recognized her at once. + +“Miss Brandon!” he exclaimed. + +In the meantime she had raised her veil, “Yes, it is I,” she replied, +“risking another calumny in addition to all the others that have been +raised against me, Daniel.” + +Amazed at a step which seemed to him the height of imprudence, he +remained standing in the anteroom, and did not even think of inviting +Miss Brandon to go into the next room, his study. + +She went in of her own accord, quite aloof; and, when he had followed +her, she said to him,-- + +“I came, sir, to ask you what you have done with that promise you gave +me the other night at my house?” + +She waited a moment; and, as he did not reply, she went on,-- + +“Come, I see you are like all men, if they pledge their word to another +man, who is a match for them, they consider it a point of honor to keep +it, but if it is a woman, then they do not keep it, and boast of it!” + +Daniel was furious; but she pretended not to see it, and said more +coldly,-- + +“I--I have a better memory than you, sir; and I mean to prove it to you. +I know what has happened at Count Ville-Handry’s house; he has told me +all. You have allowed yourself to be carried away so far as to threaten +him, to raise your hand against him.” + +“He was going to strike his daughter, and I held his arm.” + +“No, sir! my dear count is incapable of such violence; and yet his own +daughter had dared to taunt him with his weakness, pretending that he +had been induced by me to establish a new industrial company.” + +Daniel said nothing. + +“And you,” continued Miss Brandon,--“you allowed Miss Henrietta to say +all these offensive and absurd things. I should induce the count to +engage in an enterprise where money might be lost! Why? What interest +could I have?” + +Her voice began to tremble; and her beautiful eyes filled with tears. + +“Interest!” she went on to say, “money! The world can think of no other +motive nowadays. Money! I have enough of it. If I marry the count, you +know why I do it,--you! And you also know that it depended, and perhaps, +at this moment, still depends upon one single man, whether I shall break +off that match this very day, now.” + +As she said this, she looked at him in a manner which would have caused +a statue to tremble on its marble pedestal. + +But he, with his heart full of hatred, remained icy, enjoying the +revenge which was thus presented to him. + +“I will believe whatever you wish to say,” he answered in a mocking +tone, “if you will answer me a single question.” + +“Ask, sir.” + +“The other night, when I had left you, where did you go in your +carriage?” + +He expected to see her confused, turning pale, stammer. Not at all. + +“What, you know that?” she said, with an accent of admirable candor. +“Ah! I committed an act of almost as great imprudence as I now do. If +some fool should see me leave your rooms?” + +“Pardon me, Miss Brandon, that is no answer to my question. Where did +you go?” + +And as she kept silent, surprised by Daniel’s firmness, he said +sneeringly,-- + +“Then you confess that it would be madness to believe you? Let us break +off here, and pray to God that I may be able to forget all the wrong you +have done me.” + +Miss Brandon’s beautiful eyes filled with tears of grief or of rage. She +folded her hands, and said in a suppliant tone,-- + +“I conjure you, M. Champcey, grant me only five minutes. I must speak to +you. If you knew”-- + +He could not turn her out; he bowed profoundly before her, and withdrew +into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. But he immediately +applied his eye to the keyhole, and saw Miss Brandon, her features +convulsed with rage, threaten him with her closed hand, and leave the +room hastily. + +“She was going to dig another pit for me,” thought Daniel. + +And the idea that he had avoided it made him, for a part of that day +at least, forget his sorrow. But on the following day he found, when +he returned home, a formidable document from the navy department, and +inside two letters. + +One informed him that he had been promoted to be a lieutenant. + +The other ordered him to report four days hence at Rochefort, on board +the frigate “Conquest,” which was lying in the roadstead waiting for two +battalions of marines to be transferred to Cochin China. + +Daniel had for long years, and with all the eager ambition of a young +man, desired the promotion which he now obtained. That rank had been the +supreme goal of all his dreams since the day on which he learned at the +navy school the rudiments of his perilous vocation. How often, as he +stood leaning against the monkey-railing, and saw boats passing by which +carried officers, had he said to himself,-- + +“When I am a navy lieutenant!” + +Well, now he was a lieutenant. But alas! his wishes, thus realized, +filled him only with disgust and bitterness, like those golden apples, +which, at a distance, shine brightly in the branches of magic trees, and +under the touch of the hand turn into dust and ashes. + +For with the news of his promotion came also the fatal order to a +distant shore. Why did they send such an order to him, who had at the +department an office in which he could render valuable services, while +so many of his comrades, waiting idly in port, watched anxiously, and +with almost feverish impatience, for a chance to go into active service? + +“Ah!” he said to himself, his heart filled with rage, “how could I fail +to recognize in this abominable treachery Miss Brandon’s cunning hand?” + +First she had closed against him the gates of Count Ville-Handry’s +palace, and thus separated him from his beloved Henrietta, so that they +could not meet nor speak to each other. + +But this was not enough for the accursed adventuress. She wanted to +raise a barrier between them which should be more than a mere moral +and social obstacle, one of those difficulties which no human power, no +lover’s ingenuity, could overcome,--the ocean and thousands of miles. + +“Oh, no!” he cried in his anguish, “a thousand times no! Rather give up +my career, rather send in my resignation.” + +Hence, the very next day, he put on his uniform, determined to lay the +matter, first before that officer who was his immediate superior, but +resolved, if he should not succeed there, to go up to the minister +himself. + +He had never worn that uniform since the night of a large court-ball, +where he had danced with Henrietta. It was nearly a year ago, a few +weeks before the death of the Countess Ville-Handry. As he compared his +happiness in those days with his present desperate condition, he was +deeply moved; and his eyes were still brimful of tears when he reached +the navy department, towards ten o’clock in the morning. + +The officer whom he called upon was an old captain, an excellent man, +who had practised the appearance of a grim, stern official so long, that +he had finally become in reality what he only wished to appear. + +Seeing Daniel enter his office, he thought he came to inform him of his +promotion, and made a great effort to smile as he hailed him with the +words,-- + +“Well, Lieut. Champcey, we are satisfied, I hope?” + +And, perceiving that Daniel did not wear the epaulets of his new rank, +he added,-- + +“But how is that, lieutenant? Perhaps you have not heard yet?” + +“I beg your pardon, captain.” + +“Why on earth, then, have you no epaulets?” + +And he began to frown terribly, considering that such carelessness +augured ill for the service. Daniel excused himself as well as he could, +which was very little, and then boldly approached the purpose of his +call. + +“I have received an order for active service.” + +“I know,--on board ‘The Conquest,’ in the roadstead at Rochefort, for +Cochin China.” + +“I have to be at my post in four days.” + +“And you think the time too short? It is short. But impossible to grant +you ten minutes more.” + +“I do not ask for leave of absence, captain; I want the favor--to be +allowed to keep my place here.” + +The old officer could hardly keep his seat. + +“You would prefer not going on board ship,” he exclaimed, “the very day +after your promotion? Ah, come, you are mad!” + +Daniel shook his head sadly. + +“Believe me, captain,” he replied, “I obey the most imperative duty.” + +Leaning back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, the captain +seemed to look for such a duty; then he asked suddenly,-- + +“Is it your family that keeps you?” + +“If my place can really not be filled by one of my comrades, I shall be +compelled to send in my resignation.” + +The old sailor bounded as he heard that word, and said furiously,-- + +“I told you you were a fool!” + +In spite of his determination, Daniel was too much troubled not to +commit a blunder. He insisted,-- + +“It is a matter of life and death with me, captain. And if you only knew +my reasons; if I could tell them”-- + +“Reasons which cannot be told are always bad reasons, sir. I insist upon +what I have told you.” + +“Then, captain, I shall be compelled, to my infinite sorrow, to insist +upon offering my resignation.” + +The old sailor’s brow became darker and darker. He growled. + +“Your resignation, your resignation! You talk of it very lightly. It +remains to be seen whether it will be accepted. ‘The Conquest’ does not +sail on a pleasure-party; she is sent out on a serious campaign, and +will probably be absent for some time. We have unpleasant complications +down there and are sending out reinforcements. You are still in France; +but you are actually under orders to meet the enemy; Men do not resign +in the face of the enemy, Lieut. Champcey!” + +Daniel had turned very pale. + +“You are severe, captain,” he said. + +“I have no idea, I assure you, of being gentle; and, if that can induce +you to change your mind”-- + +“Unfortunately, I cannot alter my decision.” + +The old sailor rose violently, and walked up and down the room several +times, giving vent to his anger in oaths of various kinds; then he +returned to Daniel, and said in his driest tone,-- + +“If that is so, the case is serious; I must report it to the secretary +of the navy. What time is it? Eleven o’clock. Come here again at half- +past twelve. I shall have settled the matter then.” + +Quite certain that his superior would say nothing in his favor, Daniel +retired, walking hurriedly through the narrow passages, when a joyous +voice hailed him, calling out, “Champcey!” + +He turned, and found himself face to face with two of his comrades, with +whom he had been most intimate at school. They said eagerly,-- + +“So you are our superior now?” + +And, with the utmost sincerity, they began to congratulate him, +delighted, as they said, that such good luck should have fallen upon a +man like him, whom everybody thought worthy of the distinction, and who +reflected honor upon the service. No enemy could have inflicted such +suffering upon Daniel as these two friends did. There was not one of +their good wishes which did not amount to a bitter sarcasm; every word +they said told upon him. + +“You must confess, however,” they continued, “that you are a lucky man, +like no other. One day you are made a lieutenant; and the next day they +offer you active service. The next time we meet, you will be a captain +in command of a frigate.” + +“I am not going out,” replied Daniel, fiercely. “I have handed in my +resignation.” + +And, leaving his two friends looking utterly amazed, he went away at a +rapid pace. + +Certainly, he had not foreseen all these difficulties; and in his blind +wrath he charged his chief with injustice and tyranny. He said,-- + +“I must stay in Paris; and I will stay.” + +Reflection, far from calming him, only excited him the more. Having left +home with the intention of offering his resignation only in an extreme +case, he was now determined to adhere to his plan, even if they should +offer him full satisfaction. Had he not an ample income of his own? +and could he not always find an honorable occupation? That would be +far better than to continue in a profession where one is never his own +master, but lives eternally under the dread of some order that may send +him, at a moment’s warning, to heaven knows what part of the world. + +That was the way he reasoned with himself while breakfasting at a tavern +not far off; and when he returned to the department, a little after +twelve, he looked upon himself as already no longer belonging to the +navy, and in his imagination caring little for the final decision. + +It was the hour for receptions, when everybody who had any business at +the department came to look after his interests; and the anteroom +was filled with officers of every grade, some in uniform, others in +citizen’s dress. + +The conversation was very animated; for Daniel heard the sounds from the +outer passage. + +He entered; and there was silence,--sudden, deep, chilling silence. + +Evidently they had been talking about him. + +Even if he could have doubted it for a moment, he read it in the faces +turned aside, the forced smiles, and the cautious glances with which he +was received. He thought, very much troubled,-- + +“What can this mean?” + +In the meantime a young man in citizen’s dress, whom he did not know, +called out from one side of the room to the other, to an old officer +in a seedy uniform, with blackened epaulets (a real sea-dog), +lean, bronzed, wrinkled, and with eyes bearing the traces of recent +ophthalmy,-- + +“Why do you stop, lieutenant? We were much interested, I assure you.” + +The lieutenant seemed to hesitate, as if he were making up his mind to +do a disagreeable thing, which still did not depend on his choice; and +then he resumed his account,-- + +“Well, we got there, convinced that we had taken all the necessary +precautions, and that there was, consequently, nothing to fear,--fine +precautions they turned out to be! In the course of a week the whole +crew was laid up; and as to the staff, little Bertram and I were the +only officers able to appear on deck. Moreover, my eyes were in a state. +You see what they say now. The captain was the first to die; the same +evening five sailors followed suit, and seven the next day; the day +after the first lieutenant and two of the noncommissioned officers. The +like was never seen before.” + +Daniel turned to his neighbor. + +“Who is that officer?” he asked. + +“Lieut. Dutac of ‘The Valorous,’ just returned from Cochin China.” + +Light broke upon Daniel’s mind; it was a painful light. + +“When did ‘The Valorous’ come in?” he asked again. + +“Six days ago she made the harbor of Brest.” + +The other man went on,-- + +“And thus, you see, we left a goodly portion of our crew out there. +That is a campaign! As to my own notions, this is what I think,--a nasty +country, a wretched climate, a people fit for the gallows.” + +“Certainly,” said the young man in citizen’s dress, “things are not +pleasant in Cochin China.” + +“Ah, but still”-- + +“What if you were ordered back?” + +“I would go, of course. Somebody must go, you know, and carry +reinforcements there; but I should not care if somebody else”-- + +He shrugged his shoulders, and said stoically,-- + +“And besides, since we navy men must be eaten by the fish some time or +other, it does not matter very much when that takes place.” + +Was not that, in a trivial, but terribly impressive manner, precisely +the same thing that Daniel had been told by his captain? People do not +resign when they face the enemy. + +It was very evident that the officers who were there assembled doubted +his courage, and were discussing the fact when he entered. It was clear +that they attributed his resignation to fear. + +At this idea, that he might be suspected of cowardice, Daniel trembled +all over. What could he do to prove that he was not a coward? Should he +challenge every one of these men, and fight one, two, ten duels? Would +that prove that he had not shrunk from the unknown perils of a new +country, from the dangers of an armed invasion, and a fatal climate? No; +unless he was willing to remain a marked man for life, he must go; +yes, go, since out there dangers awaited him of which he was held to be +afraid. + +He went up, therefore, to the old lieutenant, and said, in a voice loud +enough to be heard by every one in the room,-- + +“My good comrade, I had just been ordered to the place you come from, +and I had sent in my resignation; but after what you have said,--things +I knew nothing of,--I shall go.” + +There was a murmur of approbation. And one voice said, “Ah! I was sure +of it!” and that was all. But it was quite enough to prove to Daniel +that he had chosen the only way to save his honor, which had been in +imminent peril. But, simple as the whole scene was in itself, it was +very extraordinary, in view of the usual reserve which prevails among +sailors. And, besides, does it not happen almost every day, that an +officer ordered to some station requests and obtains leave to exchange +with some one else, and nothing is said? + +Daniel felt that underneath the whole affair there was some diabolic +intrigue. If Miss Brandon had really procured this order to active +service, was it not likely that she would have taken her measures, so +that he could not possibly avoid going? Were all these men in citizen’s +dress whom he saw there really navy officers? The young man who had +asked Lieut. Dutac to go on in his story had disappeared. Daniel went +from one to the other, inquiring who that clever young man was, but in +vain. Soon a summons came for him to appear in the superior’s office. He +hastened there; and, as he opened the door, he said,-- + +“I’ll follow your advice, captain. In three days I shall be on board +‘The Conquest.’” + +The captain’s stern face cleared up, and he said approvingly,-- + +“All right! You did well to change your mind; for your business began to +look very ugly. The minister is very angry with you.” + +“The minister? And why?” + +“_Primo_, he had charged you with a very important duty.” + +“To be sure,” stammered Daniel, hanging his head; “but I have been so +severely suffering!” + +The fact is, he had totally forgotten that unlucky work. + +“_Secundo_,” continued the old officer, “he was doubtful whether you +were in your right senses, and I agree with him, since he has told me +that you yourself have solicited this appointment on foreign service in +the most urgent terms.” + +Daniel was stunned, and stammered out,-- + +“His Excellency is mistaken.” + +“Ah! I beg your pardon, M. Champcey; I have myself seen your letter.” + +But already a sudden inspiration had, like a flash of lightning, cleared +up the mystery in Daniel’s mind. + +“Ah! I wish I could see it too! Captain, I beseech you show me that +letter!” + +The old officer began almost to think that Champcey was really not in +his right mind. He answered,-- + +“I do not have it; but it is among your papers in the bureau for +Personal Affairs.” + +In a minute Daniel was in the office where those papers were kept, and +obtained, not without much trouble, and under certain conditions only, +leave to look at his papers. He opened the parcel with feverish haste; +and the very first paper that fell in his hands was a letter, dated the +day before, in which he urgently requested the minister to grant him the +special favor of being sent out with the expedition to Cochin China on +board the frigate “Conquest.” + +Daniel was, of course, perfectly sure that he had written no such +letter. + +But the handwriting was so precisely like his own, letter for letter, +and even his signature was so admirably imitated, that he felt for a +moment utterly bewildered, mistrusting, for a second, his own eyes, his +own reason. The whole was done so exceedingly well, that if the matter +had been one of ordinary importance, and the date of the letter had gone +back to a fortnight or so ago, he would certainly have suspected his +memory rather than the letter before him. + +Overcome by the atrocity of such a trick, he exclaimed,-- + +“It is almost incredible!” + +It was, however, only too certain, too indisputable, that the letter +could not have been dictated by any one but Miss Brandon. No doubt, one +of her accomplices, perhaps the great Sir Thorn himself, had written it. +Ah! now Daniel understood the insolent assurance of Miss Brandon, when +she insisted upon his taking poor Malgat’s letters, and repeatedly said, +“Go and show them to the clerks who have known that unhappy man for long +years, and they will tell you if they are his own.” Most assuredly he +would have met with no one bold enough to say the contrary, if Malgat’s +handwriting had been copied with the same distressing perfection as his +own. + +Still he might, perhaps, profit by this strange event; but how? + +Ought he to mention his discovery? What would have been the use? Would +they believe him, if he accused her of forgery, of a trick unsurpassed +in boldness and wickedness? Would they even consent to an investigation; +and, if they instituted one, what would be the result? Where would they +find an expert ready to swear that this letter was not written by him, +when he himself, if each line had been presented to him separately, +would have felt bound to acknowledge it as his own? + +Was it not far more probable, on the contrary, that, after what he had +done in the morning, they would have ascribed his charges to a mistake, +or seen in them a weak invention in order to cover his retreat? +Therefore it was a thousand times better to keep silence, to be resigned +to postpone to another day every attempt to avenge himself in a +manner corresponding to the injury he had suffered, and all the more +effectively, as his vengeance would have been carefully matured. + +But he did not wish that false letter, which might become a formidable +piece of evidence against him, to remain among his papers; no doubt Miss +Brandon would soon find an opportunity of having it withdrawn. He asked, +therefore, for leave to copy it, obtained permission, went to work, and +succeeded, without being seen by anybody, in substituting his copy for +the original. + +When this was done, knowing that he had not a minute to lose, he +instantly left the department, and, jumping into a carriage, drove to M. +de Brevan. + + + + +XII. + +Like all energetic natures, Daniel felt a wonderful relief as soon as he +had formed an irrevocable decision. He would even have enjoyed the peace +that had once more returned to his mind, but for the savage hatred which +had accumulated in his heart, and which confused his thoughts whenever +he remembered Miss Brandon. + +Providentially, it seemed to him, Maxime had not gone out, or, rather, +having been to breakfast at the English cafe with some of his friends, +he had just returned. + +In ten words Daniel had told him every thing, and even shown him that +masterpiece of forgery, which he attributed to Miss Brandon’s mind, and +M. Elgin’s skill. Then, without heeding Maxime’s exclamations of wonder +and indignation, loud and deep as they were, he continued,-- + +“Now, my dear Maxime, listen to me. It may be my last will which I am +going to give in your charge.” + +And, when his friend tried to remonstrate, he insisted,-- + +“I know what I am saying. I am sure I hope I shall not be buried out +there; but the climate is murderous, and I may encounter a cannon-ball. +It is always better to be prepared.” + +He paused a moment to collect his thoughts; and then he went on. + +“You alone, in this world, Maxime, know all my private affairs. I have +no secret from you. I have friends whom I have known longer than you; +but I have none in whom I feel more confidence. Besides, my old friends +are all sailors,--men, who, like myself, may at any moment be sent, +Heaven knows where. Now I want a reliable, safe, and experienced man, +possessed of prudence and energy, and sure not to leave Paris. Will you +be that man, Maxime?” + +M. de Brevan, who had remained in his chair, rose, and, putting his hand +on his heart, said,-- + +“Between us, Daniel, oaths are useless; don’t you think so? I say, +therefore, simply, you may count upon me.” + +“And I do count upon you,” exclaimed Daniel,--“yes, blindly and +absolutely; and I am going to give you a striking proof of it.” + +For a few moments it looked as if he were trying to find some brief and +yet impressive form for his communication; and then he said, speaking +very rapidly,-- + +“If I leave in despair, it is because I leave Henrietta in the hands of +the enemy. What persecution she will have to endure! My heart bleeds at +the mere thought. Miss Brandon must be meditating some terrible blow, or +she would not have been so anxious to keep me at a distance.” + +He sobbed almost, so great was his excitement; but he instantly became +master again of his emotion, and continued,-- + +“Well, Maxime, I shall ask you to watch over Henrietta. I intrust her to +you as I would intrust her to my brother, if I had one.” + +M. de Brevan was about to state some objections; but Daniel cut him +short, saying,-- + +“I will tell you how and in what manner you can watch over Miss +Ville-Handry. To-morrow evening I shall see her, and tell her the new +misfortune which has befallen us. I shall take leave of her then. I know +she will be terrified; but then, to reassure her, I shall explain to her +that I leave her a friend, another myself, ready, like myself, to assist +her at her first summons, and ready, like myself, to run any danger in +order to succor her. I shall tell her to appeal to you as if it were to +myself; to write to you as she used to write to me; to keep you informed +of all they may attempt to do; to consult and to obey you without +hesitation. + +“As to what you will have to do, Maxime, I cannot tell you that, even +in a general way, as I know nothing of Miss Brandon’s plans. I rely +upon your experience to do what is most expedient. Still there are two +alternatives which I can foresee. It may be that her father’s house +becomes impossible for Henrietta, and that she should wish to leave +it. It may also be, that, under certain circumstances, you may think it +inexpedient for her to remain there, and that you have to advise her +to escape. In either case, you will take Henrietta to an old lady, a +relative of mine, who lives at the Rosiers, a little village in the +department of Maine-et-Loire, and whose address I will give you, while I +will inform her beforehand of what may happen.” + +He paused, trying to remember if there was any thing else, and, +recalling nothing, he said,-- + +“This, my dear Maxime, is all I expect you to do for me.” + +With open brow, a clear eye, and grave face, M. de Brevan replied in +a solemn tone of voice, speaking like a man who feels that he deserves +such confidence,-- + +“Friend Daniel, you may sail without fear.” + +But Daniel had not done yet. + +Pressing his friend’s hand heartily, he thanked him, and then with +a careless air, under which he very imperfectly concealed his real +embarrassment, he said,-- + +“There remains only to provide the means for carrying out these +measures, and for possible contingencies. You are not rich, my dear +Maxime, I mean rich in comparison with the people who are your friends; +you have told me so more than once.” + +He touched a wound which was always open, and always bleeding. + +“Certainly,” replied M. de Brevan, “in comparison with a number of my +friends, with men like Gordon Chalusse, for instance, I am only a poor +devil.” + +Daniel did not notice the bitterness of this reply. + +“Now,” he said, “suppose, at a given moment, Miss Henrietta’s safety +should make a certain sum of money necessary,--perhaps a very large +sum,--are you sure you will always have enough in your drawer, and be +able to dispose of it without inconvenience?” + +“Ah! you expect too much of me; but I have friends.” + +“And you would ask them! you would expose yourself to the humiliation of +hearing those set excuses which serve to conceal refusals! I could never +permit that.” + +“I assure you”-- + +“Let me tell you that I have forgotten nothing. Although my means are +modest, I can, by selling out some bonds, realize enough to secure you +against any embarrassment on that score. I also own property in Anjou +which is valued at fifty or sixty thousand dollars, and I mean to sell +it.” + +The other man opened his eyes wide. + +“You mean,” he said slowly. + +“To sell it, yes. You heard right. Except, however, my home, my father’s +house, with the little garden in front, the orchard, and the meadow +adjoining the house. In that house my father and my mother have lived +and died. I find them there, so to _say_, whenever I go in; their +thoughts are still filling the rooms, after so many years. The garden +and the orchard are the first little bits of land my father bought from +his earnings as ploughboy. He cultivated them in his leisure hours, and +there is literally not a foot of soil which he has not moistened with +the sweat of his brow. They are sacred to me; but the rest--I have +already given orders.” + +“And you expect to sell every thing in the three days before your +departure?” + +“Oh, no! But you are here.” + +“What can I do?” + +“Take my place, I should think. I will leave you a power-of-attorney. +Perhaps, if you make haste, you can get fifty thousand dollars for the +property. You will invest that so as to be able to use it any moment. +And, if ever Miss Henrietta should be compelled to leave her father’s +house, you will hand the money over to her.” + +M. de Brevan had turned very pale. + +“Excuse me,” he said, “excuse me.” + +“What?” + +“Well, it seems to me it would be more suitable to leave some one else +in charge of that.” + +“Whom?” + +“Oh! I do not know,--a more experienced man! It may be that the property +will not bring as much as you expect. Or I might invest the money in the +wrong funds. Money questions are so delicate!” + +But Daniel said, shrugging his shoulders,-- + +“I do not understand why you should hesitate to undertake so simple a +thing, when you have already consented to render me so signal and so +difficult a service.” + +So simple! M. de Brevan did not look upon it in that light. + +A nervous shiver, which he could hardly conceal, ran down his backbone; +drops of perspiration broke out on his temples; and he turned deadly +pale. + +“Fifty thousand dollars! That is an enormous sum.” + +“Oh, yes!” replied Daniel in the most careless manner. + +And, looking at the clock, he added,-- + +“Half-past three. Come, Maxime, be quick. My carriage is waiting. The +notary expects us between three and four o’clock.” + +This notary was an exceptional man. He took an interest in the affairs +of his clients, and sometimes even listened to hear their explanations. +When Daniel had told him what he intended doing, he replied,-- + +“You have nothing to do, M. Champcey, but to give M. de Brevan a +power-of-attorney in proper form.” + +“Would it be possible,” asked Daniel, “to have it drawn up at once?” + +“Why not? It can be recorded this evening; and to-morrow”-- + +“Well, then, lose no time.” + +The notary called his chief clerk, gave him briefly his instructions, +then, making a sign to Daniel, he drew him into a kind of recess +resembling an enormous cupboard, adjoining his office, in which he +“confessed” his clients, as he called it. When they were there, he +said,-- + +“How is it, M. Champcey, do you really owe this M. de Brevan so much +money?” + +“Not a cent.” + +“And you leave your entire fortune thus in his hands! You must have +marvellous confidence in the man.” + +“As much as in myself.” + +“That is a good deal. And if he should, during your absence, run away +with the fifty thousand dollars?” + +Daniel was a little shaken; but he remained firm. + +“Oh!” he said, “there are still some honest people in the world.” + +“Ah?” laughed the notary. + +And, from the manner in which he shook his head, it was clearly seen +that experience had made him very sceptical on that subject. + +“If you would only listen to me,” he resumed, “I could prove to you”-- + +But Daniel interrupted him, and said,-- + +“I have no desire, sir, to change my mind; but, even if I should wish to +do so, I cannot retract my word. There are particular circumstances in +this case which I cannot explain to you in so short a time.” + +The notary raised his eyes to the ceiling, and said in a tone of great +pity,-- + +“At least, let me make him give you a deed of defeasance.” + +“Very well, sir.” + +This was done, but in such carefully guarded terms, that even the most +exquisite susceptibility on the part of Maxime could not have been +hurt. It was five o’clock, when the power-of-attorney and the deed were +signed, and the two friends left the worthy notary’s office. It was +too late now for Daniel to write to Henrietta to send him for that same +evening the key to the little garden-gate; but he wrote to get it for +the next evening. + +After that, having dined with M. de Brevan, he went all over Paris in +search of the thousand little things which are necessary for such a long +and perilous voyage. He came home late, and was fortunate enough to fall +asleep as soon as he had lain down. The next morning he breakfasted in +his rooms, for fear of being out of the house when they should bring him +the key. + +It came towards one o’clock. It was brought by a large girl, nearly +thirty years old, with a cross expression of face, and eyes more than +modestly seeking the ground, and with narrow lips which seemed to +be perpetually engaged in reciting prayers. This was Clarissa, whom +Henrietta considered the safest of her waiting-women, and whom she had +taken into her confidence. + +“Miss Henrietta,” she said to Daniel, “has given me this key and this +letter for you, sir. She expects an answer.” + +Daniel tore the envelope, and read,-- + + +“Take care, O my darling friend! to resort to this dangerous expedient +which we ought to reserve for the last extremity. Is what you have to +tell me really so important as you say? I can hardly believe it; and yet +I send you the key. Tell Clarissa the precise hour at which you will be +here.” + + +Alas! the poor girl had no idea of the terrible news that was in store +for her. + +“Request Miss Henrietta,” said Daniel to the maid, “to expect me at +seven o’clock.” + +Sure now of seeing Henrietta, Daniel slipped the key in his pocket, and +hurried away. He had only a short afternoon to himself, and there were +still a thousand things to get, and countless preparations to make. + +At his notary’s, where he went first, he found the papers ready; all +the formalities had been fulfilled. But, at the moment when the deed was +placed before him, the worthy lawyer said in a prophetic voice,-- + +“M. Champcey, take care, reflect! I call that tempting a man pretty +strongly when you hand over to him fifty thousand dollars the day before +you start on a long and dangerous expedition.” + +“Ah! What matters my fortune, if I only see my Henrietta again?” + +The notary looked discouraged. + +“Ah! if there is a woman in the affair, I have nothing more to say.” + +It was as well. The next moment Daniel had forgotten him and his sombre +presentiments. + +Seated in M. de Brevan’s little sitting-room, he was handing over his +deeds and papers to his faithful confidant, explaining to him how he +might make the most of the different parcels of land which he owned; how +certain woods might be sold together; how, on the other hand, a large +farm, now held by one tenant, might be advantageously divided into small +lots, and sold at auction. + +M. de Brevan did not look so pale now. He had recovered his self- +possession, and laid aside his usual reserve in order to show himself +all eagerness for his friend. + +He declared that he would see to it that his friend Daniel should not +be robbed. He intended, therefore, to go himself to Anjou to call upon +those who were likely to purchase, and to be present at the sale. In his +opinion, it would be wiser to sell piecemeal, without hurry. If money +was needed, why, one could always get it at the bank. + +Daniel was deeply touched by the devotion of his friend, whose intense +selfishness he had noticed but too often. Nor was this all. Capable of +the greatest sacrifices where Daniel’s interests were at stake, M. +de Brevan had formed a grand resolution. He proposed to overcome his +aversion to Miss Brandon, and to seek, immediately after her marriage, +an introduction at Count Ville-Handry’s palace, for the purpose of +going there constantly. He might have to play a disagreeable part, he +admitted; but he would thus be enabled to see Miss Henrietta frequently; +he would hear every thing that happened, and be at hand whenever she +should need advice or assistance. + +“Dear Maxime,” repeated Daniel, “dear, excellent friend, how can I ever +thank you for all you are doing for me!” + +As the day before, they dined together at one of the restaurants on the +boulevard; and after dinner M. de Brevan insisted upon accompanying +his friend back to Count Ville-Handry’s house. As they reached it long +before the appointed hour, they walked up and down on the sidewalk which +runs along the wall of the immense park belonging to the palace. It was +a cold but perfectly clear night. There was not a cloud in the sky, no +mist nor haze; and the moon was shining so brightly, that one could have +read by its light. + +In the meantime seven o’clock struck at a neighboring convent. + +“Come, courage, my friend!” said M. de Brevan. + +And, pressing his hand once more cordially, he walked off rapidly in the +direction of the Invalides. + +Daniel had not answered a word. Terribly excited, he had drawn near the +small door, examining anxiously all the surroundings. The street was +deserted. But he trembled so violently, that for a moment he thought +he would never be able to turn the key in the rusty lock. At last he +succeeded in opening it, and he slipped into the garden. + +No one there. He was the first on the spot. + +Looking for some dark place under the tall trees, he hid himself there, +and waited. It seemed to him a century. He had counted sixty by the +beating of his pulse ever so many times, and was beginning to be very +anxious, when at last he heard some dry branches crackling under rapid +footsteps. A shadow passed between the trees. He went forward, and +Henrietta was standing before him. + +“What is it now, great God!” she said anxiously. “Clarissa said you +looked so pale and undone, that I have been terribly frightened.” + +Daniel had come to the conclusion that the plain truth would be less +cruel than the most skilful precautions. + +“I have been ordered on active service,” he replied, “and I must be on +board ship the day after tomorrow.” + +And then, without concealing any thing, he told her all he had suffered +since the day before. Miss Ville-Handry felt as if she had been stunned +by a crushing blow. She was leaning against a tree. Did she even hear +Daniel? Yes; for, suddenly rousing herself, she said,-- + +“You will not obey! It is impossible for you to obey!” + +“Henrietta, my honor is at stake.” + +“Ah, what does it matter?” + +He was about to reply; but she continued in a broken voice,-- + +“You will certainly not go when you have heard me. You think I am +strong, brave, and capable to breast the storm? You are mistaken. I was +only drawing upon your energy, Daniel. I am a child, full of daring as +long as it rests on its mother’s knee, but helpless as soon as it feels +that it is left to itself; I am only a woman, Daniel; I am weak.” + +The unhappy man felt his strength leaving him; he could no longer bear +the restraint which he had imposed upon himself. + +“You insist upon sending me off in utter despair?” he asked her. “Ah, I +have hardly courage enough for myself!” + +She interrupted him with a nervous laugh, and said in bitter sarcasm,-- + +“It would be courage to stay, to despise public opinion.” + +And, as any thing appeared to her preferable to such a separation, she +added,-- + +“Listen! If you will stay, I will yield. Let us go together to my +father, and I will tell him that I have overcome my aversion to Miss +Brandon. I will ask him to present me to her; _I_ will humble myself +before her.” + +“That is impossible, Henrietta.” + +She bent towards him, joining her hands; and in a suppliant voice she +repeated,-- + +“Stay, I beseech you, in the name of our happiness! If you have ever +loved me, if you love me now, stay!” + +Daniel had foreseen this heartrending scene; but he had vowed, that, +if his heart should break, he would have the fortitude to resist +Henrietta’s prayers and tears. + +“If I were weak enough to give way now, Henrietta,” he said, “you would +despise me before the month is over; and I, desperate at having to drag +out a life of disgrace, would blow out my brains with a curse on you.” + +With her arms hanging listlessly by her side, her hands crossed behind +her, Miss Ville-Handry stood there motionless, like a statue. She felt +in her heart that Daniel’s resolution was not to be shaken. + +Then he said in a gentle voice,-- + +“I am going, Henrietta; but I leave you a friend of mine,--a true and +noble friend, who will watch over you. You have heard me speak of him +often,--Maxime de Brevan. He knows my wishes. Whatever may happen, +consult him. Ah! I should leave more cheerfully if you would promise me +to trust this faithful friend, to listen to his advice, and to follow +his directions.” + +“I promise you, Daniel, I will obey him.” + +But a rustling of the dry leaves interrupted them. + +They turned round. A man was cautiously approaching them. + +“My father!” cried Henrietta. + +And, pushing Daniel towards the gate, she begged him to flee. + +To remain would only have been to risk a painful explanation, insults, +perhaps even a personal collision. Daniel understood that but too well. + +“Farewell,” he said to Henrietta, “farewell! Tomorrow you will receive a +letter from me.” + +And he escaped, but not so promptly that he should not have heard the +count’s angry voice, as he said,-- + +“Ah, ah! Is this the virtuous young lady who dares to insult Miss +Sarah?” + +As soon as Daniel had locked the door again, he listened for a moment, +hoping that he might hear something of importance. But he could only +make out a few indistinct exclamations, then nothing, nothing more. + +It was all over now. He would have to sail without seeing Henrietta +again, without enjoying that bitter happiness of holding her once more +in his arms. And yet he had told her nothing of all he had to tell her; +he had not spoken to her of half his recommendations, nor given her a +thousandth part of his tender farewells. + +How had they been surprised? How came it about that the count had stayed +at home, instead of hurrying off immediately after dinner, as was his +custom? Why should he have inquired after his daughter, he who generally +took no more trouble about her than if she had not existed? + +“Ah, we have been betrayed!” thought the unhappy man. + +By whom? By that unpleasant maid evidently, whom he had seen that +morning; by that very Clarissa in whom Henrietta put such confidence. If +that was so,--and it was but too probable,--to whom should he send his +letters hereafter? Here, again, he saw himself reduced to Maxime de +Brevan as the only one who could convey news from him to Henrietta. Ah! +he recognized but too clearly the execrable but most cunning policy of +Miss Brandon. + +“The wretch!” he swore; “the infamous woman!” + +Wrath, mad wrath, set his brains on fire. And he could do nothing +against that woman! + +“But she does not stand alone!” he suddenly exclaimed. “There is a man +there who shelters her under his responsibility,--Sir Thorn!” + +M. Elgin might be insulted; he might be struck in the face, and thus be +compelled to fight. + +And, without considering this absurd plan, he hurried to Circus Street. +Although it was barely eight o’clock, Miss Brandon’s house looked as if +everybody were asleep. He rang the bell, however; and, when a servant +came to the door, he inquired,-- + +“M. Thomas Elgin?” + +“M. Elgin is absent,” replied the servant. + +“At what hour will he be back?” + +“He is not coming home to-night.” + +And whether he had received special instructions, or was only acting +upon general orders, he added,-- + +“Mrs. Brian is at the theatre; but Miss Brandon is at home.” + +Daniel’s wrath changed into a kind of cold fury. + +“They expected me,” he thought. + +And he hesitated. Should he see Miss Brandon? But for what end? He was +just turning away, when a sudden thought occurred to him. Why should he +not talk with her, come to an understanding, and perhaps make a bargain +with her? + +“Show me to Miss Brandon’s room,” he said to the servant. + +She sat, as she always did when left alone in the house, in the little +boudoir, where Daniel had already once been carried by her. Dressed in a +long dressing-wrapper of pale-blue cashmere, her hair scarcely taken up +at all, she was reading, reclining on a sofa. + +As the door opened, she raised herself carelessly a little, and, without +turning around, asked,-- + +“Who is that?” + +But, when the servant announced the name of M. Champcey, she rose with a +bound, almost terrified, dropping the book which she had in her hand. + +“You!” she murmured as soon as the servant had left. “Here, and of your +own accord?” + +Firmly resolved this time to remain master of his sensations, Daniel had +stopped in the middle of the room, as stiff as a statue. + +“Don’t you know, madam, what brings me here? All your combinations have +succeeded admirably; you triumph, and we surrender.” + +She looked at him in perfect amazement, stammering-- + +“I do not understand you. I do not know what you mean.” + +He shrugged his shoulders, and continued in an icy tone,-- + +“Do me the honor to think that I am not altogether a fool. I have seen +the letter which you have sent to the minister, signed with my name. I +have held that masterpiece of forgery in my hand and know now how you +free yourself of my presence!” + +Miss Brandon interrupted him with an angry gesture,-- + +“Then it is really so! He has done it; he has dared do it!” + +“Who is this he? M. Thomas Elgin, no doubt?” + +“No, not he; another man.” + +“Name him!” + +She hesitated, hung her head, and then said with a great effort,-- + +“I knew they wished to separate us; and, without knowing precisely what +means they would employ, I suspected them. And, when I came to you the +other day, I wanted to say to you, ‘Have a care!’ and you, M. Champcey, +you drove me from you.” + +He looked upon her with such an ironical smile that she broke off, and +cried,-- + +“Ah, he does not believe me! Tell me that you do not believe me!” + +He bowed ceremoniously, and replied in his gravest manner,-- + +“I believe, Miss Brandon, that you desire to become Countess Ville- +Handry; and you clear everything out of your path that can hinder you in +your plans.” + +She was about to answer; but he did not give her time, and continued,-- + +“Mark, I pray, that I make no charges. Come, let us play openly. You +are too sensible and too practical to hate us--Miss Henrietta and +myself--from gratuitous and purely platonic motives. You hate us because +we are in your way. How are we in your way? Tell me; and, if you will +promise to help us, we--Henrietta and I--pledge ourselves not to stand +in your way.” + +Miss Brandon looked as if she could not trust her ears. + +“But, sir, this is a bargain, I should say, which you propose?” + +“Yes, indeed! And, that there may be no misunderstanding, I will mention +the precise terms: if you will swear to be kind to Henrietta during my +absence, to protect her against violence on the part of her father, and +never to force her to act contrary to her sentiments for me, I will give +you, in return, my word that I shall give up to you, without dispute +and without reserve, the whole immense fortune possessed by Count +Ville-Handry.” + +Succumbing to her grief, Miss Brandon seemed to be almost fainting; and +big tears rolled down her cheeks. + +“Have I not yet been humiliated sufficiently?” she said in a low voice. +“Must you add shame to shame? Daniel, you think I am very mean.” + +And, checking the sobs which impeded her words, she went on,-- + +“And yet I cannot blame you for it, I cannot. No, you are right! Every +thing is against me; every thing bears witness against me. Yes, I must +appear a very wicked girl in your eyes. If you knew the truth, however, +Daniel--if I could, if I dared, tell you all!” + +She drew nearer to him, all trembling; and then continued in a still +lower tone of voice, as if she feared to be overheard,-- + +“Do you not understand yet that I am no longer my own? Unfortunate as +I am, they have taken me, bound me, fettered me. I have no longer the +right to have a will of my own. If they say, ‘Do this!’ I must needs do +it. What a life I lead! Great God! Ah, if you had been willing, Daniel! +If you were willing even now!” + +She became excited almost to exaltation; her eyes, moist with tears, +shone with matchless splendor; passing blushes colored her face; and her +voice had strange, weird vibrations. + +Was she forgetting herself? Was she really about to betray her secret? +or was she merely inventing a new falsehood? Why should he not let her +go on? + +“That is no answer, Miss Brandon,” at last said Daniel. “Will you +promise me to protect Henrietta?” + +“Do you really love her so dearly, your Henrietta?” + +“Better than life!” + +Miss Brandon turned as white as the lace on her dress; a flash of +indignation shot through her eyes; and, drying her tears, she said +curtly,-- + +“Oh!” + +Then Daniel replied,-- + +“You will give me no answer, madam?” + +And, as she persisted in her silence, he resumed,-- + +“Very well, then, I understand. You declare open war. Be it so! Only +listen to me carefully. I am setting out on a dangerous expedition, and +you hope I shall never return. Undeceive yourself, Miss Brandon; I shall +return. With a passion like mine, with so much love in one’s heart, and +so much hatred, a man can defy every thing. The murderous climate will +not touch me; and, if I had ten rifle-balls in my body, I should still +have the strength to return, and hold you to an account for what you +have done to Henrietta. And if you have touched a hair on her head, if +you have made her shed a single tear, by all that is holy, it will bring +ill luck to you, and ill luck to others!” + +He was going to leave her, when a thought struck him. + +“I ought to tell you, moreover,” he added, “that I leave a faithful +friend behind me; and, if the count or his daughter should die very +suddenly, the coroner will be informed. And now, madam, farewell--or, +rather, till we meet again!” + +At eight o’clock on the evening of the next day, after having left in +M. de Brevan’s hands a long letter for Henrietta, and after having given +him his last instructions, Daniel took his seat in the train which was +to take him to his new post. + + + + +XIII. + +It was a week after Daniel’s departure, a Wednesday, and about half- +past eleven o’clock. + +Some thirty carriages, the most elegant, by all means, that Paris could +boast of, were standing alongside of the Church of St. Clothilda. In the +pretty little square before the building, some hundred and fifty or two +hundred idlers were waiting with open mouths. The passers-by, noticing +the crowd, went up and asked,-- + +“What is going on?” + +“A wedding,” was the answer. + +“And a grand wedding, apparently.” + +“Why, the grandest thing you ever saw. It is a nobleman, and an +immensely rich one, who is going to be married,--Count Ville-Handry. +He marries an American lady. They have been in the church now for some +time, and they will soon come out again.” + +Under the porch a dozen men, in the orthodox black costume, with yellow +kid gloves, and white cravats showing under their overcoats, evidently +men belonging to the wedding-party, were chatting merrily while they +were waiting for the end of the ceremony. If they were amused, they +hardly showed it; for some made an effort to hide their yawning, while +others kept up a broken conversation, when a small _coupe_ drove up, and +stopped at the gate. + +“Gentlemen,” said a young man, “I announce M. de Brevan.” + +It was he really. + +He stepped leisurely out of his carriage, and came up in his usual +phlegmatic manner. He knew the majority, perhaps, of the young men in +the crowd; and so he commenced at once shaking hands all around, and +then said in an easy tone of voice,-- + +“Who has seen the bride?” + +“I!” replied an old beau, whose perpetual smile displayed all the +thirty-two teeth he owed to the dentist. + +“Well, what do you think of her?” + +“She is always sublime in her beauty, my dear. When she walked up the +aisle to kneel down at the altar, a murmur of admiration followed her +all the way. Upon my word of honor, I thought they would applaud.” + +This was too much enthusiasm. M. de Brevan cut it short, asking,-- + +“And Count Ville-Handry?” + +“Upon my word,” replied the old beau ironically, “the good count can +boast of a valet who knows almost as much as Rachel, the famous English +enameller. At a little distance you would have sworn that he was +sixteen years old, and that he was going, not to be married, but to be +confirmed.” + +“And how did he look?” + +“Restless, I think.” + +“He might well be,” observed a stout, elderly gentleman, who was said +not to be very happily married. + +Everybody laughed; but a very young man, a mere youth, who did not catch +the joke, said,-- + +“Why so?” + +A man of about thirty years, a perfect model of elegance, whom the +others called, according to the degree of intimacy which they could +claim, either “Your Grace,” or “Duke” simply replied,-- + +“Because, my dear viscount, Miss Brandon is one of those ladies who +never are married. They are courted; they are worshipped; they make +us commit a thousand follies for their sakes; they allow us to ruin +ourselves, and, finally, to blow our brains out for them, all right! But +to bear our name, never!” + +“It is true,” said Brevan, “that they tell a number of stories about +her; but it is all gossip. However”-- + +“You certainly would not ask,” replied the duke, “that I should prove +her to have been brought before a police-court, or to have escaped from +the penitentiary?” + +And, without permitting himself to be interrupted, he went on,-- + +“Good society in France, they say, is very exclusive. It does not +deserve that reputation. Except, perhaps, a score of houses, where old +traditions are still preserved, all other houses are wide open to the +first-comer, man or woman, who drives up in a carriage. And the number +of such first-comers is prodigiously large. Where do they come from? No +one knows. From Russia, from Turkey, from America, from Hungary, from +very far, from everywhere, from below, I do not count the impudent +fellows who are still muddy from the gutter in which they have been +lying. How do all these people live? That is a mystery. But they do +live, and they live well. They have, or at least seem to have, money; +and they shine, they intrigue, they conspire, they make believe, and +they extort. So that I verily believe all this high-life society, by +dint of helping one another, of pushing and crowding in, will, in the +end, be master of all. You may say that I am not in the crowd. Very +true. I willingly shake hands with the workmen who work for me, and +who earn their living worthily; but I do not shake hands with these +ambiguous personages in yellow kids, who have no title but their +impudence, and no means of living but their underhand intrigues.” + +He addressed himself apparently to no one, following, with his absent- +minded glance, the crowd in the garden; and yet, by his peculiar +manner, you would have known that he was speaking at some one among the +listeners. + +However, it was evident that he had no success, and that his doctrine +seemed to be utterly out of season, and almost ridiculous. A young man +with a delicate black mustache, and extremely well dressed, even turned +to his neighbor, and asked,-- + +“Who is our friend, the preacher?” + +“What! don’t you know him?” replied the other. + +“That is the Duke of Champdoce, you know, who has married a princess of +Mussidan. Quite an original.” + +M. de Brevan, however, had remained perfectly impassive, and now said,-- + +“At all events, I suppose it was not altogether a question of interest +which made Miss Brandon marry the count.” + +“Why not?” + +“Because she is immensely rich.” + +“Pshaw!” + +An old gentleman came up, and said,-- + +“She must needs be perfectly disinterested; for I have it from the count +himself that none of the property is to be settled upon Miss Brandon.” + +“That certainly is marvellously disinterested.” + +Having said what he meant to say, the duke had entered the church; and +the old beau now took the word. + +“The only thing that is clear to me in this matter is, that I think I +know the person whom this wedding will not please particularly.” + +“Whom do you mean?” + +“Count Ville-Handry’s daughter, a young girl, eighteen years old, and +wondrously pretty. Just imagine! Besides, I have looked for her all over +the church, and she is not there.” + +“She is not present at the wedding,” replied the old gentleman, the +friend of Count Ville-Handry, “because she was suddenly taken ill.” + +“So they say,” interposed the young man; “but the fact is, that a friend +of mine has just seen her driving out in her carriage in full dress.” + +“That can hardly be so.” + +“My friend was positive. She intended this pretty piece of scandal as a +wedding-present for her stepmother.” + +M. de Brevan shrugged his shoulders, and said in an undertone,-- + +“Upon my word, I should not like to stand in the count’s shoes.” + +As a faithful echo of the gossip that was going on in society, this +conversation, carried on in broken sentences, under the porch of St. +Clothilda, made it quite clear that public opinion was decidedly in +favor of Miss Brandon. It would have been surprising if it should have +been otherwise. She triumphed; and the world is always on the side of +the victor. That Duke of Champdoce, an original, was the only one there +who was disposed to remember the past; the others had forgotten it. The +brilliancy of her success was even reflected on those who belonged to +her; and a young man who copied to exaggeration English fashions was +just singing the praises of M. Thomas Elgin and Mrs. Brian, when a great +commotion was noticed under the porch. + +People came out, and said,-- + +“It is all over. The wedding-guests are in the vestry now to sign their +names.” + +The conversation stopped at once. The old beau alone exclaimed,-- + +“Gentlemen, if we wish to present our respects to the newly-married +couple, we must make haste.” + +And with these words he hurried into the church, followed by all the +others, and soon reached the vestry, which was too small to hold all +the guests invited by Count Ville-Handry. The parish register had been +placed upon a small table; and every one approached, as his turn came, +taking off his gloves before seizing the pen. Fronting the door, and +leaning against one of the cupboards in which the holy vessels are kept, +stood Miss Brandon, now Countess Ville-Handry, having at her side grim +Mrs. Brian, and tall, stiff M. Elgin. + +Her admirers had exaggerated nothing. In her white bridal costume she +looked amazingly beautiful; and her whole person exhaled a perfume of +innocence and ingenuous purity. + +She was surrounded by eight or ten young persons, who overwhelmed +her with congratulations and compliments. She replied with a slightly +tremulous voice, and casting down her eyes with the long, silky +eyelashes. Count Ville-Handry stood in the centre of the room, swelling +with almost comic happiness; and at every moment, in replying to his +friends, used the words, “My wife,” like a sweet morsel which he rolled +on his tongue. + +Still a careful observer might have noticed underneath his victorious +airs a trace of almost painful restraint. From time to time his +face darkened as one of those unlucky, awkward people, who turn up +everywhere, asked him,-- + +“I hope Miss Henrietta is not complaining much? How very sorry she must +be to be detained at home!” + +It is true, that, among these unlucky ones, there were not a few +malicious ones. Nobody was ignorant that something unpleasant had +happened in the count’s family. They had suspected something from the +beginning of the ceremony. + +For the count had hardly knelt down by Miss Brandon’s side, on a velvet +cushion, when a servant wearing his livery had come up, and whispered +a few words in his ear. The guests who were nearest had seen him turn +pale, and utter an expression of furious rage. + +What had the servant told him? + +It became soon known, thanks to the Countess Bois, who went about +telling everybody with inexhaustible volubility, that she had just met +Miss Ville-Handry in the street. + +When the last name had been signed, nobody was, therefore, surprised +at seeing Count Ville-Handry give his arm to his wife, and hand her +hurriedly to her carriage,--a magnificent state-carriage. He had +invited some twenty people, former friends of his, to a great wedding- +breakfast; but he seemed to have forgotten them. And once in his +carriage, alone with Mrs. Brian, M. Elgin, and the young countess, he +broke forth in incoherent imprecations and absurd threatenings. + +When they reached the palace, he did not wait for the coachman to drive +as usually around the yard, but jumped out, and, rushing up to the +vestibule, cried out,-- + +“Ernest! send Ernest here!” + +Ernest was his own valet, the clever artist to whom he was indebted for +the roses of his complexion. As soon as he appeared, he asked,-- + +“Where is the young lady?” + +“Gone out.” + +“When?” + +“Immediately after you, sir.” + +The young countess, Mrs. Brian, and M. Elgin, had, in the meantime, come +up, and gone into the room in the lower story, where this scene took +place. + +“Do you hear that?” he asked them. + +Then, turning again to the valet, he asked,-- + +“How did it happen?” + +“Very naturally. The gates had not been closed behind your carriage, +sir, when the young lady rang the bell. They went up to see what she +wanted, and she ordered the landau to be brought round. She was told +very respectfully, that all three coachmen were out, and that there was +no one there to drive her. ‘If that be so,’ she answered, ‘I want you to +run and get me a hired carriage.’ And, when the servant to whom she gave +the order hesitated, she added, ‘If you do not go instantly, I shall go +myself.’” + +The count trembled with rage. + +“And then?” he asked, seeing that the man was hesitating. + +“Then the servant was frightened, and did what she wanted.” + +“He is dismissed, the fool!” exclaimed Count Ville-Handry. + +“But allow me to _say_,” commenced Ernest. + +“No! Let his wages be paid. And you go on.” + +Without showing any embarrassment, the valet shrugged his shoulders, and +continued in a lazy tone,-- + +“Then the hack came into the court-yard; and we saw the young lady +come down in a splendid toilet, such as we have never seen her wear +before,--not pretty exactly, but so conspicuous, that it must have +attracted everybody’s attention. She settled herself coolly on the +cushions, while we looked at her, utterly amazed; and, when she was +ready, she said, ‘Ernest, you will tell my father that I shall not +be back for breakfast. I have a good many visits to make; and, as +the weather is fine, I shall afterwards go to the Bois de Boulogne.’ +Thereupon the gates were opened, and off they went. It was then that I +took the liberty to send you word, sir.” + +In all his life Count Ville-Handry had not been so furious. The veins +in his neck began to swell; and his eyes became bloodshot, as if he had +been threatened with a fit of apoplexy. + +“You ought to have kept her from going out,” he said hoarsely. “Why did +you not prevent her? You ought to have made her go back to her room, use +force if necessary, lock her up, bind her.” + +“You had given no orders, sir.” + +“You ought to have required no orders to do your duty. To let a mad +woman run about! an impudent girl whom I caught the other day in the +garden with a man!” + +He cried out so loud, that his voice was heard in the adjoining room, +where the invited guests were beginning to assemble. The unhappy man! He +disgraced his own child. The young countess at once came up to him and +said,-- + +“I beseech you, my dear friend, be calm!” + +“No, this must end; and I mean to punish the wicked girl.” + +“I beseech you, my dear count, do not destroy the happiness of the first +day of our married life. Henrietta is only a child; she did not know +what she was doing.” + +Mrs. Brian was not of the same opinion. She declared,-- + +“The count is right. The conduct of this young lady is perfectly +shocking.” + +Then Sir Thorn interrupted her, saying,-- + +“Ah, ah! Brian, where is our bargain? Was it not understood that we +would have nothing to do with the count’s private affairs?” + +Thus every one took up at once his assigned part. The countess advocated +forbearance; Mrs. Brian advised discipline; and Sir Thorn was in favor +of silent impartiality. + +Besides, they easily succeeded in calming the count. But, after such a +scene, the wedding breakfast could not be very merry. The guests, who +had heard nearly all, exchanged strange looks with each other. + +“The count’s daughter,” they thought, “and a lover? That can hardly be!” + +In vain did the count try to look indifferent; in vain did the young +countess display all her rare gifts. Everybody was embarrassed; nobody +could summon up a smile; and every five minutes the conversation gave +out. At half-past four o’clock, the last guest had escaped, and the +count remained alone with his new family. It was growing dark, and they +were bringing in the lamps, when the rolling of carriage-wheels was +heard on the sand in the court-yard. The count rose, turning pale. + +“Here she comes!” he said. “Here is my daughter!” + +It was Henrietta. + +How could a young girl, usually so reserved, and naturally so timid, +make up her mind to cause such scandal? Because the most timid people +are precisely the boldest on certain occasions. Forced to abandon +their nature, they do not reason, and do not calculate, and, losing all +self-possession, rush blindly into danger, impelled by a kind of madness +resembling that of sheep when they knock their heads against the walls +of their stable. + +Now, for nearly a fortnight, the count’s daughter had been upset by +so many and so violent emotions, that she was no longer herself. The +insults which her father heaped upon her when he surprised her with +Daniel had unsettled her mind completely. + +For Count Ville-Handry, acting under a kind of overexcitement, had that +day lost all self-control, and forgot himself so far as to treat his +daughter as no gentleman would have treated his child while in his +senses, and that in the presence of his servants! + +And then, what tortures she had had to endure in the week that followed! +She had declared that she would not be present at the reading of the +marriage-contract, nor at the ceremonies of the civil marriage, nor +at church; and her father had tried to make her change her intentions. +Hence every day a new lamentable scene, as the decisive moment drew +nearer. + +If the count had at least used a little discretion, if he had tried +the powers of persuasion, or sought to touch his daughter’s heart by +speaking to her of herself, of her future, of her happiness, of her +peace! + +But no! He never came to her room without a new insult, thinking of +nothing, as he acknowledged himself, but of sparing Miss Brandon’s +feelings, and of saving her all annoyance. The consequence was, that his +threats, so far from moving Henrietta, had only served to strengthen her +in her determination. + +The marriage-contract had been read and signed at six o’clock, just +before a grand dinner. At half-past five, the count had once more come +to his daughter’s room. Without telling her any thing of it, he had +ordered her dressmaker to send her several magnificent dresses; and they +were lying about now, spread out upon chairs. + +“Dress yourself,” he said in a tone of command, “and come down!” + +She, the victim of that kind of nervous exaltation which makes martyrdom +appear preferable to yielding, replied obstinately,-- + +“No, I shall not come down.” + +She did not care for any subterfuge or excuse; she did not even pretend +to be unwell; she said resolutely-- + +“I will not!” + +And he, finding himself unable to overcome this resistance, maddened and +enraged, broke out in blasphemies and insane threats. + +A chambermaid, who had been attracted by the loud voice, had come, and, +putting her ear to the keyhole, had heard every thing; and the same +evening she told her friends how the count had struck his daughter, and +that she had heard the blows. + +Henrietta had always denied the charge. + +Nevertheless, it was but too true, that, in consequence of these last +insults, she had come to the determination to make her protest as +public as she could by showing herself to all Paris while her father was +married at St. Clothilda to Miss Brandon. The poor girl had no one +to whom she could confide her griefs, no one to tell her that all the +disgrace would fall back upon herself. + +So she had carried out her plan bravely. Putting on a very showy +costume, so as to attract as much attention as possible, she had spent +the day in driving about to all the places where she thought she would +meet most of her acquaintances. Night alone had compelled her to return, +and she felt broken to pieces, exhausted, upset by unspeakable anguish +of soul, but upheld by the absurd idea that she had done her duty and +shown herself worthy of Daniel. + +She had just alighted, and was about to pay the coachman, when the +count’s valet came up, and said to her in an almost disrespectful tone +of voice,-- + +“My master has ordered me to tell you to come to him as soon as you +should come home.” + +“Where is my father?” + +“In the large reception-room.” + +“Alone?” + +“No. The countess, Mrs. Brian, and M. Elgin are with him.” + +“Very well. I am coming.” + +Gathering all her courage, and looking whiter and colder than the marble +of the statues in the vestibule, she went to the reception-room, opened +the door, and entered stiffly. + +“Here you are!” exclaimed Count Ville-Handry, restored to a certain +degree of calmness by the very excess of his wrath,--“here you are!” + +“Yes, father.” + +“Where have you been?” + +She had at a glance taken in the whole room; and at the sight of the new +countess, and those whom she called her accomplices, all her resentment +arose. She smiled haughtily, and said carelessly,-- + +“I have been at the Bois de Boulogne. In the morning I went out to make +some purchases; later, knowing that the Duchess of Champdoce is a little +unwell, and does not go out, I went to lunch with her; after that, as +the weather was so fine”-- + +Count Ville-Handry could endure it no longer. + +Seizing his daughter by the wrists, he lifted her bodily, and, dragging +her up to the Countess Sarah, he hurled out,-- + +“On your knees, unhappy child! on your knees, and ask the best and +noblest of women to pardon you for all these insults!” + +“You hurt me terribly, father,” said the young girl coldly. + +But the countess had already thrown herself between them. + +“For Heaven’s sake, madam,” she said, “spare your father!” + +And, as Henrietta measured her from head to foot with an insulting +glance, she went on,-- + +“Dear count, don’t you see that your violence is killing me?” + +Promptly Count Ville-Handry let his daughter go, and, drawing back, he +said,-- + +“Thank her, thank this angel of goodness who intercedes in your behalf! +But have a care! my patience is at an end. There are such things as +houses of correction for rebellious children and perverse daughters.” + +She interrupted him by a gesture, and exclaimed with startling energy,-- + +“Be it so, father! Choose among all these houses the very strictest, and +send me there. Whatever I may have to suffer there, it will be +better than being here, as long as I see in the place of my mother +that--woman!” + +“Wretch!” howled the count. + +He was suffocating. By a violent effort he tore off his cravat; and, +conscious that he was no longer master of himself, he cried to his +daughter,-- + +“Leave me, leave me! or I answer for nothing.” She hesitated a moment. + +Then, casting upon the countess one more look full of defiance, she +slowly went out of the room. + + + + +XIV. + +“Well, I am sure the count can boast that he has had a curious +wedding-day.” + +This was the way the servants spoke at the moment when Henrietta left +the reception-room. She heard it; and without knowing whether they +approved her conduct, or laughed at it, she felt gratified, so eager is +passion for encouragement from anywhere. + +But she had not yet gone half-way up the stairs which led to her own +rooms, when she was held at the place by the sound of all the bells of +the house, which had been set in motion by a furious hand. She bent over +the balusters to listen. The servants were rushing about; the vestibule +resounded with hurried steps; and she distinguished the imperious voice +of M. Ernest, the count’s valet, who called out,-- + +“Salts, quick! Fresh water. The countess has a nervous attack.” + +A bitter smile curled Henrietta’s lips. + +“At least,” she said to herself, “I shall have poisoned this woman’s +joy.” And, fearing to be caught thus listening, she went up stairs. + +But, when she was alone once more, the poor girl failed not to recognize +the utter futility of her fancied triumph. Whom had she wounded, after +all? Her father. + +However unwell the countess might be to-night,--and perhaps she was not +really unwell,--she would certainly be well again in the morning; and +then what would be the advantage of the scandal she had attempted in +order to ruin her? Now Henrietta saw it very clearly,--now, when it was +too late. + +Worse than that! She fancied that what she had done to-day pledged +her for the future. The road upon which she had started evidently led +nowhere. Never mind, it seemed to her miserable cowardice to shrink from +going on. + +Rising with the sun, she was deliberating on what weak point she might +make her next attack, when there came a knock at the door, and Clarissa, +her own maid, entered. + +“Here is a letter for you, miss,” she said. “I have received it this +moment, in an envelope addressed to me.” + +Henrietta examined the letter for a long time before opening it, +studying the handwriting, which she did not know. Who could write to +her, and in this way, unless it was Maxime de Brevan, to whom Daniel +had begged her to intrust herself, and who, so far, had given no sign of +life of himself? + +It was M. de Brevan who wrote thus,-- + + +“Madam,--Like all Paris, I also have heard of your proud and noble +protest on the day of your father’s unfortunate marriage. Egotists and +fools will perhaps blame you. But you may despise them; for all the best +men are on your side. And my dear Daniel, if he were here, would approve +and admire your courage, as I do myself.” + + +She drew a full breath, as if her heart had been relieved of a heavy +burden. + +Daniel’s friend approved her conduct. This was enough to stifle +henceforth the voice of reason, and to make her disregard every idea of +prudence. The whole letter of M. de Brevan was, moreover, nothing but a +long and respectful admonition to resist desperately. + +Farther on he wrote,-- + + +“At the moment of taking the train, Daniel handed me a letter, in which +he expresses his innermost thoughts. With a sagacity worthy of such a +heart, he foresees and solves in advance all the difficulties by which +your step-mother will no doubt embarrass you hereafter. This letter is +too precious to be intrusted to the mail, I shall, therefore, get myself +introduced at your father’s house before the end of the week, and I +shall have the honor to put that letter into your own hands.” + + +And again,-- + + +“I shall have an opportunity, tomorrow, to send Daniel news from here. +If you wish to write to him, send me your letter to-day, Rue Laffitte, +No. 62, and I will enclose it in mine.” + + +Finally, there came a postscript in these words,-- + + +“Mistrust, above all, M. Thomas Elgin.” + + +This last recommendation caused Henrietta particular trouble, and made +her feel all kinds of vague and terrible apprehensions. + +“Why should I mistrust him,” she said to herself, “more than the +others?” + +But a more pleasing anxiety soon came to her assistance. What? Here +was an opportunity to send Daniel news promptly and safely, and she was +running the risk, by her delays, of losing the chance? She hastened to +dress; and, sitting down before her little writing-table, she went to +work communicating to her only friend on earth all her sufferings since +he had so suddenly left her, her griefs, her resentments, her hopes. + +It was eleven o’clock when she had finished, having filled eight large +pages with all she felt in her heart. As she was about to rise, she +suddenly felt ill. Her knees gave way under her, and she felt as if +every thing was trembling around her. What could this mean? she thought. +And now only she remembered that she had eaten nothing since the day +before. + +“I must not starve myself,” she said almost merrily to herself. Her long +chat with Daniel had evidently rekindled her hopes. + +She rang the bell; and, when her maid appeared, she said,-- + +“Bring me some breakfast!” + +Miss Ville-Handry occupied three rooms. The first, her sitting-room, +opened upon the hall; on the right was her bed-chamber; and on the left +a boudoir with her piano, her music, and her books. When Henrietta took +her meals up stairs, which of late had happened quite often, she ate in +the sitting-room. + +She had gone in there, and was clearing the table of the albums and +little trifles which were lying about, so as to hasten matters, when the +maid reappeared with empty hands. + +“Ah, miss!” + +“Well?” + +“The count has given orders not to take any thing up stairs.” + +“That cannot be.” + +But a mocking voice from without interrupted her, saying,-- + +“It is so!” + +And immediately Count Ville-Handry appeared, already dressed, curled, +and painted, bearing the appearance of a man who is about to enjoy his +revenge. + +“Leave us!” he said to the maid-servant. + +And, as soon as Clarissa had left the room, he turned to Henrietta with +these words,-- + +“Yes, indeed, my dear Henrietta, I have given strict orders not to bring +you up any thing to eat. Why should you indulge such fancies? I ask you. +Are you unwell? If you are, we will send for the doctor. If not, you +will do me the favor to come down and take your meals in the dining-room +with the family,--with the countess and myself, M. Elgin and Mrs. +Brian.” + +“But, father!” + +“There is no father who could stand this. The time of weakness is +past, and so is the time of passion; therefore, you will come down. Oh! +whenever you feel disposed. You will, perhaps, pout a day, maybe two +days; but hunger drives the wolf into the village; and on the third day +we shall see you come down as soon as the bell rings. I have in vain +appealed to your heart; you see I am forced to appeal to your stomach.” + +Whatever efforts Henrietta might make to remain impassive, the tears +would come into her eyes,--tears of shame and humiliation. Could this +idea of starving her into obedience have originated with her father? No, +he would never have thought of it! It was evidently a woman’s thought, +and the result of bitter, savage hate. + +Still the poor girl felt that she was caught; and her heart revolted at +the ignominy of the means, and the certainty that she would be forced +to yield. Her cruel imagination painted to her at once the exultation of +the new countess, when she, the daughter of Count Ville-Handry, would +appear in the dining-room, brought there by want, by hunger. + +“Father,” she begged, “send me nothing but bread and water, but spare me +that exposure.” + +But, if the count was repeating a lesson, he had learned it well. His +features retained their sardonic expression; and he said in an icy +tone,-- + +“I have told you what I desire. You have heard it, and that is enough.” + +He was turning to leave the room, when his daughter held him back. + +“Father,” she said, “listen to me.” + +“Well, what is it, now?” + +“Yesterday you threatened to shut me up.” + +“Well?” + +“To-day it is I who beseech you to do so. Send me to a convent. However +harsh and strict the rules may be, however sad life may be there, I will +find there some relief for my sorrow, and I will bless you with all my +heart.” + +He only shrugged his shoulders over and over again; then he said,-- + +“A good idea! And from your convent you would at once write to everybody +and everywhere, that my wife had turned you out of the house; that you +had been obliged to escape from threats and bad treatment; you would +repeat all the well-known elegies of the innocent young girl who is +persecuted by a wicked stepmother. Not so, my dear, not so!” + +The breakfast-bell, which was ringing below, interrupted him. + +“You hear, Henrietta,” he said. “Consult your stomach; and, according to +what it tells you, come down, or stay here.” + +He went out, manifestly quite proud at having performed what he called +an act of paternal authority, without vouchsafing a glance at his +daughter, who had sunk back upon a chair; for she felt overcome, the +poor child! by all the agony of her pride. It was all over: she could +struggle no longer. People who would not shrink from such extreme +measures in order to overcome her might resort to the last extremities. +Whatever she could do, sooner or later she would have to succumb. + +Hence--why might she not as well give way at once? She saw clearly, +that, the longer she postponed it, the sweeter would be the victory to +the countess, and the more painful would be the sacrifice to herself. +Arming herself, therefore, with all her energy, she went down into the +dining-room, where the others were already at table. + +She had imagined that her appearance would be greeted by some insulting +remark. Not at all. They seemed hardly to notice her. The countess, who +had been talking, paused to say, “Good-morning, madam!” and then went on +without betraying in her voice the slightest emotion. + +Henrietta had even to acknowledge that they had been considerate. Her +plate had not been put by her mother-in-law. A seat had been kept for +her between Mrs. Brian and M. Elgin. She sat down, and, while eating, +watched stealthily, and with all her powers of observation, these +strangers who were henceforth the masters of her destiny, and whom she +now saw for the first time; for yesterday she had hardly perceived them. + +She was at once struck, painfully struck, with the dazzling, marvellous +beauty of Countess Sarah, although she had been shown her photograph by +her father, and ought thus to have been prepared. It was evident that +the young countess had barely taken time to put on a wrapper before +coming down to breakfast. Her complexion was more animated than usually. +She exhibited all the touching confusion of a young bride, and was +constantly more or less embarrassed. + +Henrietta comprehended but too well the influence such a woman was +likely to have over an old man who had fallen in love with her. It made +her tremble. But grim Mrs. Brian appeared to her hardly less formidable. +She could read nothing in her dull, heavy eye but cold wickedness; +nothing in her lean, yellow face but an implacable will; all the +wrinkles seemed to be permanently graven in wax. + +She thought, after all, the least to be feared was tall, stiff M. +Thomas Elgin. Seated by her, he had shown her discreetly some little +attentions; and, when she observed him more closely, she discovered in +his eyes something like commiseration. + +“And yet,” she thought, “it was against him that M. de Brevan warned me +particularly.” + +But breakfast was over. Henrietta rose, and having bowed, without saying +a word, was going back to her room when she met on the stairs some +of the servants, who were carrying a heavy wardrobe. Upon inquiry she +learned that, as Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian were hereafter to live in the +palace, they were bringing up their furniture. + +She shook her head sadly; but in her rooms a greater surprise was +awaiting her. Three servants were hard at work taking down her +furniture, under the direction of M. Ernest, the count’s valet. + +“What are you doing there?” she asked, and “Who has permitted you?” + +“We are only obeying the orders of the count, your father,” replied M. +Ernest. “We are getting your rooms ready for Madam Brian.” + +And, turning round to his colleagues, he said,-- + +“Go on, men! Take out that sofa; now!” + +Overcome with surprise, Henrietta remained petrified where she was, +looking at the servants as they went on with their work. What? These +eager adventurers had taken possession of the palace, they invaded it, +they reigned here absolutely, and that was not enough for them! They +meant to take from her even the rooms she had occupied, she, the +daughter of their dupe, the only heiress of Count Ville-Handry! This +impudence seemed to her so monstrous, that unable to believe it, and +yielding to a sudden impulse, she went back to the dining-room, and, +addressing her father, said to him,-- + +“Is it really true, father, that you have ordered my furniture to be +removed?” + +“Yes, I have done so, my daughter. My architect will transform your +three rooms into a large reception-room for Mrs. Brian, who had not +space enough for”-- + +The young countess made a gesture of displeasure. + +“I cannot understand,” she said, “how Aunt Brian can accept that.” + +“I beg your pardon,” exclaimed the admirable lady, “this is done +entirely without my consent.” + +But the count interposed, saying,-- + +“Sarah, my darling, permit me to be sole judge in all the arrangements +that concern my daughter.” + +Count Ville-Handry’s accent was so firm as he said this, that one would +have sworn the idea of dislodging Henrietta had sprung from his own +brains. He went on,-- + +“I never act thoughtlessly, and always take time to mature my decisions. +In this case I act from motives of the most ordinary propriety. Mrs. +Brian is no longer young; my daughter is a mere child. If one of the +two has to submit to some slight inconvenience, it is certainly my +daughter.” + +All of a sudden M. Elgin rose. + +“I should leave,” he began. + +Unfortunately the rest of the phrase was lost in an indistinct murmur. + +He was no doubt at that moment recalling a promise he had made. And +resolved not to interfere in the count’s family affairs, and, on the +other hand, indignant at what he considered an odious abuse of power, +he left the room abruptly. His looks, his physiognomy, his gestures, all +betrayed these sentiments so clearly, that Henrietta was quite touched. + +But Count Ville-Handry continued, after a moment’s surprise, saying,-- + +“Therefore, my daughter will hereafter live in the rooms formerly +occupied by the companion of my--I mean of her mother. They are small, +but more than sufficient for her. Besides, they have this advantage, +that they can be easily overlooked from one of our own rooms, my dear +Sarah; and that is important when we have to deal with an imprudent +girl, who has so sadly abused the liberty which she enjoyed, thanks to +my blind confidence.” + +What should she say? What could she reply? + +If she had been alone with her father, she would certainly have defended +herself; she would have tried to make him reconsider his decision; she +would have besought him; she might have gone on her knees to him. + +But here, in the presence of these two women, with the mocking eye of +Countess Sarah upon her, it was impossible! Ah! she would have died a +thousand times over rather than to give these miserable adventurers the +joy and the satisfaction of a new humiliation. + +“Let them crush me,” she said to herself; “they shall never hear me +complain, or cry for mercy.” + +And when her father, who had been quietly watching her, asked,-- + +“Well?” + +“You shall be obeyed this very night,” she replied. + +And by a kind of miracle of energy, she went out of the room calmly, her +head on high; without having shed a tear. + +But God knew what she suffered. + +To give up those little rooms in which she had spent so many happy +hours, where every thing recalled to her sweet memories, certainly that +was no small grief: it was nothing however, in comparison with that +frightful perspective of having to live under the wary eye of Countess +Sarah, under lock and key. + +They would not even leave her at liberty to weep. Her intolerable +sufferings would not extort a sigh from her that the countess did not +hear on the other side of the partition, and delight in. + +She was thus harassing herself, when she suddenly remembered the letter +which she had written to Daniel. If M. de Brevan was to have it that +same day, there was not a moment to lose. Already it was too late for +the mail; and she would have to send it by a commissionaire. + +She rang the bell, therefore, for Clarissa, her confidante, for the +purpose of sending it to the Rue Laffitte. But, instead of Clarissa, one +of the housemaids appeared, and said,-- + +“Your own maid is not in the house. Mrs. Brian has sent her to Circus +Street. If I can do any thing for you”-- + +“No, I thank you!” replied Henrietta. + +It seemed, then, that she counted for nothing any more in the house. +She was not allowed to eat in her rooms; she was turned out of her own +rooms; and the maid, long attached to her service, was taken from her. +And here she was forced to submit to such humiliations without a chance +of rebelling. + +But time was passing; and every minute made it more difficult to let M. +de Brevan have her letter in time for the mail. + +“Well,” said Henrietta to herself, “I will carry it myself.” + +And although she had, perhaps, in all her life not been more than twice +alone in the street, she put on her bonnet, wrapped herself up in a +cloak, and went down swiftly. + +The concierge, a large man, very proud of his richly laced livery, +was sitting before the little pavilion in which he lived, smoking, and +reading his paper. + +“Open the gates!” said Henrietta. + +But the man, without taking his pipe out of his mouth, without even +getting up from his seat, answered in a surly tone,-- + +“The count has sent me orders never to let you go out without a verbal +or written permission; so that”-- + +“Impudence!” exclaimed Henrietta. + +And resolutely she went up to the ponderous gates of the court-yard, +stretching out her hand to pull the bolt. But the man, divining her +intention, and quicker than she, had rushed up to the gate, and, crying +out as loud as he could, he exclaimed,-- + +“Miss, miss! Stop! I have my orders, and I shall lose my place.” + +At his cries a dozen servants who were standing idly about in the +stables, the vestibule, and the inner court, came running up. Then Sir +Thorn appeared, ready to go out on horseback, and finally the count +himself. + +“What do you want? What are you doing there?” he asked his daughter. + +“You see, I want to go out.” + +“Alone?” laughed the count. Then he continued harshly, pointing at the +concierge,-- + +“This man would be instantly dismissed if he allowed you to leave the +house alone. Oh, you need not look at me that way! Hereafter you will +only go out when, and with whom, it pleases me. And do not hope to +escape my watchful observation. I have foreseen every thing. The little +gate to which you had a key has been nailed up. And, if ever a man +should dare to steal into the garden, the gardeners have orders to shoot +him down like a dog, whether it be the man with whom I caught you the +other day, or some one else.” + +Under this mean and cowardly insult Henrietta staggered; but, +immediately collecting herself, she exclaimed,-- + +“Great God! Am I delirious? Father, are you aware of what you are +saying?” + +And, as the suppressed laughter of the servants reached her, she added +with--almost convulsive vehemence,-- + +“At least, say who the man was with whom I was in the garden, so +that all, all may hear his name. Tell them that it was M. Daniel +Champcey,--he whom my sainted mother had chosen for me among all,--he +whom for long years you have daily received at your house, to whom you +have solemnly promised my hand, who was my betrothed, and who would now +be my husband, if we had chosen to approve of your unfortunate marriage. +Tell them that it was M. Daniel Champcey, whom you had sent off the day +before, and whom a crime, a forgery committed by your Sarah, forced to +go to sea; for he had to be put out of the way at any _hazard_. As +long as he was in Paris, you would never have dared treat me as I am +treated.” + +Overcome by this unexpected violence, the count could only stammer out +a few incoherent words. Henrietta was about to go on, when she felt +herself taken by the arm, and gently but irresistibly taken up to the +house. It was Sir Thorn, who tried to save her from her own excitement. +She looked at him; a big tear was slowly rolling down the cheek of the +impassive gentleman. + +Then, when he had led her as far as the staircase, and she had laid hold +of the balusters, he said,-- + +“Poor girl!” + +And went away with rapid steps. + +Yes, “poor girl” indeed! + +Her resolve was giving way under all these terrible blows; and seized +with a kind of vertigo, out of breath, and almost beside herself, she +had rushed up the steps, feeling as if she still heard the abominable +accusations of her father, and the laughter of the servants. + +“O God,” she sobbed, “have pity on me!” + +She felt in her heart that she had no hope left now but God, delivered +up as she was to pitiless adversaries, sacrificed to the implacable +hatred of a stepmother, abandoned by all, and betrayed and openly +renounced by her own father. + +Hour by hour she had seen how, by an incomprehensible combination of +fatal circumstances, the infernal circle narrowed down, within which she +was wretchedly struggling, and which soon would crush her effectually. +What did they want of her? Why did they try every thing to exasperate +her to the utmost? Did they expect some catastrophe to result from her +despair? + +Unfortunately, she did not examine this question carefully, too +inexperienced as she was to suspect the subtle cunning of people whose +wickedness would have astonished a criminal judge. Ah, how useful one +word from Daniel would have been to her at this crisis! But, trembling +with anguish for his betrothed, the unhappy man had not dared repeat +to her the terrible words which had escaped M. de Brevan, in his first +moment of expansion,-- + +“Miss Brandon leaves the dagger and the poisoned cup to fools, as too +coarse and too dangerous means to get rid of people. She has safer +means to suppress those who are in her way--means which justice never +discovers.” + +Lost in sombre reflections, the poor girl was forgetting the hour, +and did not notice that it had become dark already, when she heard the +dinner-bell ring. She was free not to go down; but she revolted at the +idea that the Countess Sarah might think her overcome. So she said to +herself,-- + +“No. She shall never know how much I suffer!” + +Ringing, then, for Clarissa, who had come back, she said,-- + +“Come, quick, dress me!” + +And in less than five minutes she had arranged her beautiful hair, and +put on one of her most becoming dresses. While changing her dress, she +noticed the rustling of paper. + +“Ah!” she said to herself, “my letter to Daniel. I had forgotten it.” + +Was it already too late to send it to M. de Brevan? Probably it was. But +why might she not try, at least? So she gave it to Clarissa, saying,-- + +“You will take a cab, and take this letter immediately to M. de Brevan, +Rue Laffitte, No. 62. If he is out, you will leave it, telling the +people to be sure to give it to him as soon as he comes in. You can find +some excuse, if they should ask you why you are going out. Be discreet.” + +She herself went down stairs, so determined to conceal her emotion, that +she actually had a smile on her lips as she entered the dining-room. +The fever that devoured her gave to her features unwonted animation, +and to her eyes a strange brilliancy. Her beauty, ordinarily a little +impaired, shone forth once more in amazing splendor, so as to eclipse +almost that of the countess. + +Even Count Ville-Handry was struck by it, and exclaimed, glancing at his +young wife,-- + +“Oh, oh!” + +Otherwise, this was the only notice which was taken of Henrietta. After +that, no one seemed to mind her presence, except M. Elgin, whose eye +softened whenever he looked at her. But what was that to her? Affecting +a composure which she was far from possessing, she made an effort to +eat, when a servant entered, and very respectfully whispered a few words +in the ear of the countess. + +“Very well,” she said; “I’ll be there directly.” + +And, without vouchsafing an explanation, she left the table, and +remained perhaps ten minutes away. + +“What was it?” asked Count Ville-Handry, with an accent of tenderest +interest, when his young wife reappeared. + +“Nothing, my dear,” she replied, as she took her seat again,--“nothing, +some orders to give.” + +Still Henrietta thought she noticed under this apparent indifference of +her step-mother an expression of cruel satisfaction. More than that, she +fancied she saw the countess and Mrs. Brian rapidly exchange looks, one +saying, “Well,” and the other answering, “All right.” + +The poor girl, prejudiced as she was, felt as if she had been stabbed +once more to the heart. + +“These wretches,” she thought, “have prepared another insult for me.” + +This suspicion took so powerfully hold of her, that when dinner was +over, instead of returning to her rooms, she followed her father and his +new “friends” into the sitting-room. Count Ville-Handry spoke of Mrs. +Brian and M. Elgin always as “the family.” + +They did not long remain alone. The count and his young wife had +probably let it be known that they would be at home that evening; and +soon a number of visitors came in, some of them old friends of the +family, but the great majority intimates from Circus Street. Henrietta +was too busy watching her stepmother to notice how eagerly she herself +was examined, what glances they cast at her, and how careful the married +ladies, as well as the young girls, were to leave her alone. It required +a brutal scene to open her mind to the truth, and to bring her thoughts +back to the horrible reality of her situation. That scene came but too +soon. + +As the visitors increased, the conversation had ceased to be general, +and groups had formed; so that two ladies came to sit down close by +Henrietta. They were apparently friends of the young countess, for she +did not know them, and one of them had a strong foreign accent. They +were talking. Instinctively Henrietta listened. + +“Why did you not bring your daughter?” asked one of them. + +“How could I?” replied the other. “I would not bring her here for the +world. Don’t you know what kind of a woman the count’s daughter is? It +is incredible, and almost too scandalous. On the day of her father’s +marriage she ran away with somebody, by the aid of a servant, who has +since been dismissed; and they had to get the police to help them bring +her back. If it had not been for our dear Sarah, who is goodness itself, +they would have sent her to a house of correction.” + +A stifled cry interrupted them. They looked round. Henrietta had +suddenly been taken ill, and had fallen to the ground. Instantly, and +with one impulse, everybody was up. But the honorable M. Elgin had been +ahead of them all, and had rushed up with such surprising promptness at +the very moment when the accident happened, that it almost looked as if +he had had a presentiment, and was watching for the precise time when +his assistance would be needed. + +Raising Henrietta with a powerful arm, he laid her on a sofa, not +forgetting to slip a cushion under her head. Immediately the countess +and the other ladies crowded around the fainting girl, rubbing the palms +of her hands, moistening her temples with aromatic vinegar and cologne, +and holding bottles of salts persistently to her nostrils. + +Still all efforts to bring her to remained sterile; and this was so +extraordinary, that even Count Ville-Handry began to be moved, although +at first he had been heard to exclaim,-- + +“Pshaw! Leave her alone. It is nothing.” + +The mad passion of senile love had not yet entirely extinguished in him +the instincts of a father; and anxiety rekindled the affection he had +formerly felt for his child. He rushed, therefore, to the vestibule, +calling out to the servants who were there on duty,-- + +“Quick! Let some one run for the doctor; never mind which,--the +nearest!” + +This acted as a signal for the guests to scatter at once. Finding +that this fainting-fit lasted too long, and fearing perhaps a fatal +termination, a painful scene, and tears, they slyly slipped out, one by +one, and escaped. + +In this way the countess, Mrs. Brian, M. Elgin, and the unhappy father +found themselves soon once more alone with poor Henrietta, who was still +unconscious. + +“We ought not to leave her here,” said Countess Sarah; “she will be +better in her bed.” + +“Yes, that is true, you are right!” replied the count. “I shall have her +carried to her room.” + +And he was stretching out his hand to pull the bell, when Sir Thorn +stopped him, saying in a voice of deep emotion,-- + +“Never mind, count. I’ll carry her myself.” + +And, without waiting for an answer, he took her up like a feather, and +carried her to her room, followed by Count Ville-Handry, and his young +wife. He could, of course, not remain in Henrietta’s room; but it looked +as if he could not tear himself away. For some time the servants, quite +amazed, saw him walk up and down the passage with feverish steps, +and, in spite of his usual impassiveness, giving all the signs of +extraordinary excitement. Every ten minutes he paused in his walk to ask +at the door, with a voice full of anxiety,-- + +“Well?” + +“She is still in the same condition,” was the answer. + +In the meantime two physicians had arrived, but without obtaining any +better results than the countess and her friends. They had exhausted +all the usual remedies for such cases, and began, evidently, to be not +a little surprised at the persistency of the symptoms. Nor could Count +Ville-Handry suppress his growing anxiety as he saw them consulting in +the recess of one of the windows, discussing more energetic means to +be employed. At last, toward midnight, Sir Thorn saw the young countess +come out of Henrietta’s room. + +“How is she?” he cried out. + +Then the countess said, speaking very loud, so as to be heard by the +servants,-- + +“She is coming to; and that is why I am leaving her. She dislikes me so +terribly, that poor unhappy child, that I fear my presence might do her +harm.” + +Henrietta had indeed recovered her consciousness. First had come a +shiver running over her whole body; then she had tried painfully and +repeatedly to raise herself on her pillows, looking around,-- + +Evidently she did not remember what had happened, and mechanically +passed her hand to and fro over her brow, as if to brush away the dark +veil that was hanging over her mind, looking with haggard eyes at the +doctors, at her father, and at her confidante, Clarissa, who knelt by +her bedside, weeping. + +At last, when, all of a sudden, the horrid reality broke upon her mind, +she threw herself back, and cried out,-- + +“O God!” + +But she was saved; and the doctors soon withdrew, declaring that +there was nothing to apprehend now, provided their prescriptions were +carefully observed. The count then came up to his daughter, and, taking +her hands, asked her,-- + +“Come, child. What has happened? What was the matter?” + +She looked upon him in utter despair, and then said in a low voice,-- + +“Nothing! only you have ruined me, father.” + +“How, how?” said the count. “What do you mean?” + +And very much embarrassed, perhaps angry against himself, and trying to +find an excuse for what he had done, he added, simpering,-- + +“Is it not your own fault? Why do you treat Sarah so badly, and do all +you can to exasperate me?” + +“Yes, you are right. It is my fault,” murmured Henrietta. + +She said it in a tone of bitter irony now; but afterwards, when she was +alone, and more quiet, reflecting in the silence of the night, she had +to acknowledge, and confess to herself, that it was so. The scandal by +which she had intended to crush her step-mother had fallen back upon +herself, and crushed her. + +Still, the next morning she was a little better; and, in spite of all +that Clarissa could say, she would get up, and go down stairs, for all +her hopes henceforth depended on that letter written by Daniel. She had +been waiting day after day for M. de Brevan, who was to bring it to her; +and for nothing in the world would she have been absent when he came at +last. + +But she waited for him in vain that day, and four days after. + +Attributing his tardiness to some new misfortune, she thought of writing +to him, when at last, on Tuesday,--the day which the countess had chosen +for her reception-day,--but not until the room was already quite full of +company, the servant announced,--“M. Palmer, M. de Brevan!” + +Seized with most violent emotions, Henrietta turned round suddenly, +casting upon the door one of those glances in which a whole soul is +read at once. At last she was to know him whom her Daniel had called his +second self. Two men entered: one, quite old, had gray hair, and looked +as grave and solemn as a member of parliament; the other, who might be +thirty or thirty-five years old, looked cold and haughty, having thin +lips and a sardonic smile. + +“That is the man!” said Henrietta to herself; “that is Daniel’s friend!” + +At first she disliked him excessively. Upon examining him more closely, +she thought his composure affected, and his whole appearance lacking +in frankness. But she never thought for a moment of distrusting M. de +Brevan. Daniel had blindly recommended him to her; and that was enough. +She had been too severely punished when she tried to follow her own +inspirations, ever to think of repeating the experiment. + +Still she kept him in view. After having been presented to the Countess +Sarah and her husband, he had thrown himself into the crowd, and +managed, after a while, to get near to her. He went from one group to +another, throwing a word to each one, gaining thus, insensibly, and +without affectation, a small chair, which was vacant, by the side of +Henrietta. + +And the air of perfect indifference with which he took possession of it +would have made you think he had fully measured the danger of risking +a confidential talk with a young lady under the eyes of fifty or sixty +persons. He commenced with some of those set phrases which furnish the +currency of society, speaking loud enough to be heard by the neighbors, +and to satisfy their curiosity, if they should have a fancy for +listening. As he noticed that Henrietta had turned very red, and looked +overcome, while fixing most anxiously her eyes upon him, he even said,-- + +“I pray you, madam, affect a little more indifference. Smile; we may be +watched. Remember that we must not know each other; that we are perfect +strangers to each other.” + +Then he began in a very loud voice to sing the praise of the last new +play that had been performed, until finally, thinking that he had put +all suspicions asleep, he drew a little nearer, and, casting down his +eyes, he said,-- + +“It is useless to tell you, madam, that I am M. de Brevan.” + +“I heard your name announced, sir,” replied Henrietta in the same way. + +“I have taken the liberty of writing to you, madam, under cover to your +maid Clarissa, according to Daniel’s orders; but I hope you will pardon +me.” + +“I have nothing to pardon, sir, but to thank you very much, from the +bottom of my heart, for your generous devotion.” + +No man is perfect. A passing blush colored the cheeks of M. de Brevan; +he had to cough a little; and once or twice passed his hand between his +collar and his neck, as if he felt troubled in his throat. + +“You must have thought,” continued Henrietta, “that I was not in +great haste to avail myself of your kind offer; but--there were +difficulties--in my way”-- + +“Oh, yes! I know,” broke in M. de Brevan, sadly shaking his head; “your +maid has told me. For she found me at home, as no doubt you have heard; +and your letter arrived just in time to be sent on with mine. They will +gain a fortnight in this way; for the mail for Cochin China does not +leave more than once a month,--on the _26th_.” + +But he paused suddenly, or rather raised his voice to resume his account +of the new drama. Two young ladies had stopped just before them. As soon +as they were gone, he went on,-- + +“I bring you, madam, Daniel’s letter.” + +“Ah!” + +“I have folded it up very small, and I have it here in my hand; if you +will let your handkerchief fall, I’ll slip it into it as I pick it up.” + +The trick was not new; but it was also not very difficult. Still +Henrietta did it awkwardly enough. Her letting the handkerchief fall +looked any thing but natural; and, when she took it back again, she was +all eagerness. Then, when she felt the crisp paper under the folds of +the linen, she became all crimson in her face. Fortunately, M. de Brevan +had the presence of mind to rise suddenly, and to move his chair so as +to help her in concealing her embarrassment. Then, when he saw her +calm again, he sat down once more, and went on, with an accent of deep +interest,-- + +“Now, madam, permit me to inquire after your position here.” + +“It is terrible.” + +“Do they harass you?” + +“Oh, fearfully!” + +“No doubt, your step-mother?” + +“Alas! who else would do it? But she dissembles, veiling her malignity +under the most affected gentleness. In appearance she is all kindness +to me. And my poor father becomes a willing instrument in her hands,--my +poor father, formerly so kind, and so fond of me!” + +She was deeply moved; and M. de Brevan saw the tears starting in her +eyes. Quite frightened, he said,-- + +“Madam, for Heaven’s sake control yourself!” + +And, anxious to turn Henrietta’s thoughts from her father, he asked,-- + +“How is Mrs. Brian to you?” + +“She always takes sides against me.” + +“Naturally. And Sir Thorn?” + +“You wrote me that I should mistrust him particularly, and so I do; but, +I must confess, he alone seems to be touched by my misfortunes.” + +“Ah! that is the very reason why you ought to fear him.” + +“How so?” + +M. de Brevan hesitated, and then answered, speaking very rapidly, and +after having looked around cautiously,-- + +“Because M. Elgin might very well cherish a hope of replacing Daniel in +your heart, and of becoming your husband.” + +“Great God!” exclaimed Henrietta, sinking back in her chair with an +expression of horror. “Is it possible?” + +“I am quite sure of it,” replied M. Brevan. + +And, as if he had been frightened himself by what he had said, he +added,-- + +“Yes, I am quite sure. I have read the heart of that man; and before +long you will have some terrible evidence of his intentions. But I pray, +madam, let this remain a secret between us, to be kept religiously. +Never allow yourself the slightest allusion.” + +“What can I do?” murmured the poor girl, “what can I do? You alone, sir, +can advise me.” + +For some time M. de Brevan continued silent; then he said in a very sad +voice,-- + +“My experience, madam, supplies me with but one advice,--be patient; say +little; do as little as possible; and endeavor to appear insensible to +their insults. I would say to you, if you will excuse the triviality +of the comparison, imitate those feeble insects who simulate death when +they are touched. They are defenceless; and that is their only chance of +escape.” + +He had risen; and, while bowing deeply before Henrietta, he added,-- + +“I must also warn you, madam, not to be surprised if you see me doing +every thing in my power for the purpose of winning the good-will of +your step-mother. Believe me, if I tell you that such duplicity is +very distasteful to my character. But I have no other way to obtain the +privilege of coming here frequently, of seeing you, and of being useful +to you, as I have promised your friend Daniel.” + + + + +XV. + +During the last visits which Daniel had paid to Henrietta, he had not +concealed from her the fact that Maxime de Brevan had formerly been +quite intimate with Sarah Brandon and her friends. But still, in +explaining his reasons for trying to renew these relations, M. de Brevan +had acted with his usual diplomacy. + +But for this, she might have conceived some vague suspicions when she +saw him, soon after he had left her, enter into a long conversation +with the countess, then speak with Sir Thorn, and finally chat most +confidentially with austere Mrs. Brian. But now, if she noticed it all, +she was not surprised. Her mind was, in fact, thousands of miles away. +She thought only of that letter which she had in her pocket, and which +was burning her fingers, so to say. She could think of nothing else. + +What would she not have given for the right to run away and read it at +once? But adversity was teaching her gradually circumspection; and she +felt it would be unwise to leave the room before the last guests had +departed. Thus it was past two o’clock in the morning before she could +open the precious letter, after having dismissed her faithful Clarissa. + +Alas! she did not find what she had hoped for,--advice, or, better than +that, directions how she should conduct herself. The fact is, that +in his terrible distress, Daniel no longer was sufficiently master of +himself to look calmly at the future, and to weigh the probabilities. In +his despair he had filled three pages with assurances of his love, with +promises that his last thoughts would be for her, and with prayers +that she would not forget him. There were hardly twenty lines left for +recommendations, which ought to have contained the most precise and +minute details. + +All his suggestions, moreover, amounted to this,--arm yourself with +patience and resignation till my return. Do not leave your father’s +house unless in the last extremity, in case of pressing danger, and +under no circumstances without first consulting Maxime. + +And to fill up the measure, from excessive delicacy, and fearing to +wound his friend’s oversensitive feelings, Daniel had omitted to inform +Henrietta of certain most important circumstances. Thus he only told +her, that, if flight became her only means of escape from actual +danger, she need not hesitate from pecuniary considerations; that he had +foreseen every thing, and made the needful preparations. + +How could she guess from this, that the unlucky man, carried away and +blinded by passion, had intrusted fifty or sixty thousand dollars, his +entire fortune, to his friend Maxime? Still the two friends agreed too +fully on the same opinion to allow her to hesitate. Thus, when she fell +asleep, she had formed a decision. She had vowed to herself that she +would meet all the torments they might inflict upon her, with the +stoicism of the Indian who is bound to the stake, and to be, among +her enemies, like a dead person, whom no insult can galvanize into the +semblance of life. + +During the following weeks it was not so difficult for her to keep +her promises. Whether it were weariness or calculation, they seemed to +forget her. Except at meals, they took no more notice of her than if she +had not been in existence. + +That sudden access of affection which had moved Count Ville-Handry +on that evening when he thought his daughter in danger had long since +passed away. He only honored her with ironical glances, and never +addressed a word to her. The countess observed a kind of affectionate +reserve, like a well-disposed person who has seen all her advances +repelled, and who is hurt, but quite ready to be friends at the first +sign. Mrs. Brian never opened her thin lips but to growl out some +unpleasant remark, of which a single word was intelligible: shocking! +There remained the Hon. M. Elgin, whose sympathetic pity showed itself +daily more clearly. But, since Maxime’s warning, Henrietta avoided him +anxiously. + +She was thus leading a truly wretched life in this magnificent palace, +in which she was kept a prisoner by her father’s orders; for such she +was; she could no longer disguise it from herself. She felt at every +moment that she was watched, and overlooked most jealously, even when +they seemed to forget her most completely. The great gates, formerly +almost always open, were now kept carefully closed; and, when they were +opened to admit a carriage, the concierge mounted guard before them, as +if he were the keeper of a jail. The little garden-gate had been secured +by two additional enormous locks; and whenever Henrietta, during her +walks in the garden, came near it, she saw one of the gardeners watch +her with anxious eyes. They were apparently afraid, not only that she +might escape, but that she might keep up secret communications with +the outer world. She wanted to be clear about that; and one morning she +asked her father’s permission to send to the Duchess of Champdoce, +and beg her to come and spend the day with her. But Count Ville-Handry +brutally replied that he did not want to see the Duchess of Champdoce; +and that, besides, she was not in Paris, as her husband had taken her +south to hasten her recovery. + +On another occasion, toward the end of February, and when several days +of fine spring weather had succeeded each other, the poor child could +not help expressing a desire to go out and breathe a little fresh air. +Her father said, in reply to her request,--“Every day, your mother and +I go out and drive for an hour or two in the Bois de Boulogne. Why don’t +you go with us?” + +She said nothing. She would sooner have allowed herself to be cut to +pieces than to appear in public seated by the side of the young countess +and in the same carriage with her. + +Months passed thus without her having put a foot outside of the palace, +except her daily attendance at mass at eight o’clock on Sunday mornings. +Count Ville-Handry had not dared to refuse her that; but he had added +the most painful and most humiliating conditions. On these occasions M. +Ernest, his valet, accompanied her, with express orders not to let +her speak to any one whatsoever, and to “apprehend” her (this was the +count’s own expression), and to bring her back forcibly, if needs be, if +she should try to escape. + +But in vain they multiplied the insults; they did not extort a single +complaint. Her unalterable patience would have touched ordinary +executioners. And yet she had no other encouragement, no other support, +but what she received from M. de Brevan. + +Faithful to the plan which he had mentioned to her, he had managed so +well as gradually to secure the right to come frequently to the house. +He was on the best terms with Mrs. Brian; and the count invited him +to dinner. At this time Henrietta had entirely overcome her prejudice +against him. She had discovered in M. de Brevan such a respectful +interest in her welfare, such almost womanly delicacy, and so much +prudence and discretion, that she blessed Daniel for having left her +this friend, and counted upon his devotion as upon that of a brother. + +Was it not he, who, on certain evenings, when she was well-nigh overcome +by despair, whispered to her,-- + +“Courage; here is another day gone! Daniel will soon be back!” + +But the more Henrietta was left to the inspirations of solitude, and +compelled to live within herself only, the more she observed all that +was going on around her. And she thought she noticed some very strange +changes. Never would Count Ville-Handry’s first wife have been able to +recognize her reception-rooms. Where was that select society which had +been attracted by her, and which she had fashioned into something like a +court, in which her husband was king? The palace had become, so to say, +the headquarters of that motley society which forms the “Foreign Legion” + of pleasure and of scandal. + +Sarah Brandon, now Countess Ville-Handry, was surrounded by that strange +aristocracy which has risen upon the ruins of old Paris,--a contraband +aristocracy, a dangerous kind of high life, which, by its unheard-of +extravagance and mysterious splendor, dazzles the multitude, and puzzles +the police. + +The young countess did not exactly receive people notoriously tainted. +She was too clever to commit such a blunder; but she bestowed her +sweetest smiles upon all those equivocal Bohemians who represent all +races, and whose revenues come much less from good acres in the broad +sunlight than from the credulity and stupidity of mankind. + +At first Count Ville-Handry had been rather shocked by this new world, +whose manners and customs were unknown to him, and whose language even +he hardly understood. But it had not taken long to acclimatize him. + +He was the firm, the receiver of the fortune, the flag that covers the +merchandise, the master, in fine, although he exercised no authority. +All these titles secured to him the appearance of profound respect; and +all vied with each other in flattering him to the utmost, and paying +him court in the most abject manner. This led him to imagine that he +had recovered the prestige he had enjoyed in former days, thanks to +the skilful management of his first wife; and he assumed a new kind of +grotesque importance commensurate with his revived vanity. + +He had, besides, gone to work once more most industriously. All the +business men who had called upon him before his marriage already +reappeared now, accompanied by that legion of famished speculators, whom +the mere report of a great enterprise attracts, like the flies settling +upon a lump of sugar. The count shut himself up with these men in his +study, and often spent the whole afternoon with them there. + +“Most probably something is going on there,” thought Henrietta. + +She was quite sure of it when she saw her father unhesitatingly give up +the splendid suite of apartments in the lower story of the palace, which +were cut up into an infinite number of small rooms. On the doors there +appeared, one by one, signs not usually found in such houses; as, +“Office,” “Board Room,” “Secretary,” “Cashier’s Room.” + +Then office-furniture appeared in loads,--tables, desks, chairs; then +mountains of huge volumes; and at last two immense safes, as large as a +bachelor’s-lodging. + +Henrietta was seriously alarmed, and knowing beforehand that no one in +the house would answer her questions, she turned to M. de Brevan. In the +most off-hand manner he assured her that he knew nothing about it, but +promised to inquire, and to let her know soon. + +There was no necessity; for one morning, when Henrietta was wandering +about listlessly around the offices, which began to be filled with +clerks, she noticed an immense advertisement on one of the doors. + +She went up to it, and read:-- + + +FRANCO-AMERICAN SOCIETY, + +For the development of Pennsylvania petroleum wells. + +Capital, _Ten Million of Francs._ Twenty Thousand Shares of 500 Francs +each. + +The Charter may be seen at the Office of M. Lilois, N. P. + +_President_, Count Ville-Handry. + +The books for subscription will be opened on the 25th of March. + +principal office, _Palace of Count Ville-Handry, Rue de Varennes_. +branch office, _Rue Lepelletier, No. 1p_. + + +At the foot, in small print, was a full explanation of the enormous +profits which might be expected, the imperative necessity which had led +to the establishment of the Pennsylvania Petroleum Society, the nature +of its proposed operations, the immense services which it would render +to the world at large, and, above all, the immense profits which would +promptly accrue to the stockholders. + +Then there came an account of petroleum or oil wells, in which it +was clearly demonstrated that this admirable product represented, in +comparison with other oils, a saving of more than sixty per cent; +that it gave a light of matchless purity and brilliancy; that it burnt +without odor; and, above all, that, in spite of what might have been +said by interested persons, there was no possible danger of explosion +connected with its use. + +“In less than twenty years,” concluded the report in a strain of lyric +prophecy, “petroleum will have taken the place of all the primitive +and useless illuminating mediums now employed. It will replace, in like +manner, all the coarse and troublesome varieties of fuel of our day. +In less than twenty years the whole world will be lighted and heated by +petroleum; and the oil-wells of Pennsylvania are inexhaustible.” + +A eulogy on the president, Count Ville-Handry, crowned the whole +work,--a very clever eulogy, which called him a man sent by Providence; +and, alluding to his colossal fortune, suggested that, with such a +manager at the head of the enterprise, the shareholders could not +possibly run any risk. + +Henrietta was overwhelmed with surprise. “Ah!” she said to herself, +“this is what Sarah Brandon and her accomplices were aiming at. My +father is ruined!” + +That Count Ville-Handry should risk all he possessed in this terrible +game of speculation was not so surprising to Henrietta. But what +she could not comprehend was this, that he should assume the whole +responsibility of such a hazardous enterprise, and run the terrible +risk of a failure. How could he, with his deeply-rooted aristocratic +prejudices, ever consent to lend his name to an industrial enterprise? + +“It must have cost prodigies of patience and cunning,” she thought, +“to induce him to make such a sacrifice, such a surrender of old and +cherished convictions. They must have worried him terribly, and brought +to bear upon him a fearful pressure.” + +She was, therefore, truly amazed, when, two days afterwards, she became +accidentally a witness to a lively discussion between her father and +the countess on this very subject of the famous placards, which were +now scattered all over Paris and France. The countess seemed to be +distressed by the whole affair, and presented to her husband all the +objections which Henrietta herself would have liked to have urged; +only she did it with all the authority she derived from the count’s +passionate love for her. She did not understand, she said, how her +husband, a nobleman of ancient lineage, could stoop to “making money.” + Had he not enough of it already? Would he be any happier if he had twice +or thrice as many thousands a year? + +He met all these objections with a sweetish smile, like a great artist +who hears an ignoramus criticise his work. And, when the countess +paused, he deigned to explain to her in that emphatic manner which +betrayed his intense conceit, that if he, the representative of the very +oldest nobility, threw himself into the great movement, it was for the +purpose of setting a lofty example. He had no desire for “filthy lucre,” + he assured her; he only desired to render his country a great service. + +“Too dangerous a service!” replied the countess. “If you succeed, as you +hope, who will thank you for it? No one. More than that, if you speak +to them of disinterestedness, they will laugh in your face. If the thing +fails, on the other hand, who is to pay? You. And they will call you a +dunce into the bargain.” + +Count Ville-Handry shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly; and then +he said, taking his wife by the hand,-- + +“Would you love me less if I were ruined?” + +She looked at him with her beautiful eyes as if overflowing with +affection, and replied in a voice full of emotion,-- + +“God is my witness, my friend, that I should be delighted to be able to +prove to you that I did not think of money when I married you.” + +“Sarah!” cried the count in ecstasy, “Sarah, my darling, that was a word +worth the whole of that fortune which you blame me for risking.” + +Even if Henrietta had been more disposed to mistrust appearances, +she would never have supposed that the whole scene was most cunningly +devised for the purpose of impressing upon the count’s feeble intellect +this idea more forcibly than ever. She was rather inclined to believe, +and she did believe, that this Petroleum Society, conceived by Sir +Thorn, was unpleasant to the countess; and that thus discord reigned in +the enemy’s camp. + +The result of her meditations was a long letter to a gentleman for whom +her mother had always entertained a great esteem, the Duke of Champdoce. +After having explained to him her situation, she told him all that she +knew of the new enterprise, and besought him to interfere whilst it was +yet time. + +When she had written her letter, she gave it to Clarissa, urging her +to carry it immediately to its address. Alas! the poor girl was rapidly +approaching an incident which was to bring about a crisis. + +Having by chance followed the maid down stairs, she saw her go into the +Countess Sarah’s room, and hand her the letter. + +Was Henrietta thus betrayed even by the girl whom she thought so fully +devoted to her interests, and since when? Perhaps from the first +day. Ah, how many things this explained to her which she had hitherto +wondered at as perfectly incomprehensible! + +This last infamy, however, tempted her to lay aside for once her +carefully-nursed reserve. She rushed into the room, crimson with shame +and wrath, and said in a fierce tone,-- + +“Give me that letter, madam!” + +Clarissa had fled when she saw her treachery discovered. + +“This letter,” replied the countess coldly, “I shall hand to your +father, madam, as it is my duty to do.” + +“Ah, take care, madam!” broke in the poor girl with a threatening +gesture; “take care! My patience has its limits.” + +Her attitude and her accent were so terrible, that the countess thought +it prudent to put a table between herself and her victim. But suddenly +a great revolution had taken place in Henrietta’s heart. She said +roughly,-- + +“Look here, madam, let us have an explanation while we are alone. What +do you want me to do?” + +“Nothing, I assure you.” + +“Nothing? Who is it, then, that has meanly slandered me, has robbed me +of my father’s affection, surrounds me with spies, and overwhelms me +with insults? Who forces me to lead this wretched life to which I am +condemned?” + +The countess showed in her features how deeply she was reflecting. She +was evidently calculating the effect of a new plan. + +“You will have it so,” she replied resolutely. “Very well, then, I will +be frank with you. Yes, I am bent on ruining you. Why? You know it as +well as I do. I will ask you, in my turn, who is it that has done +every thing that could possibly be done to prevent my marriage? Who has +endeavored to crush me? Who would like to drive me from this house like +an infamous person? Is it not you, always you? Yes, you are right. I +hate you; I hate you unto death, and I avenge myself!” + +“Madam!” + +“Wait! What had I done to you before my marriage? Nothing. You did not +even know me by name. They came and told you atrocious stories invented +by my enemies, and you believed them. Your father told you, ‘They are +wicked libels.’ What did you answer? That ‘those only are libelled who +deserve it.’ I wanted to prove to you that it is not so. You are the +purest and chastest of girls whom I know; are you not? Very well. I defy +you to find a single person around you who does not believe that you +have had lovers.” + +Extreme situations have this peculiarity, that the principal actors may +be agitated by the most furious passions, and still outwardly preserve +the greatest calmness. Thus these two women, who were burning with +mortal hatred, spoke with an almost calm voice. + +“And you think, madam,” resumed Henrietta, “that sufferings like mine +can be long continued?” + +“They will be continued till it pleases me to make an end to them.” + +“Or till I come of age.” + +The countess made a great effort to conceal her surprise. + +“Oh!” she said to herself. “Oh, oh!” + +“Or,” continued the young girl, “till he returns whom you have taken +from me, my betrothed, M. Daniel Champcey.” + +“Stop, madam. You are mistaken. It was not I who sent Daniel away.” + +Daniel! the countess said so; said familiarly, Daniel! Had she any right +to do so? How? Whence this extraordinary impudence? + +Still Henrietta saw in it only a new insult; no suspicion entered her +soul, and she replied in the most ironical tone,-- + +“Then it was not you who sent that petition to the secretary of the +navy? It was not you who ordered and paid for that forged document which +caused M. Champcey to be ordered abroad?” + +“No; and I told him so myself, the day before he left, in his own room.” + +Henrietta was stunned. What? This woman had gone to see Daniel? Was this +true? It was not even plausible. + +“In his room?” she repeated,--“in his room?” + +“Why, yes, in University Street. I foresaw that trick which I could +not prevent, and I wished to prevent it. I had a thousand reasons for +wishing ardently that he should remain in Paris.” + +“A thousand reasons? You? Tell me only one!” + +The countess courtesied, as if excusing herself for being forced to tell +the truth against her inclination, and added simply,-- + +“I love him!” + +As if she had suddenly seen an abyss opening beneath her feet, Henrietta +threw herself back, pale, trembling, her eyes starting from their +sockets. + +“You---love--Daniel!” she stammered,--“you love him!” + +And, agitated by a nervous tremor, she said, laughing painfully,-- + +“But he--he? Can you hope that he will ever love you?” + +“Yes, any day I may wish for it. And I shall wish it the day when he +returns.” + +Was she speaking seriously? or was the whole scene only a bit of cruel +sport? That is what Henrietta was asking herself, as far as she was able +to control her thoughts; for she felt her head growing dizzy, and her +thoughts rushed wildly through her mind. + +“You love Daniel!” she repeated once more, “and yet you were married the +very week after his departure!” + +“Alas, yes!” + +“And what was my father to you? A magnificent prey, which you did +not like to let escape,--an easy dupe. After all, you acknowledge it +yourself, it was his fortune you wanted. It was for his money’s +sake that you married him,--you, the young, marvellously-beautiful +woman,--the old man.” + +A smile rose upon the lips of the countess, in which she appeared +herself in all the deep treachery of her secret calculations. She broke +in, laughing ironically-- + +“I? I had coveted the fortune of this dear count, my husband? You do not +think of it, madam? Have you so completely forgotten the zeal with which +you heard me, only the other day, try to turn him from this enterprise +in which he is about to embark all he possesses?” + +Henrietta hardly knew whether she was awake or asleep. Was she not, +perhaps, under the influence of one of those hallucinations which fevers +produce? + +“And you dare tell me all these things, me, Count Ville-Handry’s own +daughter, the daughter of your husband?” + +“Why not?” asked the countess. + +And, shrugging her shoulders, she added in a careless tone,-- + +“Do you think I am afraid of your reporting me to him? You are at +liberty to try it. Listen. I think I hear your father’s footstep in the +vestibule; call him in, and tell him what we have been talking about.” + +And, as Henrietta said nothing, she laughed, and said,-- + +“Ah! you hesitate. You do not dare do it? Well, you are wrong. I mean to +hand him your letter, and I shall call him.” + +There was no need for it; for at the same moment the count entered, +followed by austere, grim Mrs. Brian. As he perceived his wife and his +daughter, his face lighted up immediately; and he exclaimed,-- + +“What? You are here, both of you, and chatting amicably like two +charming sisters? My Henrietta has come back to her senses, I trust.” + +They were both silent; and, seeing how they looked at each other with +fierce glances, he went on in a tone of great bitterness-- + +“But no, it is not so! I am not so fortunate. What is the matter? What +has happened?” + +The countess shook her head sadly, and replied,-- + +“The matter is, that your daughter, during your absence, has written a +letter to one of my most cruel enemies, to that man who, you know, +on our wedding-day, slandered me meanly; in fine, to the Duke of +Champdoce!” + +“And has any one of my servants dared to carry that letter?” + +“No, my friend! It was brought to me in obedience to your orders; and +the young lady summoned me haughtily to hand her that letter.” + +“That letter?” cried the count. “Where is that letter?” + +The countess gave it to him with these words,-- + +“Perhaps it would be better to throw it into the fire without reading +it.” + +But already he had torn the envelope; and, as he was reading the first +lines, a crimson blush overspread his temples, and his eyes became +bloodshot. For Henrietta, sure of the Duke of Champdoce, had not +hesitated to open her heart to him, describing her situation as it +really was; painting her step-mother as he had anticipated she would +be; and at every turn certain phrases were repeated, which were so many +blows with a dagger to the count. + +“This is unheard of!” he growled with a curse. “This is +incomprehensible! Such perversity has never been known before.” + +He went and stood before his daughter, his arms crossed, and cried with +a voice of thunder,-- + +“Wretch! Will you disgrace us all?” + +She made no reply. Immovable like a statue, she did not tremble under +the storm. Besides, what could she do? Defend herself? She would not +stoop to do that. Repeat the impudent avowals of the countess? What +would be the use? Did she not know beforehand that the count would not +believe her? In the meantime, grim Mrs. Brian had taken a seat by the +side of her beloved Sarah. + +“I,” she said, “if I were, for my sins, afflicted with such a daughter, +I would get her a husband as soon as possible.” + +“I have thought of that,” replied the count; “and I believe I have even +hit upon an arrangement which”-- + +But, when he saw his daughter’s watchful eye fixed upon him, he paused, +and, pointing towards the door, said to her brutally,-- + +“You are in the way here!” + +Without saying a word, she went out, much less troubled by her father’s +fury than by the strange confessions which the countess had made. She +only now began to measure the full extent of her step-mother’s hatred, +and knew that she was too practical a woman to waste her time by making +idle speeches. Therefore, if she had stated that she loved Daniel,--a +statement which Henrietta believed to be untrue,--if she had impudently +confessed that she coveted her husband’s fortune, she had a purpose in +view. What was that purpose? How could any one unearth the truth from +among such a mass of falsehood and deception? + +At all events, the scene was strange enough to confound any one’s +judgment. And when Henrietta, that evening, found an opportunity to tell +M. de Brevan what had happened, he trembled in his chair, and was so +overwhelmed with surprise, that he forgot his precautions, and exclaimed +almost aloud,-- + +“That is not possible!” + +There was no doubt that he, usually so impassive, was terribly excited. +In less than five minutes he had changed color more than ten times. You +would have thought he was a man who at a single blow sees the edifice of +all his hopes crumble to pieces. At last, after a moment’s reflection, +he said,-- + +“Perhaps it would be wise, madam, to leave the house.” + +But she replied sadly,-- + +“What? How can I do that? After so many odious calumnies, my honor and +Daniel’s honor oblige me to remain here. He recommends me only to flee +at the last extremity, and when there is no other resource left. Now, I +ask you, shall I be more unhappy or more seriously threatened to-morrow +than I am to-day? Evidently not.” + + + + +XVI. + +But, this confidence which Henrietta expressed was only apparent. In her +heart she suffered from the most terrible presentiments. A secret voice +told her that this scene, no doubt well prepared and carefully brought +about, was but another step leading to the final catastrophe. + +Days, however, passed by, and nothing unusual happened. It looked as if +they had resolved, after that crisis, to give her a short respite, and +time to recover. + +Even the watch kept upon her movements was not quite as strict as +heretofore. The countess kept out of her way. Mrs. Brian had given up +the desire to frighten her by her incessant remarks. Her father she saw +but rarely; for he was entirely absorbed in the preparations for the +Pennsylvania Petroleum Society. Thus, a week later, all seemed to have +entirely forgotten the terrible explosion produced by the letter to the +Duke of Champdoce. + +All? By no means. There was one of the inmates of the palace who +recalled it daily,--M. Thomas Elgin. + +On the very evening after the scene, his generous indignation had so far +gotten the better of his usual reserve, and his pledge of neutrality, +that he had taken the Countess Sarah aside, and overwhelmed her with +sharp reproaches. + +“You will have to eat your own words,” he had told her, among other +things, “if you use such abominable means to gratify your hatred.” + +It is true, that, when he thus took his kinswoman aside, he also took +pains to be overheard by Henrietta. And besides, for fear, perhaps, that +she might not fully appreciate his sentiments, he had stealthily pressed +her hand, and whispered into her ear,-- + +“Poor, dear girl! But I am here. I shall watch.” + +This sounded like a promise to afford her protection, which certainly +would have been efficient if it had been sincere. But was it sincere? + +“No; most assuredly not!” said M. de Brevan when he was consulted. “It +can be nothing but vile hypocrisy and the beginning of an abominable +farce. You will see, madam.” + +What Henrietta really saw was, that the Hon. M. Elgin suddenly underwent +a complete metamorphosis. A new Sir Thorn appeared, whom no one would +have ever suspected under the cloak of icy reserve which the former had +worn. His sympathetic pity of former days was succeeded by more tender +sentiments. It was not pity now, which animated his big, blue-china +eyes, but the half-suppressed flame of a discreet passion. In public he +did not commit himself much; but there was no little attention which +he did not pay Henrietta by stealth. He never left the room before +her; and, on the reception-evenings, he always took a seat by her, and +remained there till the end. The most direct result of these manoeuvres +was to keep M. de Brevan from her. The latter became naturally very +indignant at this, and began to dislike Sir Thorn to such an extent, +that he could hardly contain himself. + +“Well, madam,” he said to Henrietta on one of the few occasions when he +could speak to her,--“well, what did I tell you? Does the wretch show +his hand clearly enough now?” + +Henrietta discouraged her curious lover as much as she could; but it was +impossible for her to avoid him, as they lived under the same roof, and +sat down twice a day at the same table. + +“The simplest way,” was M. de Brevan’s advice, “would be, perhaps, to +provoke an explanation.” + +But he did not wait to be asked. One morning, after breakfast, he waited +for Henrietta in the vestibule; and, when she appeared, he said in an +embarrassed manner,-- + +“I must speak to you, madam; it is absolutely necessary.” + +She did not manifest any surprise, and simply replied,-- + +“Follow me, sir.” + +She entered into the parlor, and he came with her. For about a minute +they remained there alone, standing face to face,--she trying to keep up +her spirits, although blushing deeply; he, apparently so overcome, that +he had lost the use of his voice. At last, all of a sudden, and as +if making a supreme effort, Sir Thorn began in a breathless voice to +declare, that, according to Henrietta’s answer, he would be the happiest +or the most unfortunate of mortals. Touched by her innocence, and the +persecutions to which she was exposed, he had at first pitied her, +then, discovering in her daily more excellent qualities, unusual energy, +coupled with all the charming bashfulness of a young girl, he had no +longer been able to resist such marvellous attractions. + +Henrietta, still mistress of herself, because she was convinced that M. +Elgin was only playing a wretched farce, observed him as closely as she +could, and, when he paused a moment, began,-- + +“Believe me, sir”-- + +But he interrupted her, saying with unusual vehemence,-- + +“Oh! I beseech you, madam, let me finish. Many in my place would have +spoken to your father; but I thought that would hardly be fair in your +exceptional position. Still I have reason to believe that Count Ville- +Handry would look upon my proposals with favor. But then he would +probably have attempted to do violence to your feelings. Now I wish +to be indebted to you only, madam, deciding in full enjoyment of your +liberty; for”-- + +An expression of intense anxiety contracted the features of his usually +so impassive face; and he added with great earnestness,-- + +“Miss Henrietta, I am an honorable man; I love you. Will you be my +wife?” + +By a stroke of instinctive genius, he had found the only argument, +perhaps, that might have procured credit for his sincerity. + +But what did that matter to Henrietta? She began, saying,-- + +“Believe me, sir. I fully appreciate the honor you do me; but I am no +longer free”-- + +“I beseech you”-- + +“Freely, and among all men, I have chosen M. Daniel Champcey. My life is +in his hands.” + +He tottered as if he had received a heavy blow, and stammered with a +half-extinct voice,-- + +“Will you not leave me a glimpse of hope?” + +“I would do wrong if I did so, sir, and I have never yet deceived any +one.” + +But the Hon. M. Elgin was not one of those men who despair easily, and +give up. He was not discouraged by a first failure; and he showed it +very soon. The very next day he became a changed man, as if Henrietta’s +refusal had withered the very roots of his life. In his carriage, his +gestures, and his tone of voice, he betrayed the utmost dejection. He +looked as if he had grown taller and thinner. A bitter smile curled on +his lips; and his magnificent whiskers, usually so admirably kept, now +hung down miserably on his chest. And this intense melancholy grew and +grew, till it became so evident to all the world, that people asked the +countess,-- + +“What is the matter with poor M. Elgin? He looks funereal.” + +“He is unhappy,” was the answer, accompanied by a sigh, which sounded +as if it had been uttered in order to increase curiosity, and stimulate +people to observe him more closely. Several persons did observe him; and +they soon found out that Sir Thorn no longer took his seat by Henrietta +as formerly, and that he avoided every occasion to address her a word. + +For all that he was not resigned; far from that. He only laid siege from +a distance now, spending whole evenings in looking at her from afar, +absorbed in mute ecstasy. And at all times, incessantly and everywhere, +she met him, as if he had been her shadow, or as if he had been +condemned to breathe the air which had been displaced by her petticoats. +One would have thought him endowed with the gift of multiplying himself; +for he was inevitably seen wherever she was,--leaning against the +door-frame, or resting his elbow on the mantlepiece, his eyes fixed upon +her. And, when she did not see him, she felt his looks still weighing +her down. M. de Brevan, having been made aware of his importunate +attentions, seemed to check his indignation only with great difficulty. +Once or twice he spoke of calling out this wretched fellow (so he called +Sir Thorn); and, in order to quiet him, Henrietta had to repeat to him +over and over again, that, after such an encounter, he would no longer +be able to appear at the palace, and would thus deprive her of the only +friend to whom she could look for assistance. + +He yielded; but he said after careful consideration,-- + +“This abominable persecution cannot go on, madam: this man compromises +you too dreadfully. You ought to lay your complaint before Count +Ville-Handry.” + +She decided to do so, not without great reluctance; but the count +stopped her at the first word she uttered. + +“I think, my daughter, your vanity blinds you. Before M. Elgin, who +is one of the most eminent financiers in all Europe, should think of +a little insignificant person like you, he would look a long time +elsewhere.” + +“Permit me, father”-- + +“Stop! If you should, however, not deceive yourself, it would be the +greatest good luck for you, and an honor of which you ought to be very +proud indeed. Do you think it would be easy to find a husband for you, +after all the unpleasant talk to which you have given occasion?” + +“I do not wish to marry, father.” + +“Of course not. However, as such a marriage would meet all my wishes, as +it would serve to tighten the bonds which unite us with this honorable +family (if M. Thomas Elgin should really have such intentions as +you mention), I should know, I think, how to force you to marry him. +However, I shall speak to him, and see.” + +He spoke to him indeed, and soon; for the very next morning the countess +and Mrs. Brian purposely went out, so as to leave Henrietta and Sir +Thorn alone. The honorable gentleman looked sadder than usually. He +began thus,-- + +“Is it really true, madam, that you have made complaint to your father?” + +“Your pertinacity compelled me to do so,” replied Henrietta. + +“Is the idea of becoming my wife so very revolting to you?” + +“I have told you, sir, I am no longer free.” + +“Yes, to be sure! You love M. Daniel Champcey. You love him. He knows +it; for you had told him so, no doubt: and yet he has forsaken you.” + +Sometimes, in her innermost heart, Henrietta had accused Daniel. But +what she thought she would permit no one else to think. She replied, +therefore, haughtily,-- + +“It was a point of honor with M. Champcey, and it was so with me. If +he had hesitated, I would have been the first one to say to him, ‘Duty +calls; you must go.’” + +Sir Thorn shook his head with a sardonic smile, and said,-- + +“But he did not hesitate. It is ten months now since he left you; and +no one knows for how many more months, for how many years, he will be +absent. For his sake you suffer martyrdom; and, when he returns, he may +have long since forgotten you.” + +Her eyes beaming with faith, Henrietta rose to her full height, and +replied,-- + +“I believe in Daniel as surely as in myself.” + +“And if they convinced you that you were mistaken?” + +“They would render me a very sad service, which would bring no reward to +any one.” + +Sir Thorn’s lips moved, as if he were about to answer. A thought seemed +to stop him. Then in a stifled voice, with a gesture of despair, he +added,-- + +“Keep your illusions, madam; and farewell.” + +He was going to leave the room; but she threw herself in his way, +crossed her arms, and said to him in an imperative tone,-- + +“You have gone too far, sir, to retrace your steps. You are bound now +to justify your insidious insinuations, or, to confess that they were +false.” + +Then he seemed to make up his mind, and said, speaking rapidly,-- + +“You will have it so? Well, be it so. Know, then, since you insist upon +it, that M. Daniel Champcey has been deceiving you most wickedly; that +he does not love you, and probably never did love you.” + +“That is what you say,” replied Henrietta. + +Her haughty carriage, the disdain, rather than disgust, with which +she spoke, could not fail to exasperate M. Elgin. He checked himself, +however, and said, in a short and cutting tone,-- + +“I say so because it is so; and any one but you, possessing a less noble +ignorance of evil, would long since have discovered the truth. To +what do you attribute Sarah’s implacable enmity? To the memory of your +offences on the occasion of her wedding? Poor child! If that had been +all, her indifference would have given you back your place months ago. +Jealousy alone is capable of that fierce and insatiable hatred which +cannot be disarmed by tears or submission,--that hatred which time +increases, instead of diminishing. Between Sarah and you, Miss +Henrietta, there stands a man.” + +“A man?” + +“Yes,--M. Daniel Champcey.” + +Henrietta felt as if a sharp knife had been plunged into her bosom. + +“I do not understand you, sir,” she said. + +He, shrugging his shoulders, and assuming an air of commiseration, went +on,-- + +“What? You will not understand that Sarah is your rival; that she has +loved M. Champcey; that she is still madly in love with him? Ah! they +have deceived Mrs. Brian and myself cruelly.” + +“How so?” + +He turned his head aside, and murmured, as if speaking to himself,-- + +“-------- -------- was her lover.” + +Miss Ville-Handry discerned the truth with admirable instinct, drew +herself up, and said in her most energetic way,-- + +“That is false!” + +Sir Thorn trembled; but that was all. + +“You have asked me to tell the truth,” he said coldly, “and I have done +so. Try to remember. Have you forgotten that little scene, after which +M. Champcey fled from our house in the middle of the night, bareheaded, +without taking his overcoat?” + +“Sir?” + +“Did you not think that was extraordinary? That night, you see, we +discovered the whole thing. After having been one of the foremost to +recommend to Sarah to marry your father, M. Champcey came and asked her +to give up that marriage. He had, before that, tried to have it broken +off through your agency, madam, using thus his influence over you, his +betrothed, for the benefit of his passion.” + +“Ah! You lie impudently, sir!” said Henrietta. + +To this charge, which fell like a blow upon his face, he only replied,-- + +“I have proofs.” + +“What proofs?” + +“Letters written by M. Champcey to Sarah. I have obtained two; and I +have them here in my pocket-book.” + +He put at the same time his hand to his pocket. She stopped him. + +“These letters would prove nothing to me, sir.” + +“But”-- + +She cast a withering glance at him, and said, in a voice of unbearable +contempt,-- + +“Those who have sent a letter to the Navy Department, which pretended to +have been written by Daniel, cannot find any difficulty in imitating his +signature. Let us break off here, sir. I forbid you ever to speak to me +again.” + +M. Elgin laughed in a terrible way. + +“That is your last word?” he asked. + +Instead of answering him, she drew a step aside, thus opening the way to +the door, at which she pointed with her finger. + +“Well,” said Sir Thorn with an accent of fierce threatening, “remember +this; I have sworn you shall be my wife, whether you will or not; and my +wife you shall be!” + +“Leave the room, sir, or I must give it up to you!” + +He went out swearing; and, more dead than alive, Henrietta sank into +an arm-chair. As long as she had been in the presence of the enemy, her +pride had enabled her to keep up the appearance of absolute faith in +Daniel; but, now she was alone, terrible doubts began to beset her. Was +there not something true in the evident exaggerations of the Hon. M. +Elgin? She was not quite sure. Had not Sarah also boasted of it, that +she loved Daniel, and that she had been in his room? Finally, Henrietta +recalled with a shudder, that, when Daniel had told her of his adventure +in Circus Street, he had appeared embarrassed towards the end, and had +failed fully to explain the reasons of his flight. + +And to crown the matter, when she had tried to draw from M. de Brevan +additional information on the subject, she had been struck by his +embarrassment, and the lame and confused way in which he had defended +his friend. + +“Ah, now all is really over!” she thought. “The measure of my sufferings +is full indeed!” + +Unfortunately it was not yet full. A new persecution awaited her, +infamous, monstrous, by the side of which all the others amounted to +nothing. + +“Whether you will, or not, you shall be mine,” had Sir Thorn said; and +from that moment he was bent upon convincing her that he was not the man +to shrink from any thing, even unto violence. + +He was no longer the sympathetic defender of former days, nor the +timid lover, nor the sighing, rejected lover, who followed Henrietta +everywhere. He was, henceforth, a kind of wild beast, pursuing her, +harassing her, persecuting her, with his eyes glaring at her with +abominable lust. He no longer looked at her furtively, as formerly; +but he lay in wait for her in the passages, ready, apparently, to throw +himself upon her; projecting his lips as if to touch her cheeks, and +extending his arms as if to seize her around her waist. A drunken lackey +pursuing a scullion would not have looked and acted more impudently. + +Terrified, the poor girl threw herself on her knees before her father, +beseeching him to protect her. But he pushed her back, and reproached +her for slandering the most honorable and most inoffensive of men. +Blindness could go no farther. + +And Sir Thorn knew probably of her failure; for the next day he looked +at her, laughing, as if he felt that he now might venture upon any +thing. And he did venture upon something, that so far would have seemed +impossible. One evening, or rather one night, when the count and the +countess were at a ball, he came and knocked at the door of Henrietta’s +chamber. + +Frightened, she rang the bell; and the servants who came up freed her +from the intruder. But from that moment her terrors had no limit; and, +whenever the count went out at night with his wife, she barricaded +herself up in her chamber, and spent the whole night, dressed, in a +chair. Could she remain any longer standing upon the brink of an abyss +without name? She thought she could not; and after long and painful +hesitation, she said one evening to M. de Brevan,-- + +“My mind is made up; I must flee.” + +Taken aback, as if he had received a blow upon his head, with his mouth +wide open, his eyes stretched out, M. de Brevan had turned deadly pale; +and the perspiration pearled in large drops on his temples, while his +hands trembled like the eager hands of a man who touches, and is about +to seize, a long-coveted prize. + +“Then,” he stammered out, “you are decided; you will leave your father’s +house?” + +“I must,” she said; and her eyes filled with bright tears. “And the +sooner I can do it the better; for every moment I spend here now may +bring a new danger. And yet, before risking any thing decisive, it might +be better first to write to Daniel’s aunt in order to ask her about the +directions she may have received, and to tell her that very soon I shall +come to ask for her pity and her protection.” + +“What? You think of seeking refuge at the house of that estimable lady?” + +“Certainly.” + +M. de Brevan, now entirely master of himself, and calculating with his +usual calmness, gravely shook his head, and said,-- + +“You ought to be careful, madam. To seek an asylum at the house of our +friend’s relative might be a very grave imprudence.” + +“But Daniel recommended it to me in his letter.” + +“Yes; but he had not considered the consequences of the advice he gave +you. Do not deceive yourself; the wrath of your enemies will be terrible +when they find that you have escaped them. They will pursue you; they +will employ the police; they will search for you all over France. Now, +it is evident, that the very first place where they will look for you +will be Daniel’s relatives. The house of the old aunt will be watched +at once, and most jealously. How can you there escape from inquiry and +pursuit? It would be folly to hope for safety there.” + +Pensively Henrietta hung her head. Then she said,-- + +“Perhaps you are right, sir.” + +“Now,” continued M. de Brevan, “let us see what they would do if they +should discover you. You are not of age, consequently you are entirely +dependent on the will of your father. Under the inspiration of your +step-mother, he would attack Daniel’s aunt, on the score of having +inveigled a minor, and would bring you back here.” + +She seemed to reflect; then she said suddenly,--“I can implore the +assistance of the Duchess of Champdoce.” + +“Unfortunately, madam, they told you the truth. For a year now, the Duke +of Champdoce and his wife have been travelling in Italy.” + +A gesture of despair betrayed the terrible dejection of the poor girl. + +“Great God!” she said, “what must I do?” + +A passing smile appeared on the face of M. de Brevan; and he answered in +his most persuasive manner,-- + +“Will you permit me to offer you some advice, madam?” + +“Alas, sir! I beg you to do so for Heaven’s sake.” + +“Well, this is the only plan that seems to me feasible. To-morrow +morning I will rent in a quiet house a suitable lodging, less than +modest, a little chamber. You will move into it, and await there your +coming of age, or Daniel’s return. No detective will ever think of +seeking the daughter of Count Ville-Handry in a poor needlewoman’s +garret.” + +“And I am to stay there alone, forsaken and lost?” + +“It is a sacrifice which it seems to me you have to make for safety’s +sake.” + +She said nothing, weighing the two alternatives,--to remain in the +house, or to accept M. de Brevan’s proposition. After a minute she +said,-- + +“I will follow your advice, sir; only”--She was evidently painfully +embarrassed, and covered with blushes. + +“You see,” she said, after long hesitation, “all this will cost money. +Formerly I used to have always a couple of hundred dollars in my drawers +somewhere; but now”-- + +“Madam,” broke in M. de Brevan, “madam, is not my whole fortune entirely +at your disposal?” + +“To be sure, I have my jewels; and they are quite valuable.” + +“For that very reason you ought to be careful not to take them with you. +We must guard against every thing. We may fail. They may discover +my share in the attempt; and who knows what charges they would raise +against me?” + +His apprehension alone betrayed the character of the man; and still it +did not enlighten Henrietta. + +“Well, prepare every thing as you think best, sir,” she said sadly. “I +rely entirely upon your friendship, your devotion, and your honor.” + +M. de Brevan had a slight attack of coughing, which prevented him from +answering at first. Then, finding that Henrietta was bent upon escaping, +he tried to devise the means. + +Henrietta proposed that they should wait for a night when the count +would take the countess to a ball. She might then slip into the garden, +and climb the wall. But the attempt seemed to be too dangerous in M. de +Brevan’s eyes. He said,-- + +“I think I see something better. Count Ville-Handry is going soon to +give a great party?” + +“The day after to-morrow, Thursday.” + +“All right. On Thursday, madam, you will complain early in the morning +already, of a bad headache, and you will send for the doctor. He will +prescribe something, I dare say, which you will not take; but they will +think you are sick, and they will watch you less carefully. At night, +however, towards ten o’clock, you will come down and conceal yourself at +the foot of the back-stairs, in the corner of the courtyard. You can do +that, I presume?” + +“Very easily, sir.” + +“In that case all will be right. I will be here with a carriage at ten +o’clock precisely. My coachman, whom I will instruct beforehand, instead +of stopping at the great entrance, will pretend to go amiss, and stop +just at the foot of the staircase. I will jump out; and you, you will +swiftly jump into the carriage.” + +“Yes, that also can be done.” + +“As the curtains will be down, no one will see you. The carriage will +drive out again, and wait for me outside; and ten minutes later I shall +have joined you.” + +The plan being adopted, as every thing depended upon punctuality, M. de +Brevan regulated his watch by Henrietta’s; and then, rising, he said,-- + +“We have already conversed longer than we ought to have done in +prudence. I shall not speak to you again to-night. Till Thursday.” + +And with sinking voice, she said,-- + +“Till Thursday.” + + + + +XVII. + +By this one word Henrietta sealed her destiny; and she knew it. She was +fully aware of the terrible rashness of her plan. A voice had called +to her, from her innermost heart, that her honor, her life, and all her +earthly hopes, had thus been staked upon one card. She foresaw clearly +what the world would say the day after her flight. She would be lost, +and could hope for rehabilitation only when Daniel returned. + +If she could only have been as sure of the heart of her chosen one as +she had formerly been! But the cunning innuendoes of the countess, and +the impudent asseverations of Sir Thorn, had done their work, and shaken +her faith. Daniel had been absent for nearly a year now, and during all +that time she had written to him every month; but she had received +from him only two letters through M. de Brevan,--and what letters! Very +polite, very cold, and almost without a word of hope. + +If Daniel upon his return should abandon her! + +And still, the more she reflected with all that lucidity with which the +approach of a great crisis inspired her, the more she became impressed +with the absolute necessity of flight. Yes, she must face unknown +dangers, but only in order to escape from dangers which she knew but too +well. She was relying upon a man who was almost a stranger to her; but +was not this the only way to escape from the insults of a wretch who had +become the boon companion, the friend, and the counsellor of her father? +Finally, she sacrificed her reputation, that is, the appearance of +honor; but she saved the reality, honor itself. + +Ah, it was hard! As long as the day lasted on Wednesday, she was +wandering about, pale as a ghost, all over the vast palace. She bade +farewell to this beloved house, full of souvenirs of eighteen years in +which she had played as a child, where Daniel’s voice had caused her +heart to beat loud and fast, and where her sainted mother had died. And +in the evening, at table, big tears were rolling down her cheeks as she +watched the stupidly-triumphant serenity of her father. + +The next day, however, Thursday, Henrietta complained, as was agreed +upon, of a violent headache; and the doctor was sent for. He found her +in a violent fever, and ordered her to keep her bed. He little knew that +he was thus restoring the poor girl to liberty. As soon as he had left, +she rose; and, like a dying person who makes all her last dispositions, +she hastened to put every thing in order in her drawers, putting +together what she meant to keep, and burning what she wished to keep +from the curiosity of the countess and her accomplices. + +M. de Brevan had recommended her not to take her jewels. She left them, +therefore, with the exception of such as she wore every day, openly +displayed on a _chiffonnier_. The manner of her escape forbade her +taking much baggage; and still some linen was indispensable. Upon +reflection it did not seem to her inexpedient to take a small carpet- +bag, which her mother had given her, and which contained a dressing- +case, all the articles in which were of solid gold and of marvellously +fine workmanship. When her preparations were complete, she wrote to her +father a long letter, in which she explained fully the motives of her +desperate resolution. + +Then she waited. Night had fallen long since; and the last preparations +for a princely entertainment filled the palace with noise and movement. +She could hear the hasty steps of busy servants, the loud orders of +butlers and stewards, the hammer of upholsterers who gave here and there +a final touch. + +Soon there came the rolling of wheels on the fine gravel in the court- +yard, and the arrival of the first guests. + +Henceforth it was for Henrietta only a question of minutes; and she +counted them by her watch with a terrible beating of her heart. At last +the hands marked a quarter before ten. Acting almost automatically, she +rose, threw an immense cashmere shawl over her shoulders; and, taking +her little bag in her hand, she escaped from her room, and slipped along +the passages to the servants’ stairs. + +She went on tiptoe, holding her breath, eye and ear on the watch, ready +at the smallest noise to run back, or to rush into the first open room. +Thus she got down without difficulty, reached the dark hall at the foot +of the staircase; and there in the shade, seated on her little bag, +she waited, out of breath, her hair moist with a cold perspiration, her +teeth clattering in her mouth from fear. At last it struck ten o’clock; +and the vibration of the bell could still be heard, when M. de Brevan’s +_coupe_ stopped at the door. + +His coachman was certainly a skilful driver. Pretending to have lost +the control of his horse, he made it turn round, and forced it back with +such admirable awkwardness, that the carriage came close up to the wall, +and the right hand door was precisely in the face of the dark little +hall in which Henrietta was standing. As quick as lightning M. de Brevan +jumped out. Henrietta rushed forward. Nobody saw any thing. + +A moment later the carriage slowly drove out of the court-yard of the +palace of Count Ville-Handry, and stopped at some little distance. + +It was done. In leaving her father’s house, Miss Ville-Handry had broken +with all the established laws of society. She was at the mercy now of +what might follow; and, according as events might turn out favorable or +unfavorable, she was saved or lost. But she did not think of that. As +the danger of being surprised passed away, the feverish excitement that +had kept her up so far, also subsided, and she was lying, undone, on the +cushions, when the door suddenly opened, and a man appeared. It was M. +de Brevan. + +“Well, madam,” he cried with a strangely embarrassed voice, “we have +conquered. I have just presented my respects to the Countess Sarah and +her worthy companions; I have shaken hands with Count Ville-Handry; and +no one has the shadow of a suspicion.” And, as Henrietta said nothing, +he added,-- + +“Now I think we ought to lose no time; for I must show myself again at +the ball as soon as possible. Your lodgings are ready for you, madam; +and I am going, with your leave, to drive you there.” + +She raised herself, and said, with a great effort,-- + +“Do so, sir!” + +M. de Brevan had already jumped into the carriage, which started at full +gallop; and, while they were driving along, he explained to Henrietta +how she would have to conduct herself in the house in which he had +engaged a lodging for her. He had spoken of her, he said, as of one of +his relatives from the provinces, who had suffered a reverse of fortune, +and who had come to Paris in the hope of finding here some way to earn +her living. + +“Remember this romance, madam,” he begged her, “and let your words and +actions be in conformity with it. And especially be careful never to +utter my name or your father’s. Remember that you are still under +age, that you will be searched for anxiously, and that the slightest +indiscretion may put them upon your traces.” + +Then, as she still kept silent, weeping, he wanted to take her hand, and +thus noticed the little bag which she had taken. + +“What is that?” he asked, in a tone, which, under its affected +gentleness, betrayed no small dissatisfaction. + +“Some indispensable articles.” + +“Ah! you did not after all take your jewels, madam?” + +“No, certainly not, sir!” + +Still this persistency on the part of M. de Brevan began to strike her +as odd; and she would have betrayed her surprise, if the carriage had +not at that moment stopped suddenly before No. 23 Water Street. + +“Here we are, madam,” said M. de Brevan. + +And, lightly jumping down, he rang the bell at the door, which opened +immediately. The room of the concierge was still light. M. de Brevan +walked straight up to it, and opened the door like a man who is at home +in a house. + +“It is I,” he said. + +A man and a woman, the concierge and his wife, who had been dozing, her +nose in a paper, started up suddenly. + +“Monsieur Maxime!” they said with one voice. + +“I bring,” said M. de Brevan, “my young kinswoman, of whom I told you, +Miss Henrietta.” + +If Henrietta had had the slightest knowledge of Parisian customs, she +would have guessed from the bows of the concierge, and the courtesies of +his wife, how liberally they had been rewarded in advance. + +“The young lady’s room is quite ready,” said the man. + +“My husband has arranged every thing himself,” broke in his wife; “it +was no trifle, after the papering had been done. And I--I made a fine +fire there as early as five o’clock, to take out the dampness.” + +“Let us go up then,” said Brevan. + +The concierge and his wife, however, were economical people; and the gas +on the stairs had long since been put out. + +“Give me a candlestick, Chevassat,” said the woman to her husband. + +And with her lighted candle she went ahead, lighting M. de Brevan and +Henrietta, and stopping at every landing to praise the neatness of the +house. At last, in the fifth story, at the entrance to a dark passage, +she opened a door, and said,-- + +“Here we are! The young lady will see how nice it is.” + +It might possibly have been nice in her eyes; but Henrietta, accustomed +to the splendor of her father’s palace, could not conceal a gesture of +disgust. This more than modest chamber looked to her like a garret such +as she would not have permitted the least of her maids to occupy at +home. + +But never mind! She went in bravely, putting her travelling-bag on +a bureau, and taking off her shawl, as if to take possession of the +lodging. But her first impression had not escaped M. de Brevan. He drew +her into the passage while the woman was stirring the fire, and said in +a low voice,-- + +“It is a terrible room; but prudence induced me to choose it.” + +“I like it as it is, sir.” + +“You will want a great many things, no doubt; but we will see to that +to-morrow. To-night I must leave you: you know it is all important that +I should be seen again at your father’s house.” + +“You are quite right; sir, go, make haste!” + +Still he did not wish to go without having once more recommended his +“young kinswoman” to Mrs. Chevassat. He only left when she had over and +over again assured him that there was nothing more to be done; and then +the woman also went down. + +The terrible emotions which had shaken and undermined Henrietta during +the last forty-eight hours were followed now by a feeling of intense +astonishment at what she had done, at the irrevocable step she had +taken. Her quiet life had been interrupted by an event which to her +appeared more stupendous than if a mountain had been moved. Standing +by the mantle-piece, she looked at her pale face in the little +looking-glass, and said to herself,-- + +“Is that myself, my own self?” + +Yes, it was she herself, the only daughter of the great Count Ville- +Handry, here in a strange house, in a wretched garret-room, which she +called her own. It was she, yesterday still surrounded by princely +splendor, waited on by an army of servants, now in want of almost every +thing, and having for her only servant the old woman to whom M. de +Brevan had recommended her. + +Was this possible? She could hardly believe it herself. Still she felt +no repentance at what she had done. She could not remain any longer +in her father’s house where she was exposed to the vilest insults from +everybody. Could she have stayed any longer? + +“But what is the use,” she said to herself, “of thinking of what is +past? I must not allow myself to think of it; I must shake off this +heaviness.” + +And, to occupy her mind, she rose and went about to explore her new +home, and to examine all it contained. It was one of those lodgings +about which the owners of houses rarely trouble themselves, and where +they never make the smallest repairs, because they are always sure of +renting them out just as they are. The floor, laid in bricks, was going +to pieces; and a number of bricks were loose, and shaking in their +layers of cement. The ceiling was cracked, and fell off in scales; while +all along the walls it was blackened by flaring tallow-candles. The +papering, a greasy, dirty gray paper, preserved the fingermarks of all +the previous occupants of the room from the time it had first been hung. +The furniture, also, was in keeping with the room,--a walnut bedstead +with faded calico curtains, a chest of drawers, a table, two chairs, and +a miserable arm-chair; that was all. + +A short curtain hung before the window. By the side of the bed was a +little strip of carpeting; and on the mantlepiece a zinc clock between +two blue glass vases. Nothing else! + +How could M. de Brevan ever have selected such a room, such a hole? +Henrietta could not comprehend it. He had told her, and she had believed +him, that they must use extreme caution. But would she have been any +more compromised, or in greater danger of being discovered by the +Countess Sarah, if they had papared the room anew, put a simple felt +carpet on the floor, and furnished the room a little more decently? + +Still she did not conceive any suspicion even yet. She thought it +mattered very little where and how she was lodged. She hoped it was, +after all, only for a short time, and consoled herself with the thought +that a cell in a convent would have been worse still. And any thing was +better than her father’s house. + +“At least,” she said, “I shall be quiet and undisturbed here.” + +Perhaps she was to be morally quiet; for as to any other peace, she was +soon to be taught differently. Accustomed to the profound stillness +of the immense rooms in her father’s palace, Henrietta had no idea, of +course, of the incessant movement that goes on in the upper stories +of these Paris lodging-houses, which contain the population of a whole +village, and where the tenants, separated from each other by thin +partition-walls, live, so to say, all in public. + +Sleep, under such circumstances, becomes possible only after +long experience; and the poor girl had to pay very dear for her +apprenticeship. It was past four o’clock before she could fall asleep, +overcome by fatigue; and then it was so heavy a sleep, that she was +not aroused by the stir in the whole house as day broke. It was broad +daylight, hence, when she awoke; and a pale sun-ray was gliding into the +room through the torn curtain. The zinc clock pointed at twelve o’clock. +She rose and dressed hastily. + +Yesterday, when she rose, she rang her bell, and her maid came in +promptly, made a fire, brought her her slippers, and threw over her +shoulders a warm, wadded dressing-wrapper. But to-day! + +This thought carried her back to her father’s house. What were they +doing there at this hour? Her escape was certainly known by this time. +No doubt they had sent the servants out in all directions. Her father, +most probably, had gone to call in the aid of the police. She felt +almost happy at the idea of being so safely concealed; and looking +around her chamber, which appeared even more wretched by daylight than +last night, she said,-- + +“No, they will never think of looking for me here!” + +In the meantime she had discovered a small supply of wood near the +fireplace; and, as it was cold, she was busy making a fire, when +somebody knocked at her door. She opened; and Mrs. Chevassat, the wife +of the concierge appeared. + +“It is I, my pretty young lady,” she said as she entered. “Not seeing +you come down, I said to myself, ‘I must go up to look after her.’ And +have you slept well?” + +“Very well, madam, thank you!” + +“Now, that’s right. And how is your appetite? For that was what I came +up for. Don’t you think you might eat a little something?” + +Henrietta not only thought of it; but she was very hungry. For there +are no events and no adventures, no excitements and no sorrows, which +prevent us from getting hungry; the tyranny of our physical wants is +stronger than any thing else. + +“I would be obliged to you, madam,” she said, “if you would bring me up +some breakfast.” + +“If I would! As often as you desire, my pretty young lady. Just give me +the time to boil an egg, and to roast a cutlet, and I’ll be up again.” + +Ordinarily sour-tempered, and as bitter as wormwood, Mrs. Chevassat had +displayed all the amiability of which she was capable, hiding under +a veil of tender sympathy the annoying eagerness of her eyes. Her +hypocrisy was all wasted. The efforts she made were too manifest not to +arouse the very worst suspicions. + +“I am sure,” thought Henrietta, “she is a bad woman.” + +Her suspicions were only increased when the worthy woman reappeared, +bringing her breakfast, and setting it out on a little table before the +fire, with all kinds of hideous compliments. + +“You’ll see how very well every thing is cooked, miss,” she said. + +Then, while Henrietta was eating, she sat down on a chair near the +door, and commenced talking, without ever stopping. To hear her, the +new tenant ought to thank her guardian angel who had brought her to this +charming house, No. 23 Water Street, where there was such a concierge +with such a wife!--he, the best of men; she, a real treasure of +kindness, gentleness, and, above all, discretion. + +“Quite an exceptional house,” she added, “as far as the tenants are +concerned. They are all people of notoriously high standing, from the +wealthy old ladies in the best story to Papa Ravinet in the fourth +story, and not excepting the young ladies who live in the small rooms in +the back building.” + +Then, having passed them all in review, she began praising M. de Brevan, +whom she always called M. Maxime. She declared that he had won her heart +from the beginning, when he had first come to the house, day before +yesterday, to engage the room. She had never seen a more perfect +gentleman, so kind, so polite, and so liberal! With her great +experience, she had at once recognized in him one of those men who +seem to be born expressly for the purpose of inspiring the most violent +passions, and of securing the most lasting attachments. + +Besides, she added with a hideous smile, she was sure of his deep +interest in her pretty new tenant; and she was so well convinced of +this, that she would be happy to devote herself to her service, even +without any prospect of payment. + +This did not prevent her from saying to Henrietta, as soon as she had +finished her breakfast,-- + +“You owe me two francs, miss; and, if you would like it, I can board you +for five francs a day.” + +Thereupon she went into a lively discussion to show that this would be +on her part a mere act of kindness, because, considering how dear every +thing was, she would most assuredly lose. + +But Henrietta stopped her. Drawing from her purse a twenty-franc piece, +she said,-- + +“Make yourself paid, madam.” + +This was evidently not what the estimable woman expected; for she drew +back with an air of offended dignity, and protested,-- + +“What do you take me to be, miss? Do you think me capable of asking for +payment?” + +And, shrugging her shoulders, she added,-- + +“Besides, does not all that regards your expenses concern M. Maxime?” + +Thereupon she quickly folded the napkin, took the plates, and +disappeared. Henrietta did not know what to think of it. She could not +doubt that this Megsera pursued some mysterious aim with all her foolish +talk; but she could not possibly guess what that aim could be. And still +that was not all that kept her thoughts busy. What frightened her +most of all was the feeling that she was evidently altogether at M. +de Brevan’s mercy. All her possessions amounted to about two hundred +francs. She was in want of every thing, of the most indispensable +articles: she had not another dress, nor another petticoat. Why had not +M. de Brevan thought of that beforehand? Was he waiting for her to tell +him of her distress, and to ask him for money? She could not think so, +and she attributed his neglect to his excitement, thinking that he would +no doubt come soon to ask how she was, and place himself at her service. + +But the day passed away slowly, and night came; but he did not appear. +What did this mean? What unforeseen event could have happened? +what misfortune could have befallen him? Torn by a thousand wild +apprehensions, Henrietta was more than once on the point of going to his +house. + +It was not before two o’clock on the next day that he appeared at last, +affecting an easy air, but evidently very much embarrassed. If he did +not come the night before, he said, it was because he was sure the +Countess Sarah had him watched. The flight of the daughter of Count +Ville-Handry was known all over Paris, and he was suspected of having +aided and abetted her: so they had told him, he said, at his club. He +also added that it would be imprudent in him to stay longer; and he +left again, without having said a word to Henrietta, and without having +apparently noticed her destitution. + +And thus, for three days, he only came, to disappear almost instantly. + +He always came painfully embarrassed, as if he had something very +important to tell her; then his brow clouded over; and he went away +suddenly, without having said any thing. + +Henrietta, tortured by terrible doubts, felt unable to endure this +atrocious uncertainty any longer. She determined to force an explanation +when, on the fourth day, M. de Brevan came in, evidently under the +influence of some terrible determination. As soon as he had entered, he +locked the door, and said in a hoarse voice,-- + +“I must speak to you, madam, yes, I must!” + +He was deadly pale; his white lips trembled; and his eyes shone with +a fearful light, like those of a man who might have sought courage in +strong drink. + +“I am ready to listen,” replied the poor girl, all trembling. + +He hesitated again for a moment; then overcoming his reluctance, +apparently by a great effort, he said,-- + +“Well, I wish to ask you if you have ever suspected what my real reasons +were for assisting you to escape?” + +“I think, sir, you have acted from kind pity for me, and also from +friendship for M. Daniel Champcey.” + +“No! You are entirely mistaken.” + +She drew back instinctively, uttering only a low, “Ah!” + +Pale as he had been, M. de Brevan had become crimson. + +“Have you really noticed nothing? Are you really not aware that I love +you?” + +She could understand any thing but this, the unfortunate girl; any thing +but such infamy, such an incredible insult! M. de Brevan must be either +drunk or mad. + +“Leave me, sir!” she said peremptorily, but with a voice trembling with +indignation. + +But he advanced towards her with open arms, and went on,-- + +“Yes, I love you madly, and for a long time,--ever since the first day I +saw you.” + +Henrietta, however, had swiftly moved aside, and opened the window. + +“If you advance another step, I shall cry for help.” + +He stopped, and, changing his tone, said to her,-- + +“Ah! You refuse? Well, what are you hoping for? For Daniel’s return? +Don’t you know that he loves Sarah?” + +“Ah! you abuse my forlorn condition infamously!” broke in the young +girl. And, as he still insisted, she added,-- + +“Why don’t you go, coward? Why don’t you go, wretched man? Must I call?” + +He was frightened, backed to the door, and half opened it; then he +said,-- + +“You refuse me to-day; but, before the month is over, you will beg me to +come to you. You are ruined; and I alone can rescue you.” + + + + +XVIII. + +At last, then, the truth had come out! + +Overcome with horror, her hair standing at an end, and shaken by nervous +spasms, poor Henrietta was trying to measure the depth of the abyss into +which she had thrown herself. + +Voluntarily, and with the simplicity of a child, she had walked into the +pit which had been dug for her. But who, in her place, would not have +trusted? Who could have conceived such an idea? Who could have suspected +such monstrous rascality? + +Ah! Now she understood but too well all the mysterious movements that +had so puzzled her in M. de Brevan. She saw how profound had been his +calculations when he recommended her so urgently not to take her jewels +with her while escaping from her father’s house, nor any object +of value; for, if she had had her jewelry, she would have been in +possession of a small fortune; she would have been independent, and +above want, at least for a couple of years. + +But M. de Brevan wanted her to have nothing. He knew, the coward! with +what crushing contempt she would reject his first proposals; but he +flattered himself with the hope that isolation, fear, destitution would +at last reduce her to submission, and enable him-- + +“It is too horrible,” repeated the poor girl,--“too horrible!” + +And this man had been Daniel’s friend! And it was he to whom Daniel, +at the moment of sailing, had intrusted his betrothed! What atrocious +deception! M. Thomas Elgin was no doubt a formidable bandit, faithless +and unscrupulous; but he was known as such: he was known to be capable +of any thing, and thus people were on their guard. But this man!--ah, a +thousand times meaner and viler!--he had watched for a whole year, with +smiling face, for the hour of treachery; he had prepared a hideous crime +under the veil of the noblest friendship! + +Henrietta thought she could divine what was the traitor’s final aim. +In obtaining possession of her, he no doubt thought he would secure to +himself a large portion of Count Ville-Handry’s immense fortune. + +And hence, she continued in her meditations, hence the hatred between +Sir Thorn and M. de Brevan. They both coveted the same thing; and each +one trembled lest the other should first get hold of the treasure which +he wanted to secure. The idea that the new countess was in complicity +with M. de Brevan did not enter Henrietta’s mind. On the contrary, she +thought they were enemies, and divided from each other by separate and +opposite interests. + +“Ah!” she said to herself, “they have one feeling, at all events, in +common; and that is hatred against me.” + +A few months ago, so fearful and so sudden a catastrophe would have +crushed Henrietta, in all probability. But she had endured so many blows +during the past year, that she bore this also; for it is a fact that the +human heart learns to bear grief as the body learns to endure fatigue. +Moreover, she called in to her assistance a light shining high above all +this terrible darkness,--the remembrance of Daniel. + +She had doubted him for an instant; but her faith had, after all, +remained intact and perfect. Her reason told her, that, if he had really +loved Sarah Brandon, her enemies, M. Elgin and M. de Brevan, would not +have taken such pains to make her believe it. She thought, therefore, +she was quite certain that he would return to her with his heart devoted +to her as when he left her. + +But, great God! to think of the grief and the rage of this man, when he +should hear how wickedly and cowardly he had been betrayed by the man +whom he called his friend! He would know how to restore the count’s +daughter to her proper position, and how to avenge her. + +“And I shall wait for him,” she said, her teeth firmly set,--“I shall +wait for him!” + +How? She did not ask herself that question; for she was yet in that +first stage of enthusiasm, when we are full of heroic resolves which do +not allow us to see the obstacles that are to be overcome. But she +soon learned to know the first difficulties in her way, thanks to Dame +Chevassat, who brought her her dinner as the clock struck six, according +to the agreement they had made. + +The estimable lady had assumed a deeply grieved expression; you might +have sworn she had tears in her eyes. In her sweetest voice, she +asked:-- + +“Well, well, my beautiful young lady; so you have quarrelled with our +dear M. Maxime?” + +Henrietta was so sure of the uselessness of replying, and so fearful of +new dangers, that she simply replied,-- + +“Yes, madam.” + +“I was afraid of it,” replied the woman, “just from seeing him come down +the stairs with a face as long as that. You see, he is in love with you, +that kind young man; and you may believe me when I tell you so, for I +know what men are.” + +She expected an answer; for generally her eloquence was very effective +with her tenants. But, as no reply came, she went on,-- + +“We must hope that the trouble will blow over.” + +“No!” + +Looking at Mrs. Chevassat, one would have thought she was stunned. + +“How savage you are!” she exclaimed at last. “Well, it is your lookout. +Only I should like to know what you mean to do?” + +“About what?” + +“Why, about your board.” + +“I shall find the means, madam, you may be sure.” + +The old woman, however, who knew from experience what that cruel word, +“living,” sometimes means with poor forsaken girls, shook her head +seriously, and answered,-- + +“So much the better; so much the better! Only I know you owe a good deal +of money.” + +“Owe?” + +“Why, yes! The furniture here has never been paid for.” + +“What? The furniture”-- + +“Of course, M. Maxime was going to pay for it; he has told me so. But if +you fall out in this way--you understand, don’t you?” + +She hardly did understand such fearful infamy. Still Henrietta did not +show her indignation and surprise. She asked,-- + +“What did the furniture of this room cost? do you know?” + +“I don’t know. Something like five or six hundred francs, things are so +dear now!” The whole was probably not worth a hundred and fifty or two +hundred francs. + +“Very well. I’ll pay,” said Henrietta. “The man will give me forty- +eight hours’ time, I presume?” + +“Oh, certainly!” + +As the poor girl was now quite sure that this honeyed Megsera was +employed by M. de Brevan to watch her, she affected a perfectly calm +air. When she had finished her dinner, she even insisted upon paying +on the spot fifty francs, which she owed for the last few days, and for +some small purchases. But, when the old woman was gone, she sank into a +chair, and said,-- + +“I am lost!” + +There was, in fact, no refuge for her, no help to be expected. + +Should she return to her father, and implore the pity of his wife? +Ah! death itself would be more tolerable than such a humiliation. And +besides, in escaping from M. de Brevan, would she not fall into the +hands of M. Elgin? + +Should she seek assistance at the hands of some of the old family +friends? But which? + +In greater distress than the shipwrecked man who in vain examines the +blank horizon, she looked around for some one to help her. She forced +her mind to recall all the people she had ever known. Alas! she knew, +so to say, nobody. Since her mother had died, and she had been living +alone, no one seemed to have remembered her, unless for the purpose of +calumniating her. + +Her only friends, the only ones who had made her cause their own, +the Duke and the Duchess of Champdoce, were in Italy, as she had been +assured. + +“I can count upon nobody but myself,” she repeated,--“myself, myself!” + +Then rousing herself, she said, her heart swelling with emotion,-- + +“But never mind! I shall be saved!” + +Her safety depended upon one single point: if she could manage to live +till she came of age, or till Daniel returned, all was right. + +“Is it really so hard to live?” she thought. “The daughters of poor +people, who are as completely forsaken as I am, nevertheless live. Why +should not I live also?” + +Why? + +Because the children of poor people have served, so to say, from the +cradle, an apprenticeship of poverty,--because they are not afraid of a +day without work, or a day without bread,--because cruel experience has +armed them for the struggle,--because, in fine, they know life, and they +know Paris,--because their industry is adapted to their wants, and +they have an innate capacity to obtain some advantage from every thing, +thanks to their smartness, their enterprise, and their energy. + +But Count Ville-Handry’s only daughter--the heiress of many millions, +brought up, so to say, in a hothouse, according to the stupid custom of +modern society--knew nothing at all of life, of its bitter realities, +its struggles, and its sufferings. She had nothing but courage. + +“That is enough,” she said to herself. “What we will do, we can do.” + +Thus resolved to seek aid from no one, she set to work examining her +condition and her resources. + +As to objects of any value, she owned the cashmere which she had +wrapped around her when she fled, the dressing-case in her mother’s +travelling-bag, a brooch, a watch, a pair of pretty ear-rings, and, +lastly, two rings, which by some lucky accident she had forgotten to +take off, one of which was of considerable value. All this, she thought, +must have cost, at least, eight or nine thousand francs; but for how +much would it sell? since she was resolved to sell it. This was the +question on which her whole future depended. + +But how could she dispose of these things? She wanted to have it all +settled, so as to get rid of this sense of uncertainty; she wanted, +especially, to pay for the scanty, wretched furniture in her chamber. +Whom could she ask to help her? For nothing in the world would she have +confided in Mrs. Chevassat; for her instincts told her, that, if she +once let that terrible woman see what were her necessities, she would +be bound hand and foot to her. She was thinking it out, when the idea +of the pawnbroker occurred to her. She had heard such men spoken of; but +she only knew that they kept places where poor people could get money +upon depositing a pledge. + +“That is the place I must go to,” Henrietta said to herself. + +But how was she to find one? + +“Well, I’ll find it some way,” she said. + +So she went down, to Mrs. Chevassat’s great astonishment, but without +answering her questions, where she was going to in such a hurry. + +Having turned at the first corner, she went on at haphazard, walking +quite rapidly, and not minding the passers-by, entirely occupied in +looking at the houses and the sign-boards. But for more than an hour she +wandered thus through all the small streets and alleys in those suburbs; +she found nothing, and it was getting dark. + +“And still I won’t go home till I have found it,” she said to herself +wrathfully. + +This resolution gave her courage to go up to a policeman, and, crimson +like a poppy, to ask him,-- + +“Will you be so kind, sir, as to tell me a pawnbroker’s shop?” + +The man looked with pity at the young girl, whose whole person exhaled +a perfume of distinction and of candor, asking himself, perhaps, what +terrible misfortune could have reduced a lady like her to such a step; +then he answered with a sigh,-- + +“There, madam, at the corner of the first street on the right, you will +find a loan office.” + +“Loan office?” These words suggested to Henrietta no clear idea. But it +mattered not. She went on in feverish haste, recognized the house that +had been pointed out to her, went up stairs, and, pushing open a door, +found herself in a large room, where some twenty people were standing +about, waiting. + +On the right hand three or four clerks, shut off from the public by a +railing breast-high, were writing down the names of the depositors, and +counting out money. Far back, a large opening was visible, where another +clerk appeared from time to time, to take in the articles that were +pawned. After waiting for five minutes, and without asking a question +from anybody, Henrietta understood the whole process. Trembling as if +she had committed a crime, she went to the opening behind, and put +upon the ledge one of her rings, the most valuable of the two. Then she +waited, not daring to look up; for it seemed to her as if all eyes were +upon her. + +“One diamond ring!” cried the clerk. “Nine hundred francs. Whose is it?” + +The large amount caused all to look around; and a big woman, but too +well dressed, and with a very impudent expression, said,-- + +“Oh, oh! The damsel dresses well!” + +Crimson with shame, Henrietta had stepped up. She whispered,-- + +“It is my ring, sir.” + +The clerk looked at her, and then asked quite gently,-- + +“You have your papers?” + +“Papers? What for?” + +“The papers that establish your identity. Your passport, a receipt for +rent, or any thing.” + +The whole company laughed at the ignorance of this girl. She stammered +out,-- + +“I have no such papers, sir.” + +“Then we can make no advance.” + +One more hope, her last, vanished thus. She held out her hand, saying,-- + +“Please give me back my ring.” + +But the clerk now laughed, and replied,-- + +“No, no, my dear! that can’t be done. You shall have it back when you +bring me the papers, or when you come accompanied by two merchants who +are known to us.” + +“But, sir”-- + +“That is so.” + +And, finding that he had lost time enough, he went on,-- + +“One velvet cloak! Thirty francs. Whose is it?” + +Henrietta was rushing out, and down the stairs, pursued, as it seemed to +her, by the cries of the crowd. How that clerk had looked at her! Did he +think she had stolen the ring? And what was to become of it? The police +would inquire; they would trace her out; and she would be carried back +to her father’s house, and given up to Sir Thorn. She could hardly +keep up until she reached Water Street; and there fatigue, fright, +and excitement made her forget her resolutions. She confessed her +discomfiture to Mrs. Chevassat. + +The honest woman tried to look as grave as an attorney whom a great +client consults, who has unwittingly stirred up a wasps’ nest; and, when +her tenant had finished, she said in a voice apparently half drowned in +tears,-- + +“Poor little kitten, poor little innocent kitten!” + +But, if she succeeded in giving to her face an expression of sincere +sympathy, the greedy look in her eyes betrayed but too clearly her +immense satisfaction at seeing Henrietta at last at her feet. + +“After all,” she said, “you are prodigiously lucky in your misfortunes; +for you are too imprudent in all conscience.” + +And, as the poor girl was not a little astonished at this, she went +on,-- + +“Yes, you ran a great risk; and I can easily prove it to you. Who are +you? Well, you need not turn pale that way: I don’t ask any questions. +But after all, if you carry your jewels yourself to the ‘Uncle,’ you go, +so to say, and rush right into the lion’s mouth. If they had arrested +you when they saw you had no papers; if they had carried you before a +magistrate--eh? Ah! my beautiful friend, you would have fared pretty +badly, I dare say.” + +And then, changing her tone, she began scolding her beautiful young lady +for having concealed her troubles from her. That was wrong; that hurt +her feelings. Why had she given her money last night? Did she ask for +money? Did she look like such a terrible creditor? She knew, God be +thanked! what life was here below, and that we are bound to help one +another. To be sure, there was that furniture dealer, who must be paid; +but she would have been quite willing to make him wait; and why should +he not? She had got very different people to wait! Why, only last week, +she had sent one of those men away, and a dressmaker into the bargain, +who came to levy upon one of her tenants in the back building,--the very +nicest, and prettiest, and best of them all. + +Thus she discoursed and discoursed with amazing volubility, till at +last, when she thought she had made a sufficiently strong impression on +her “poor little pussy-cat,” she said,-- + +“But one can easily see, my dear young lady, that you are a mere child. +Sell your poor little jewels! Why, that is murder, as long as there is +some one at hand quite ready to do any thing for you.” + +At this sudden, but not altogether unexpected attack, Henrietta +trembled. + +“For I am sure,” continued Mrs. Chevassat, “if it were only to be +agreeable to you, he would give one of his arms, this poor M. Maxime.” + +Henrietta looked so peremptorily at her, that the worthy lady seemed to +be quite disconcerted. + +“I forbid you,” cried the young lady, with a voice trembling with +indignation,--“I forbid you positively ever to mention his name!” + +The woman shrugged her shoulders. + +“As you like it,” she answered. + +And then, ready to change the conversation, she added,-- + +“Well, then, let us return to your ring. What _do_ you propose to do?” + +“That is exactly why I came to you,” replied Henrietta. “I do not know +what is to be done in such a case.” + +Mrs. Chevassat smiled, very much pleased. + +“And you did very well to come to us,” she said. + +“Chevassat will go, take the charcoal-dealer and the grocer next door +with him; and before going to bed you will have your money, I promise +you! You see he understands pretty well how to make the clerks do their +duty, my Chevassat.” + +That evening the excellent man really condescended to go up stairs, and +to bring Henrietta himself eight hundred and ninety-five francs. + +He did not bring the whole nine hundred francs, he said; for, having +put his two neighbors to some inconvenience, he was bound, according +to established usage, to invite them to take something. For himself, +he had, of course, kept nothing,--oh, nothing at all! He could take his +oath upon that; for he preferred by far leaving that little matter to +the beautiful young lady’s liberality. + +“Here are ten francs,” said Henrietta curtly, in order to make an end to +his endless talk. + +Thus, with the few gold-pieces which she had found in her purse, the +poor girl had a capital of about a thousand francs in hand. How many +days, how many months, this sum would have secured to her, if the +furniture-dealer had not been there with his bill! He did not fail to +present himself next day, accompanied by Mrs. Chevassat. He asked for +five hundred and seventy-nine francs. Such a sum for a few second-hand +pieces of furniture which adorned that wretched garret! It was a clear +swindle, and the impudence so great, that Henrietta was overwhelmed. But +still she paid. + +When he was gone, she sadly counted from one hand into the other +the twenty-three gold-pieces that were left, when suddenly a thought +occurred to her, that might have saved her, if she had followed it out. + +It was the thought of leaving the house by stealth, of going to the +station of the Orleans Railway, and of taking the first train for the +home of Daniel’s aunt. Alas! she was content with writing to her, and +remained. + + + + +XIX. + +This inspiration was, moreover, to be the last favor which Providence +vouchsafed to Henrietta,--an opportunity which, once allowed to pass, +never returns. From that moment she found herself irrevocably insnared +in a net which tightened day by day more around her, and held her a +helpless captive. She had vowed to herself, the unfortunate girl, that +she would economize her little hoard like the blood in her veins. But +how could she economize? + +She was without every thing. When M. de Brevan had gone to engage +this garret-room, he had thought of nothing; or rather (and such a +calculation was quite in keeping with his cold-blooded rascality) he had +taken his measures so that his victim must soon be in utter destitution. +Without any other clothes than those she wore on the night of her +flight, she had no linen, no shoes, not a towel even to wipe her hands, +unless she borrowed them from her friend down stairs. + +Accustomed as she was to all the comforts of boundless wealth, and to +all the refinements of cleanliness, these privations became to her a +genuine martyrdom. Thus she spent in a variety of small purchases more +than a hundred and fifty francs. The sum was enormous at a time when +she could already count the days to the hour when she would be without +bread. In addition to that she had to pay Mrs. Chevassat five francs a +day for her board. Five francs were another enormous sum which troubled +her grievously; for she would have been quite willing to live on +bread and water. But in that direction she thought no economizing was +possible. + +One evening she had hinted at the necessity of retrenching, when Mrs. +Chevassat had shot at her a venomous glance, which pierced her to the +very marrow of her bones. + +“It must be done,” she said to herself. + +In her mind she felt as if the five francs were a kind of daily ransom +which she paid the estimable concierge’s wife for her good-will. It +is true, that, for such a consideration, the terrible woman was all +attention for her “poor little pussy-cat;” for thus she had definitely +dubbed Henrietta, becoming daily more familiar, and adding this odious +and irritating presumption to all the other tortures of the poor girl. +Many a time poor Henrietta had been made so indignant and furious, +that she had been on the point of rebelling; but she had never dared, +submitting to this familiarity for the same reason for which she +paid her five francs every day. The old woman, taking her silence for +consent, put no longer any restraint upon herself. She declared she +could not comprehend how her “little pussy-cat,” young and pretty as she +was, could consent to live as she did. Was that a life? + +Then she always came back to M. Maxime, who continued to call regularly +twice a day, the poor young man! + +“And more than that, poor little pussy,” she added, “you will see that +one of these days he will summon courage enough to come and offer you an +apology.” + +But Henrietta would not believe that. + +“He will never have such consummate impudence,” she thought. + +He had it, nevertheless. One morning, when she had just finished +righting up her room, somebody knocked discreetly, at her door. Thinking +that it was Mrs. Chevassat, who brought her her breakfast, she went to +the door and opened it, without asking who was there. And she started +back with amazement and with terror when she recognized M. de Brevan. + +It really looked as if he were making a supreme effort over himself. He +was deadly pale; his lips trembled; his eyes looked dim and uncertain; +and he moved his lips and jaws as if he had gravel in his mouth. + +“I have come, madam,” he said, “to ask if you have reconsidered.” + +She made no reply, looking at him with an air of contempt which would +have caused a man with some remnant of honor in his heart to flee from +the spot instantly. But he had, no doubt, armed himself beforehand, +against contempt. + +“I know,” he continued, “that my conduct must appear abominable in +your eyes. I have led you into this snare, and I have meanly betrayed a +friend’s confidence; but I have an excuse. My passion is stronger than +my will, than my reason.” + +“A vile passion for money!” + +“You may think so, madam, if you choose. I shall not even attempt to +clear myself. That is not what I came for. I came solely for the purpose +of enlightening you in regard to your own position, which you do not +seem to realize.” + +If she had followed her own impulses, Henrietta would have driven the +wretch away. But she thought she ought to know his intentions and his +plans. She overcame her disgust, therefore, and remained silent. + +“In the first place,” said M. de Brevan, apparently trying to collect +his thoughts, “bear this in mind, madam. You are ruined in reputation, +and ruined through me. All Paris is convinced, by this time, that I have +run away with you; and that I keep you concealed in a charming place, +where we enjoy our mutual love; in fact, that you are my mistress.” + +He seemed to expect an explosion of wrath. By no means! Henrietta +remained motionless like a statue. + +“What would you have?” he went on in a tone of sarcasm. “My coachman has +been talking. Two friends of mine, who reached the palace on foot when +I drove up, saw you jump into my _coupe_; and, as if that had not been +enough, that absurd M. Elgin must needs call me out. We had a duel, and +I have wounded him.” + +The manner in which the young girl shrugged her shoulders showed but too +clearly that she did not believe M. de Brevan. He added,-- + +“If you doubt it, madam, pray read this, then, at the top of the second +column.” + +She took the paper which he offered her, and there she read,-- + + +“Yesterday, in the woods near Vincennes, a duel with swords was fought +between M. M. de B---- and one of the most distinguished members of our +American colony. After five minutes’ close combat, M. E---- was wounded +in the arm. It is said that the sudden and very surprising disappearance +of one of the greatest heiresses of the Faubourg Saint Germain was not +foreign to this duel. Lucky M. de B---- is reported to know too much of +the beautiful young lady’s present home for the peace of the family. +But surely these lines ought to be more than enough on the subject of +an adventure which will ere long, no doubt, end in a happy and brilliant +marriage.” + + +“You see, madam,” said M. de Brevan, when he thought Henrietta had +had time enough to read the article, “you see it is not I who advise +marriage. If you will become my wife, your honor is safe.” + +“Ah, sir!” + +In that simple utterance there was so much contempt, and such profound +disgust, that M. de Brevan seemed to turn, if possible, whiter than +before. + +“Ah! I see you prefer marrying M. Thomas Elgin,” he said. + +She only shrugged her shoulders; but he went on,-- + +“Oh, do not smile! He or I; you have no other alternative. Sooner or +later you will have to choose.” + +“I shall not choose, sir.” + +“Oh, just wait till poverty has come! Then you think, perhaps, you will +only need to implore your father to come to your assistance. Do not +flatter yourself. Your father has no other will but that of the Countess +Sarah; and the Countess Sarah will have it so, that you marry Sir +Thorn.” + +“I shall not appeal to my father, sir.” + +“Then you probably count upon Daniel’s return? Ah, believe me! do not +indulge in such dreams. I have told you Daniel loves the Countess Sarah; +and, even if he did not love her, you have been too publicly disgraced +for him ever to give you his name. But that is nothing yet. Go to the +navy department, and they will tell you that ‘The Conquest’ is out on a +cruise of two years more. At the time when Daniel returns, if he returns +at all (which is very far from being certain), you will long since have +become Mrs. Elgin or Madame de Brevan, unless”-- + +Henrietta looked at him so fixedly, that he could not bear the glance; +and then she said in a deep voice,-- + +“Unless I die! did you not mean that? Be it so.” + +Coldly M. de Brevan bowed, as if he intended to say,-- + +“Yes, unless you should be dead: that was what I meant.” + +Then, opening the door, he added,-- + +“Let me hope, madam, that this is not your last word. I shall, however, +have the honor of calling every week to receive your orders.” + +And, bowing, he left the room. + +“What brought him here, the wretch! What does he want of me?” + +Thus she questioned herself as soon as she was alone, and the door was +‘shut.’ And her anguish increased tenfold; for she did not believe a +word of the pretexts which M. de Brevan had assigned for his visit. No, +she could not admit that he had come to see if she had reflected, nor +that he really cherished that abominable hope, that misery, hunger, and +fear would drive her into his arms. + +“He ought to know me well enough,” she thought with a new access of +wrath, “to be sure that I would prefer death a thousand times.” + +There was no doubt in her mind that this step, which had evidently +been extremely painful to himself, had become necessary through some +all-powerful consideration. But what could that be? By a great effort +of mind Henrietta recalled, one by one, all the phrases used by M. +de Brevan, in the hope that some word might give her light; but she +discovered nothing. All he had told her as to the consequences of her +flight, she had foreseen before she had resolved to escape. He had told +her nothing new, but his duel with Sir Thorn; and, when she considered +the matter, she thought that, also, quite natural. For did they not both +covet with equal eagerness the fortune which she would inherit from her +mother as soon as she came of age? The antagonism of their interests +explained, she thought, their hatred; for she was well convinced that +they hated each other mortally. The idea that Sir Thorn and M. de Brevan +understood each other, and pursued a common purpose, never entered her +mind; and, if it had suggested itself, she would have rejected it as +absurd. + +Must she, then, come to the conclusion that M. de Brevan had really, +when he appeared before her, no other aim but to drive her to despair? +But why should he do so? what advantage would that be to him? The man +who wants to make a girl his own does not go to work to chill her with +terror, and to inspire her with ineffable disgust. Still M. de Brevan +had done this; and therefore he must aim at something different from +that marriage of which he spoke. + +What was that something? Such abominable things are not done for the +mere pleasure of doing them, especially if that involves some amount of +danger. Now, it was very clear, that upon Daniel’s return, whether he +still loved Henrietta or not, M. de Brevan would have a terrible account +to give to that brave sailor who had trusted him with the care of his +betrothed. Did M. de Brevan ever think of that return? Oh, yes! he did; +and with secret terror. There was proof of that in one of the phrases +that had escaped him. + +After having said, “When Daniel returns,” he had added, “if he ever +returns, which is by no means sure.” + +Why this proviso? Had he any reasons to think that Daniel might perish +in this dangerous campaign? Now she remembered, yes, she remembered +distinctly, that M. de Brevan had smiled in a very peculiar way when he +had said these words. And, as she recalled this, her heart sank within +her, and she felt as if she were going to faint. Was he not capable of +anything, the wretched man, who had betrayed him so infamously,--capable +even of arming an assassin? + +“Oh, I must warn Daniel!” she exclaimed, “I must warn him, and not lose +a minute.” + +And, although she had written him a long letter only the day before, she +wrote again, begging him to be watchful, to mistrust everybody, because +most assuredly his life was threatened. And this letter she carried +herself to the post-office, convinced as she was that to confide it to +Mrs. Chevassat would have been the same as to send it to M. de Brevan. + +It was astonishing, however, how the estimable lady seemed to become day +by day more attached to Henrietta, and how expansive and demonstrative +her affections grew. At all hours of the day, and on the most trivial +pretexts, she would come up, sit down, and for entire hours entertain +her with her intolerable speeches. She did not put any restraint upon +herself any longer, but talked “from the bottom of her heart” with +her “dear little pussy-cat,” as if she had been her own daughter. +The strange doctrines at which she had formerly only hinted, she now +proclaimed without reserve, boasting of an open kind of cynicism, which +betrayed a terrible moral perversity. It looked as if the horrible +Megsera had been deputed by Henrietta’s enemies for the special purpose +of demoralizing and depraving her, if possible, and to drive her into +the brilliant and easy life of sin in which so many unhappy women +perish. + +Fortunately, in this case, the messenger was ill-chosen. The eloquence +of Mrs. Chevassat, which very likely would have inflamed the imagination +of some poor but ambitious girl, caused nothing but disgust in +Henrietta’s heart. She had gotten into the habit of thinking of other +things while the old woman was holding forth; and her noble soul floated +off to regions where these vulgarities could reach her no more. + +Her life was, nevertheless, a very sad one. She never went out, spending +her days in her chamber, reading, or working at a great embroidery, a +masterpiece of patience and taste, which she had undertaken with a faint +hope that it might become useful in case of distress. But a new source +of trouble roused her soon after from this dull monotony. Her money +grew less and less; and at last the day came when she changed the last +gold-piece of her nine hundred francs. It became urgent to resort once +more to the pawnbroker; for these were the first days of April, and the +honeyed words of Mrs. Chevassat had given her to understand that she had +better get ready to pay on the 8th her rent, which amounted to a hundred +francs. + +She intrusted therefore to the concierge the remaining ring to be +pawned. Calculating from the sum she had received for the first ring, +she hoped to obtain for this one, at the very least, five or six hundred +francs. + +The concierge brought her one hundred and ninety francs. + +At first, she was convinced the man had robbed her; and she gave him +to understand that she thought so. But he showed her the receipt in a +perfect rage. + +“Look there,” he said, “and remember to whom you are talking!” + +On the receipt she read in fact these words: “Advanced, two hundred +francs.” Convinced of the injustice of her accusations, Henrietta had to +make her apologies, and hardly succeeded by means of a ten-franc-piece +in soothing the man’s wounded feelings. + +Alas! the poor girl did not know that one is always at liberty to pledge +an article only for a given sum, a part of its real value; and she was +too inexperienced in such matters to notice the reference to that mode +of pawning on her receipt. However, it was one of those mishaps for poor +Henrietta which cannot be mended, and from which we never recover. She +lost two months’ existence, the very time, perhaps, that was needed till +Daniel’s return. Still the day when the rent was due came, and she paid +her hundred francs. The second day after that, she was once more without +money, and, according to Mrs. Chevassat’s elegant expression, forced +to “live on her poor possessions.” But the pawnbroker had too cruelly +disappointed her calculations: she would not resort to him again, and +risk a second disappointment. + +This time she thought she would, instead of pawning, sell, her gold- +dressing-case; and she requested the obliging lady below to procure her +a purchaser. At first Mrs. Chevassat raised a host of objections. + +“To sell such a pretty toy!” she said, “it’s murder! Just think, you’ll +never see it again. If, on the other hand, you carry it to ‘Uncle’ you +can take it out again as soon as you have a little money.” + +But she lost her pains, she saw and at last consented to bring up a kind +of dealer in toilet-articles, an excellent honest man, she declared, in +whom one could put the most absolute confidence. And he really showed +himself worthy of her warm recommendation; for he offered instantly five +hundred francs for the dressing-case, which was not worth much more +than three times as much. Nor was this his last bid. After an hour’s +irritating discussions, after having ten times pretended to leave the +room, he drew with many sighs his _portemonnaie_ from its secret home, +and counted upon the table the seven hundred francs in gold upon which +Henrietta had stoutly insisted. + +That was enough to pay Mrs. Chevassat for four months’ board. + +“But no,” said the poor young girl to herself, “that would be +pusillanimous in the highest degree.” + +And that very evening she summoned all her courage, and told the +formidable woman in a firm tone of voice, that henceforth she would only +take one meal, dinner. She had chosen this half-way measure in order +not to avoid a scene, for that she knew she could not hope for, but a +regular falling-out. + +Contrary to all expectations, the concierge’s wife appeared neither +surprised nor angry. She only shrugged her shoulders as she said,-- + +“As you like, my ‘little pussy-cat.’ Only believe me, it is no use +economizing in one’s eating.” + +From the day of this _coup d’etat_, Henrietta went down every morning +herself to buy her penny-roll and the little supply of milk which +constituted her breakfast. For the rest of the day she did not leave her +room, busying herself with her great work; and nothing broke in upon the +distressing monotony of her life but the weekly visits of M. de Brevan. + +For he did not forget his threat; and every week Henrietta was sure to +see him come. He came in with a solemn air, and coldly asked if she had +reflected since he had had the honor of presenting his respects to her. +She did not answer him ordinarily, except by a look of contempt; but +he did not seem in the least disconcerted. He bowed respectfully, and +invariably said, before leaving the room,-- + +“Next time, then; I can wait. Oh! I have time; I can wait.” + +If he hoped thus to conquer Henrietta more promptly, he was entirely +mistaken. This periodical insult acted only as an inducement to keep up +her wrath and to increase her energy. Her pride rose at the thought of +this unceasing struggle; and she swore that she would be victorious. +It was this sentiment which inspired her with a thought, which, in its +results, was destined to have a decisive influence on her future. + +It was now the end of June, and she saw with trembling her little +treasure grow smaller and smaller; when one day she asked Mrs. +Chevassat, who seemed to be of unusually good-humor, if she could +not procure her some work. She told her that she was considered quite +skilful in all kinds of needlework. + +But the woman laughed at the first words, and said,-- + +“Leave me alone! Are hands like yours made to work?” + +And when Henrietta insisted, and showed her, as a proof of what she +could do, the embroidery which she had commenced, she replied,-- + +“That is very pretty; but embroidering from morning till night would not +enable a fairy to keep a canary-bird.” + +There was probably some truth in what she said, exaggerated as it +sounded; and the poor girl hastened to add that she understood other +kinds of work also. She was a first-class musician, for instance, and +fully able to give music-lessons, or teach singing, if she could only +get pupils. At these words a ray of diabolic satisfaction lighted up the +old woman’s eyes; and she cried out,-- + +“What, my ‘pussy-cat,’ could you play dancing-music, like those artists +who go to the large parties of fashionable people?” + +“Certainly!” + +“Well, that is a talent worth something! Why did you not tell me before? +I will think of it, and you shall see.” + +On the next Saturday, early in the morning, she appeared in Henrietta’s +room with the bright face of a bearer of good news. + +“I have thought of you,” she said as soon as she entered. + +“Ah!” + +“We have a tenant in the house who is going to give a large party +to-night. I have mentioned you to her; and she says she will give you +thirty francs if you will make her guests jump. Thirty francs! That’s a +big sum; and besides, if they are pleased, you will get more customers.” + +“In what part of the house does she live?” + +“In the second story of the back building, looking upon the yard. Mrs. +Hilaire, a very nice person, and so good! there is no one like her. You +would have to be there at nine o’clock precisely.” + +“I’ll come.” + +Quite happy, and full of hope, Henrietta spent a part of the afternoon +in mending her only dress, a black silk dress, much worn unfortunately, +and already often repaired. Still, by much skill and patience, she +had managed to look quite respectable when she rang the bell at Mrs. +Hilaire’s door. She was shown into a room furnished with odd furniture, +but brilliantly lighted, in which seven or eight ladies in flaming +costumes, and as many fashionable gentlemen, were smoking and taking +coffee. Both ladies and gentlemen had just risen from table; there was +no mistaking it from their eyes and the sound of their voices. + +“Look! there is the musician from the garret!” exclaimed a large, +dark-skinned woman, pretty, but very vulgar, who seemed to be Mrs. +Hilaire. + +And, turning to Henrietta, she asked,-- + +“Will you take a little glass of something, my darling?” + +The poor girl blushed crimson, and, painfully embarrassed, declined, and +asked pardon for declining; when the lady broke in rather rudely, and +said,-- + +“You are not thirsty? Very well. You’ll drink after some time. In the +meantime will you play us a quadrille? and mark the time, please.” + +Then imitating with distressing accuracy the barking voice of masters of +ceremonies at public balls, she called out,-- + +“Take your positions, take your positions: a quadrille!” + +Henrietta had taken her seat at the piano. She turned her back to the +dancers; but she had before her a mirror, in which she saw every gesture +of Mrs. Hilaire and her guests. And then she became quite sure of what +she had suspected from the beginning. She understood into what company +she had been inveigled by the concierge’s wife. She had, however, +sufficient self-control to finish the quadrille. But, when the last +figure had been danced, she rose; and, walking up to the mistress of the +house, said, stammering painfully, and in extreme embarrassment,-- + +“Please excuse me, madam, I have to leave. I feel very unwell. I could +not play any more.” + +“How funny!” cried one of the gentlemen. “Here is our ball at an end!” + +But the young woman said,-- + +“Hush, Julius! Don’t you see how pale she is,--pale like death, the poor +child! What is the matter with you, darling? Is it the heat that makes +you feel badly? It is stifling hot here.” + +And, when Henrietta was at the door, she said,-- + +“Oh, wait! I do not trouble people for nothing. Come, Julius, turn your +pockets inside out, and give the little one a twenty-franc-piece.” + +The poor girl was almost outside, when she turned, and said,-- + +“Thank you, madam; but you owe me nothing.” + +It was high time for Henrietta to leave. Her first surprise had been +followed by mad anger, which drove the blood to her head, and made her +weep bitter tears. She knew now that Mrs. Chevassat had caught her in +this trap. What could the wretched woman have meant? + +Carried away by an irresistible impulse, and no longer mistress of +herself, Henrietta rushed down stairs, and broke like a whirlwind into +the little box of the concierge, crying out,-- + +“How could you dare to send me to such people? You knew all about it. +You are a wretch!” + +Master Chevassat was the first to rise, and said,-- + +“What is the matter? Do you know to whom you are talking?” + +But his wife interrupted him with a gesture, and, turning to Henrietta, +said with cynic laughter,-- + +“Well, what next? Are these people not good enough for you; eh? In the +first place, I am tired of your ways, my ‘pussy-cat.’ When one is a +beggar, as you are, one stays at home like a good girl; and one does not +run away with a young man, and gad about the world with lovers.” + +Thereupon she took advantage of the fact that Henrietta had paused +upon the threshold, to push her brutally out of the room at the risk of +throwing her down, and fiercely banged the door. An hour afterwards the +poor girl vehemently reproached herself for her passion. + +“Alas!” she said to herself, weeping, “the weak, the unhappy, have +no right to complain. Who knows what this wicked woman will now do to +avenge herself?” + +She found it out the second day afterwards. + +Coming down a little before seven o’clock, in order to buy her roll and +her milk for breakfast, she met at the entrance-door Mrs. Hilaire, face +to face. At the sight of the poor girl, that irascible woman turned as +red as a poppy, and, rushing up to her, seized her by the arm, and shook +it furiously, crying out at the same time with the full force of her +lungs,-- + +“Ah, it is you, miserable beggar, who go and tell stories on me! Oh, +what wickedness! A beggar whom I had sent for to allow her to earn +thirty francs! And I must needs think she is sick, and pity her, and ask +Julius to give her a twenty-franc-piece.” + +Henrietta felt that she ought not to blame this woman, who, after all, +had shown her nothing but kindness. But she was thoroughly frightened, +and tried to get away. The woman, however, held her fast, and cried +still louder, till several tenants came to the open windows. + +“They’ll make you pay for that, my darling,” she yelled, amid foul +oaths, which her wrath carried along with it, as a torrent floats down +stones and debris. “They’ll make you pay for it! You’ll have to clear +out of here, I tell you!” + +And the threat was not an idle one. That very afternoon the same +lamentable scene was repeated; and so it went on every morning and every +day. Mrs. Hilaire had friends in the house, who took up the quarrel, and +fell upon Henrietta whenever she appeared. They lay in wait for her by +turns; and she no sooner ventured upon the staircase than the shouts +began; so that the unfortunate girl no longer dared leave the house. +Early in the morning, as soon as the door was opened, she ran out to buy +her daily provisions; then, running up swiftly, she barricaded herself +in her chamber, and never stirred out again. + +Surely, there was no lack of desire on her part to leave the house. But +where should she go? Besides, the unknown frightened her; might it not +have still greater terrors in reserve for her? + +At last she was entirely without money. + +In July her rent had cost her a hundred francs, and she had been +compelled to buy a dress in place of her merino dress, which was +falling to pieces. In the first days of August she was at the end of her +resources. Nor would she have been able to make them last so long, even +if she had not, ever since that evening at Mrs. Hilaire’s, done entirely +without the expensive board of Mrs. Chevassat. Even this rupture, at +which Henrietta had at first rejoiced, became now to her a source of +overwhelming trouble. She had still a few things that she might sell,--a +brooch, her cashmere, her watch, and her ear-rings; but she did not know +how and to whom she could sell them. + +All the stories by which the wicked woman down stairs had tried to +frighten her from going herself to the pawnbroker came back to her +mind; and she saw herself, at the first attempt, arrested by the police, +examined, and carried back to her father, handed over to Sarah and Sir +Thorn, and-- + +Still want pressed her hard; and at last, after long hesitation, one +evening, at dark, she slipped out to find a purchaser. What she was +looking for was one of those dark little shops in which men lie in wait +for their prey, whom the police always suspects, and carefully watches. +She found one such as she desired. An old woman with spectacles on her +nose, without even asking her name, and evidently taking her to be a +thief, gave her, for her brooch and her ear-rings, a hundred and forty +francs. + +What was this sum of money? A nothing; Henrietta understood that +perfectly. And hence, overcoming all her reserve and her reluctance, she +vowed she would try every thing in her power to obtain work. + +She kept her word, sustained by a secret hope of triumphing, by dint of +energy and perseverance, over fate itself. She went from store to store, +from door to door, so to say, soliciting employment, as she would have +asked for alms, promising to do any thing that might be wanted, in +return merely for her board and lodging. But it was written that every +thing should turn against her. Her beauty, her charms, her distinguished +appearance, her very manner of speaking, were so many obstacles in her +way. Who could think of engaging a girl as a servant, who looked like a +duchess? So that all her prayers only met with cold faces, shrugging of +shoulders, and ironical smiles. She was refused everywhere. It is true +that now and then some gallant clerk replied to her application by a +declaration of love. + +Chance had thrown into her hands one of those small handbills which +bill-stickers paste upon the gutters, and in which workwomen are +“wanted.” Henceforth she spent her days in looking up these handbills, +and in going to places from which they were issued. But here she met +with the same difficulties. There was no end of questions. + +“Who are you? Where have you been? By whom have you been employed?” and +finally, always the same distressing answer,-- + +“We cannot employ persons like you.” + +Then she went to an employment agency. She had noticed one which +displayed at the door a huge placard, on which places were offered from +thirty-five up to a thousand francs a month. She went up stairs. A very +loquacious gentleman made her first deposit a considerable sum, and then +told her he had exactly what she wanted. She went ten times back to the +office, and always in vain. After an eleventh appointment, he gave her +the address of two houses, in one of which he assured her she would +certainly be employed. These two houses turned out to be two small +shops, where pretty young ladies were wanted to pour out absinthe, and +to wait upon the customers. + +This was Henrietta’s last effort. For ten months she had now been +struggling with a kind of helpless fury against inconquerable +difficulties, and at last the springs of her energy had lost their +elasticity. Now, crushed in body and mind, overwhelmed and conquered, +she gave up. + +It lacked still eighteen months before she would become of age. Since +she had escaped from her father’s house, she had not received a line +from Daniel, although she had constantly written to him, and she had, of +course, no means of ascertaining the date of his return. She had once, +following M. de Brevan’s advice, summoned courage enough to go to the +navy department, and there to inquire if they had any news about “The +Conquest.” A clerk had replied to her, with a joke, that “The Conquest” + might be afloat yet “a year or two.” How could the poor girl wait till +then? Why should she any longer maintain the useless struggle? She felt +acute pains in her chest; she coughed; and, after walking a few yards, +her legs gave way under her, and she broke out in cold perspiration. +She now spent her days almost always in bed, shivering with chills, +or plunged in a kind of stupor, during which her mind was filled with +dismal visions. She felt as if the very sources of life were drying up +within her, and as if all her blood was, drop by drop, oozing out of her +through an open wound. + +“If I could die thus!” she thought. + +This was the last favor she asked of God. Henceforth, a miracle +alone could save her; and she hardly wished to be saved. A perfect +indifference and intense distaste of every thing filled her soul. She +thought she had exhausted all that man can suffer; and there was nothing +left for her to fear. + +A last misfortune which now befell her did not elicit even a sigh from +her. One afternoon, while she had been down stairs, she had left the +window open. The wind had suddenly sprung up, slammed the blinds, and +thus upset a chair. On this chair hung her cashmere; it fell into the +fireplace, in which a little fire was still burning; and when she came +back she found the shawl half-burnt to ashes. It was the only article of +value which she still possessed; and she might at any time have procured +several hundred francs for it. + +“Well,” she said, “what does it matter? It means three months taken from +my life; that is all.” + +And she did not think of it any more; she did not even trouble herself +about the rent, which became due in October. + +“I shall not be able to pay it,” she said to herself. “Mrs. Chevassat +will give me notice, and then the hour will have come.” + +Still, to her great surprise, the worthy woman from below did not scold +her for not having the money ready, and even promised she would make +the owner of the house give her time. This inexplicable forbearance +gave Henrietta a week’s respite. But at last, one morning, she woke up, +having not a cent left, having nothing even, she thought, that she could +get money for, and being very hungry. + +“Well,” she thought, as if announcing to her own soul that the +catastrophe had at last come, “all I need now is a few minutes’ +courage.” + +She said so in her mind; but in reality she was chilled to the heart by +the fearful certainty that the crisis had really come: she felt as if +the executioner were at the door of the room, ready to announce her +sentence of death. And yet, for a month now, she had thought of suicide +only; and the evening before she had thought it over with a kind of +delight. + +“I am surely not such a coward?” she said to herself in a fit of rage. + +Yes, she was afraid. Yes, she told herself in vain that there was no +other choice left to her but that between death and Sir Thorn, or M. de +Brevan. She was terrified. + +Alas! she was only twenty years old; she had never felt such exuberance +of life within her; she wanted to live,--to live a month more, a week, a +day! + +If only her shawl had not been burnt! Then, examining with haggard eyes +her chamber, she saw that exquisite piece of embroidery which she had +undertaken. It was a dress, covered _all_ over with work of marvellous +delicacy and exquisite outlines. Unfortunately, it was far from being +finished. + +“Never mind!” she said to herself; “perhaps they will give me something +for it.” + +And, wrapping the dress up hastily, she hurried to offer it for sale to +the old woman who had already bought her ear-rings, and then her watch. +The fearful old hag seemed to be overcome with surprise when she saw +this marvel of skill. + +“That’s very fine,” she said; “why, it is magnificent! and, if it were +finished, it would be worth a mint of money; but as it is no one would +want it.” + +She consented, however, to give twenty francs for it, solely from love +of art, she said; for it was money thrown away. These twenty francs +were, for Henrietta, an unexpected release. + +“It will last me a month,” she thought, determined to live on dry bread +only; “and who can tell what a month may bring forth?” + +And this unfortunate girl had an inheritance from her mother of more +than a million! If she had but known it, if she had but had a single +friend to advise her in her inexperience! But she had been faithful to +her vow never to let her secret be known to a living soul; and the most +terrible anguish had never torn from her a single complaint. + +M. de Brevan knew this full well; for he had continued his weekly visits +with implacable regularity. This perseverance, which had at first served +to maintain Henrietta’s courage, had now become a source of unspeakable +torture. + +“Ah, I shall be avenged!” she said to him one day. “Daniel will come +back.” + +But he, shrugging his shoulders, had answered,-- + +“If you count upon that alone, you may as well surrender, and become my +wife at once.” + +She turned her head from him with an expression of ineffable disgust. +Rather the icy arms of Death! And still the pulsations of her heart were +apparently counted. Since the end of November her twenty francs had been +exhausted; and to prolong her existence she had had to resort to the +last desperate expedients of extreme poverty. All that she possessed, +all that she could carry from her chamber without being stopped by the +concierge, she had sold, piece by piece, bit after bit, for ten cents, +for five cents, for a roll. Her linen had been sacrificed first; then +the covering of her bed, her curtains, her sheets. The mattress had gone +the way of the rest,--the wool from the inside first, carried off by +handfuls; then the ticking. + +Thus, on the 25th of December, she found herself in a chamber as utterly +denuded as if a fire had raged there; while she herself had on her body +but a single petticoat under her thin alpaca dress, without a rag to +cover herself in these wintry nights. Two evenings before, when terror +triumphed over her resolution for a time, she had written her father a +long letter. He had made no reply. Last night she had again written in +these words:-- + + +“I am hungry, and I have no bread. If by tomorrow at noon you have not +come to my assistance, at one o’clock you will have ceased to have a +daughter.” + + +Tortured by cold and hunger, emaciated, and almost dying, she had waited +for an answer. At noon nothing had come. She gave herself time till four +o’clock. Four o’clock, and no answer. + +“I must make an end of it,” she said to herself. + +Her preparations had been made. She had told the Cerberus below that she +would be out all the evening; and she had procured a considerable stock +of charcoal. She wrote two letters,--one to her father, the other to M. +de Brevan. + +After that she closed hermetically all the openings in her room, kindled +two small fires, and, having commended her soul to God, stretched +herself out on her bed. It was five o’clock. + +A dense, bitter vapor spread slowly through the room; and the candle +ceased to give a visible light. Then she felt as if an iron screw were +tightening on her temples. She was suffocating, and felt a desire to +sleep; but in her stomach she suffered intense pains. + +Then strange and incoherent thoughts arose deliriously in her head; her +ears were filled with confused noises; her pulse beat with extraordinary +vehemence; nausea nearly convulsed her; and from time to time she +fancied terrific explosions were breaking her skull to pieces. + +The candle went out. Maddened by a sensation of dying, she tried to +rise; but she could not. She wanted to cry; but her voice ended in a +rattle in her throat. + +Then her ideas became utterly confused. Respiration ceased. It was all +over. She was suffering no longer. + + + + +XX. + +Thus a few minutes longer, and all was really over. Count Ville- +Handry’s daughter was dying! Count Ville-Handry’s daughter was dead! + +But at that very hour the tenant of the fourth story, Papa Ravinet, +the second-hand dealer, was going to his dinner. If he had gone down as +usually, by the front staircase, no noise would have reached him. But +Providence was awake. That evening he went down the back stairs, +and heard the death-rattle of the poor dying girl. In our beautiful +egotistical days, many a man, in the place of this old man, would not +have gone out of his way. He, on the contrary, hurried down to inform +the concierge. Many a man, again, would have been quieted by the +apparent calmness of the Chevassat couple, and would have been satisfied +with their assurance that Henrietta was not at home. He, however, +insisted, and, in spite of the evident reluctance of the concierge and +his wife, compelled them to go up, and brought out, by his words first, +and then by his example, one tenant after another. + +It was he likewise, who, while the concierge and the other people were +deliberating, directed what was to be done for the dying girl, and who +hastened to fetch from his magazine a mattress, sheets, blankets, +wood to make a fire, in fact, every thing that was needed in that bare +chamber. + +A few moments later Henrietta opened her eyes. Her first sensation was a +very strange one. + +In the first place she was utterly amazed at feeling that she was in a +warm bed,--she who had, for so many days, endured all the tortures of +bitter cold. Then, looking around, she was dazzled by the candles +that were burning on her table, and the beautiful, bright fire in her +fireplace. And then she looked with perfect stupor at all the women whom +she did not know, and who were bending over her, watching her movements. + +Had her father at last come to her assistance? + +No, for he would have been there; and she looked in vain for him among +all these strange people. + +Then, understanding from some words which were spoken close by her, that +it was to chance alone she owed her rescue from death, she was filled +with indescribable grief. + +“To have suffered all that can be suffered in dying,” she said to +herself, “and then not to die after all!” + +She almost had a feeling of hatred against all these people who were +busying themselves around her. Now that they had brought her back to +life, would they enable her to live? + +Nevertheless, she distinguished very clearly what was going on in her +room. She recognized the wealthy ladies from the first story, who had +stayed to nurse her, and between them Mrs. Chevassat, who assumed an +air of great activity, while she explained to them how Henrietta had +deceived her affectionate heart in order to carry out her fatal purpose. + +“You see, I did not dream of any thing,” she protested in a whining +tone. “A poor little pussy-cat, who was always merry, and this morning +yet sang like a bird. I thought she might be a little embarrassed, but +never suspected such misery. You see, ladies, she was as proud as a +queen, and as haughty as the weather. She would rather have died than +ask for assistance; for she knew she had only a word to say to me. Did +I not already, in October, when I saw she would not be able to pay her +rent, become responsible for her?” + +And thereupon the infamous hypocrite bent over the poor girl, kissed her +on her forehead, and said with a tender tone of voice,-- + +“Did you not love me, dear little pussy-cat; did not you? I know you +loved poor old Mrs. Chevassat.” + +Unable to articulate a word, even if she had understood what was said, +poor Henrietta shivered, shrank with horror and disgust from the contact +with those lying lips. And the emotion which this feeling caused her did +more for her than all the attentions that were paid her. Still, it was +only after the doctor, who had been sent for, had come and bled her, +that she was restored to the full use of her faculties. Then she +thanked, in a very feeble voice, the people around her, assuring them +that she felt much better now, and might safely be left alone. + +The two wealthy ladies, whom curiosity had carried off at the moment +when they were sitting down to dinner, did not wait for more, and, very +happy to be released, slipped away at once. But the concierge’s wife +remained by Henrietta’s bedside till she was alone with her victim; and +then every thing changed in her face, tone of voice, look, and manner. + +“Well,” she commenced, “now you are happy, miss! You have advertised my +house, and it will all be in the papers. Everybody will pity you, +and think your lover a cold-blooded villain, who lets you die of +starvation.” + +The poor young girl deprecated the charge with such a sweet, gentle +expression of face, that a savage would have been touched; but Mrs. +Chevassat was civilized. + +“And still you know very well,” she went on in a bitter tone, “that dear +M. Maxime has done all he could to save you. Only day before yesterday, +he offered you his whole fortune”-- + +“Madam,” stammered Henrietta, “have you no mercy?” + +Mercy--Mrs. Chevassat! What a joke! + +“You would take nothing,” she continued, “from M. Maxime. Why, I ask +you? To play the virtuous woman, was it? It was hardly worth while, if +you meant, immediately afterwards, to accept that old miser, who will +make life hard enough for you. Ah, you have fallen into nice hands!” + +Gathering up all the strength that had come back to her, Henrietta +raised herself on the pillows, and asked,-- + +“What do you mean?” + +“Oh, nothing! I see. After all, you would have it so. Besides, he had +been looking after you a long time already.” + +As soon as Henrietta opened her eyes, Papa Ravinet had discreetly +withdrawn, in order to leave the ladies, who were about her, time to +undress her. Thus she had not seen the man who had saved her, and did +not understand the allusions of the old woman. + +“Explain, madam, explain!” + +“Ah, upon my word! that is not difficult. The man who has pulled you +out, who has brought you all these things to make your bed, and kindle +a fire; why, that is the second-hand dealer of the fourth story! And he +will not stop there, I am sure. Patience, and you will know well enough +what I mean.” + +It must be borne in mind, that the woman, for fear Henrietta might sell +to Papa Ravinet what she had to sell, or for some other reason, had +always painted the old man to her in colors by no means flattering. + +“What ought I to be afraid of?” asked Henrietta. + +The woman hesitated. At last she answered,-- + +“If I were to tell you, you would repeat it to him when he comes back.” + +“No, I promise you.” + +“Swear it on your mother’s sacred memory.” + +“I swear.” + +Thus reassured, the old woman came close up to her bed; and, in an +animated but low voice, she said,-- + +“Well, I mean this: if you accept now what Papa Ravinet will offer you, +in six months you will be worse than any of Mrs. Hilaire’s girls. Ah! +don’t tell me ‘I do not mean to touch him.’ The old rascal has ruined +more than one who was just as good as you are. That’s his business; and, +upon my word! he understands it. Now, forewarned, forearmed. I am going +down to make you a soup. I’ll be back at night. And above all, you hear, +not a word!” + +By one word Mrs. Chevassat had plunged Henrietta once more into an abyss +of profound despair. + +“Great God!” she said to herself, “why must the generous assistance of +this old man be a new snare for me?” + +With her elbow resting on her pillow, her forehead supported by her +hand, her eyes streaming with tears, she endeavored to gather her ideas, +which seemed to be scattered to the four winds, like the leaves of +trees after a storm; when a modest, dry cough aroused her from her +meditations. + +She trembled, and raised her head. + +In the framework of the open door stood a man of mature age and of +medium height, looking at her. + +It was Papa Ravinet, who, after a long conversation with the concierge, +and after some words with his amiable wife, had come up to inquire after +his patient. She guessed at it, rather than she knew; for, although she +lived in the same house with him, she was not in the same part of the +building, and she scarcely recollected having caught a glimpse of him +now and then in crossing the yard. + +“That,” she thought, “is the man who plots my ruin, the wretch whom I am +to avoid.” + +Now, it is true that this man, with his mournful face, his huge, +brushlike eyebrows, and his small, yellow eyes, startling by their +incessant activity, had for the observer something enigmatical about +him, and therefore did not inspire much confidence. + +Nevertheless, Henrietta thanked him none the less heartily, although +greatly embarrassed, for his readiness to help her, his kind care, and +his generosity in providing every thing she wanted. + +“Oh! you owe me no thanks,” he said. “I have only done my duty, and that +very imperfectly.” + +And at once, in a rather grim manner, he began to tell her that what he +had done was nothing in comparison with what he meant to do. He had but +too well guessed what had led Henrietta to attempt suicide; he had only +to look around her room. But he swore she should have nothing more to +fear from want as long as he was there. + +But, the more earnest and pressing the good man became in his +protestations, the more Henrietta drew back within her usual reserve; +her mind being filled with the prejudices instilled by Mrs. Chevassat. +Fortunately he was a clever man, the old dealer; and by means of not +saying what might shock her, and by saying much that could not fail to +touch her, he gradually regained his position. He almost conquered her +when he returned to her the letters she had written before making her +dreadful preparations, and when she saw that they looked unhurt, +and sealed as before. Thus, when he left her, after half an hour’s +diplomatic intercourse, he had obtained from the poor young girl the +promise that she would not renew the attempt at her life, and that she +would explain to him by what fatal combination of circumstances she had +been reduced to such extreme suffering. + +“You would not hesitate,” he said, “if you knew how easy it often is, by +a little experience, to arrange the most difficult matters.” + +Henrietta did not hesitate. A thought which had occurred to her as soon +as she found herself alone had brought her to this conclusion: “If Papa +Ravinet were really what Mrs. Chevassat says, that bad woman would not +have warned me against him. If she tries to keep me from accepting the +old man’s assistance, she no doubt finds it to her advantage that I +should do so.” + +When she tried, after that, to examine as coolly as she could the +probable consequences of her decision, she found enormous chances in +her favor. If Papa Ravinet was sincere, she might be enabled to wait for +Daniel; if he was not sincere, what did she risk? She who had not feared +death itself need not fear any thing else. Lucretia’s dagger will always +protect a brave woman’s liberty. + +But still, in spite of the pressing need she had for rest, her promise +kept her awake for the greater part of the night; for she passed in her +mind once more over the whole lamentable story of her sufferings, and +asked herself what she might confess to, and what she ought to withhold +from the old dealer. Had he not already discovered, by the address of +one of her letters, that she was the daughter of Count Ville-Handry? And +just that she would have liked to keep him from knowing. On the other +hand, was it not foolish to ask the advice of a man to whom we will not +confess the whole truth? + +“I must tell him all,” she said, “or nothing.” And, after a moment’s +reflection, she added,--“I will tell him all, and keep nothing back.” + She was in this disposition, when in the morning, about nine o’clock, +Papa Ravinet reappeared in her room. He looked very pale, the old man; +and the expression of his face, and the tone of his voice, betrayed an +emotion which he could scarcely control, together with deep anxiety. + +“Well?” he asked forgetting in his preoccupation to inquire even how the +poor girl had passed the night. + +She shook her head sadly, and replied, pointing to a chair,-- + +“I have made up my mind, sir; sit down, please, and listen to me.” The +old dealer had been fully convinced that Henrietta would come to that; +but he had not hoped for it so soon. He could not help exclaiming, “At +last!” and intense, almost delirious joy shone in his eyes. Even this +joy seemed to be so unnatural, that the young girl was made quite +uncomfortable by it. Fixing her eyes upon the old man with all the power +of observation of which she was capable, she said,-- + +“I am fully aware that what I am about to do is almost unparalleled in +rashness. I put myself, to a certain extent, absolutely in your power, +sir,--the power of an utter stranger, of whom I am told I have every +thing to fear.” + +“O miss!” he declared, “believe me”-- + +But she interrupted him, saying with great solemnity,-- + +“I think, if you were to deceive me, you would be the meanest and least +of men. I rely upon your honor.” + +And then in a firm voice she began the account of her life, from that +fatal evening on which her father had said to her,-- + +“I have resolved, my daughter, to give you a second mother.” + +The old dealer had taken a seat facing Henrietta, and listened, +fixing his eyes upon her face as if to enter into her thoughts, and to +anticipate her meaning. His face was all aglow with excitement, like the +face of a gambler who is watching the little white ball that is to make +him a rich man or a beggar. It looked almost as if he had foreseen the +terrible communication she was making, and was experiencing a bitter +satisfaction at finding his presentiments confirmed,-- + +As Henrietta was proceeding, he would murmur now and then,-- + +“That is so! Yes, of course that had to come next.” + +And all these people whose abominable intrigues Henrietta was explaining +to him were apparently better known to him than to her, as if he had +frequently been in contact with them, or even lived in their intimacy. +He gave his judgment on each one with amazing assurance, as the occasion +presented itself, saying,-- + +“Ah! There I recognize Sarah and Mrs. Brian.” + +Or,-- + +“Sir Thorn never does otherwise.” + +Or, again,-- + +“Yes, that is all over Maxime de Brevan.” + +And, according to the different phases of the account, he would laugh +bitterly and almost convulsively, or he would break out in imprecations. + +“What a trick!” he murmured with an accent of deep horror, “what an +infernal snare!” + +At another point he turned deadly pale, and almost trembled on his +chair, as if he were feeling ill, and were about to fall. Henrietta was +telling him at that moment, from Daniel’s recital, the circumstances +under which M. de Kergrist had died, and Malgat had disappeared,--that +poor cashier who had left such an immense deficit behind; who had been +condemned to penal servitude; and whose body the police believed to have +found in a wood near Paris. But, as soon as the young girl had finished, +he rose all of a sudden, and cried out in a formidable voice,-- + +“I have them now, the wretches! this time I have them!” + +And, breaking down under his excessive excitement, he sank into his +chair, covering his face with his hands. Henrietta was dumfounded; she +looked aghast at the old man, in whom she now placed all her hopes. +Already, the night before, she had had some suspicions that he was not +what he seemed to be; now she was quite sure. But who was he? She had +nothing to go by to solve that riddle. + +This only she thought she saw clearly, that Sarah Brandon, Mrs. Brian, +and M. Thomas Elgin, as well as M. de Brevan, had at some time or other +come in personal contact with Papa Ravinet, and that he hated them +mortally. + +“Unless he should try to deceive me,” she thought, not having quite +shaken off all doubts yet. + +He had in the meantime mastered his emotion, and was regaining all his +composure. + +“Let no one, henceforth, deny Providence!” he exclaimed. “Ah! fools and +idiots alone can do so. M. de Brevan had every reason to think that this +house would keep the secret of his crime as safe as the grave, and so +brought you here. And here it happens I must chance to live,--of all +men, I,--and he remain unaware of it! By a kind of miracle we are +brought together under the same roof,--you, the daughter of Count +Ville-Handry, and I, one after the other, without knowing each other; +and, at the very moment when this Brevan is about to triumph, Providence +brings us together, and this meeting ruins him!” + +His voice betrayed his fierce joy at approaching vengeance; his sallow +cheeks flushed up; and his eyes shone brilliantly. + +“For M. de Brevan was triumphing last night. The woman Chevassat, +his confederate, had watched you, and noticing your preparations for +committing suicide, had said to him, ‘Rejoice! at last we shall get rid +of her.’” + +Henrietta shuddered, and stammered out,-- + +“Is it possible?” + +Then the old man, looking at her half surprised, said,-- + +“What! after all you have seen of M. de Brevan, you have never suspected +him of meditating your death?” + +“Why, yes! I sometimes thought so.” + +“Well, this time you were right, madam. Ah! you do not know your enemies +yet. But I know them, I; for I have had a chance of measuring the depth +of their wickedness. And there your safety would lie, if you would +follow my advice.” + +“I will, sir.” + +Papa Ravinet was evidently a little embarrassed. He said, however,-- + +“You see, madam, I shall have to ask you to trust me blindly.” + +“I will trust you blindly.” + +“It is of the utmost importance that you should escape out of reach of +M. de Brevan; he must lose every trace of you. You will, consequently, +have to leave this house.” + +“I will leave it.” + +“And in the way I say.” + +“I will obey you in every point.” + +The last shadow of trouble which had still overclouded the old dealer’s +brow vanished as if by magic. + +“Then all will go well,” he said, rubbing his hands as if he were taking +off the skin; “and I guarantee the rest. Let us make haste to understand +each other; for I have been here a long time, and the woman Chevassat +must be on needles. Still, it is important she should not suspect that +we are acting in concert.” + +As if afraid that an indiscreet ear might be listening at the door, he +drew his chair quite close to Henrietta’s bed, and whispered in a voice +but just audible to her,-- + +“As soon as I have turned my back that woman will come up, burning with +curiosity to know what has happened between us. You must pretend to be +very angry with me. Give her to understand that you think me a wicked +old man, who wants you to pay the price of infamy for the services I +wish to render to you.” + +Henrietta had turned crimson. Now she stammered out,-- + +“But, sir”-- + +“Perhaps you dislike telling a falsehood?” + +“You see--I cannot, I fear. It would not be easy to lie so as to deceive +Mrs. Chevassat.” + +“Ah, madam, you must! it cannot be helped. If you admit the absolute +necessity, you may succeed in misleading her. Remember that we must +fight the enemy with his own weapons.” + +“Well, then, I will try, sir.” + +“So be it. The rest, you will see, is a small matter. As soon as night +falls, you will dress, and watch for the moment when the concierge, as +usually, goes about the house lighting the gas. As soon as you see him +on the great staircase; you will make haste and run down. I shall take +measures to have the woman Chevassat either kept engaged, or out of +the house; and you will thus find it easy to slip out without being +perceived. Once in the street, you will turn to the right. At the corner +of the street, in front of the great Auction-Mart, you will see a cab +standing, with a plaid handkerchief like this hanging out of the window. +Get into it boldly; I’ll be inside. I do not know if I have made it all +clear to you?” + +“Oh, perfectly, sir!” + +“Then we understand each other. Do you feel strong enough?” + +“Yes, sir. You may rely on me.” + +Every thing passed off just as the old dealer had foreseen; and +Henrietta played her part so well, that at night, when her disappearance +was discovered, Mrs. Chevassat was neither much surprised nor troubled. + +“She was tired of life, the girl!” she said to her husband. “I saw it +when I was up there. We’ll see her again at the Morgue. As the charcoal +did not do the work, she has tried the water.” + + + + +XXI. + +Dear woman! She would not have gone to bed so quietly, nor have fallen +asleep so comfortably, if she had suspected the truth. + +What gave her such perfect peace was the certainty she had, that +Henrietta had left the house bareheaded, with wretched, worn-out shoes +on her feet, with nothing but one petticoat, and her thin alpaca +dress on her body. Now, she was quite sure, that in such a state of +destitution, and in this cold December night, the poor young girl would +soon be weary wandering through the streets of Paris, and would be +irresistibly drawn to the waters of the Seine. + +But it was by no means so. When Henrietta was alone, after the departure +of Papa Ravinet, she had only become confirmed in her determination to +trust in him blindly: she had even forborne to think it over, as she +had, humanly speaking, no other choice on earth. Thus, after having +received Mrs. Chevassat’s visit, and after having played the part +assigned to her by the old dealer, she rose, and, although quite +exhausted yet, took her place at the window to watch for the proper +time. Four o’clock struck; and, as it was growing dark, the concierge +came out, with a light in his hand, and went up the big staircase to +light the lamps. + +“Now is the time!” she said to herself. + +And casting a last look at this wretched room, where she had suffered so +much, and wept so much, and where she had expected to die, she slipped +out. The back stairs were quite dark, and thus she was not recognized +by two persons whom she met. The court was deserted, and the concierge’s +room locked. She crossed the hall, and at one bound was in the street. +Some forty paces to the left she could see the place where Papa Ravinet +was waiting for her in his cab. She ran there, got in; and the driver, +who had received his instructions, whipped his horses as soon as he +heard the door shut. + +“And now, sir,” she began, “where do you take me?” + +By the light of the gas in the stores, which from time to time lighted +up the interior of the carriage, she could see the features of her +neighbor. He looked at her with manifest satisfaction; and a smile of +friendly malice played upon his lips. + +“Ah!” he replied, “that is a great secret. But you will know soon, for +the man drives well.” + +The poor horses went, indeed, as fast as if the dollar which the driver +had received had infused the noble blood of the fastest racer into their +veins. They drove down the whole long street at a furious rate, turned +to the right, and, after many more turns, stopped at last before a house +of modest appearance. Lightly and promptly, like a sheriff’s clerk, Papa +Ravinet jumped out; and, having aided Henrietta to alight, he offered +her his arm, and drew her into the house, saying,-- + +“You will see what a surprise I have in store for you.” + +In the third story the old man stopped; and, drawing a key from his +pocket, he opened the door which faced the staircase. And, before she +had time to consider, Henrietta found herself gently pushed into a small +sitting-room, where a middle-aged lady was embroidering at a frame by +the light of a large copper lamp. + +“Dear sister,” said Papa Ravinet, still in the door, “here is the young +lady of whom I spoke to you, and who does us the honor to accept our +hospitality.” + +Slowly the elderly lady put her needle into the canvas, pushed back the +frame, and rose. + +She seemed to be about fifty years old, and must have been beautiful +formerly. But age and sorrow had blanched her hair, and furrowed her +face; and the habit of silence and meditation seemed to have sealed her +lips forever. Her stern countenance, nevertheless, expressed kindliness. +She was dressed in black; and her costume betrayed a lady from a +provincial town. + +“You are welcome, madam,” she said in a grave voice. “You will find in +our modest home that peace and that sympathy which you need.” + +In the meantime, Papa Ravinet had come forward; and, bowing to +Henrietta, he said,-- + +“I beg to present to you Mrs. Bertolle, my dearly beloved sister Mary, a +widow, and a saint, who has devoted herself to her brother, and who has +sacrificed to him every thing,--her fortune, her peace, and her life.” + +Ah! there was no mistaking the look with which the old man caressed the +old lady: he worshipped her. But she interrupted him, as if embarrassed +by his praise, saying,-- + +“You have told me so late, Anthony, that I have not been able to attend +to all of your orders. But the young lady’s room is ready, and if you +choose”-- + +“Yes, we must show her the way.” + +The old lady having taken the lamp, after removing the screen, opened a +door which led from the parlor directly into a small, modestly furnished +room, which shone with exquisite tidiness, and which exhaled that fresh +odor of lavender so dear to all housekeepers from the country. The +mirrors and the furniture all glistened alike in the bright fire on the +hearth; and the curtains were as white as snow. + +At one glance the old dealer had taken in every thing; and, after a +smile of gratitude addressed to his sister, he said to Henrietta,-- + +“This is your room, madam.” + +The poor girl, all overcome, sought in vain for words to express her +gratitude. The old lady did not give her time. She showed her, spread +out on the bed, petticoats, white linen, stockings, a warm dressing- +wrapper of gray flannel with blue flowers, and at the foot a pair of +slippers. + +“This will answer for a change to-night, madam,” she said. “I have +provided what was most pressing; to-morrow we will see about the rest.” + +Big tears, tears of happiness and gratitude, this time, rolled down +Henrietta’s pale cheeks. Oh, indeed! this was a surprise, and a +delicious one, which the ingenious foresight of her new friend had +prepared for her. + +“Ah, you are so kind!” she said, giving her hands to brother and +sister--“you are so kind! How can I ever repay what you are doing for +me?” + +Then overcoming her emotion, and turning to Papa Ravinet, she added,-- + +“But pray, who are you, sir,--you who thus come to succor, a poor +young girl who is an utter stranger to you, doubling the value of your +assistance by your great delicacy?” + +The old lady replied in his place,--“My brother, madam, is an +unfortunate man, who has paid for a moment’s forgetfulness of duty, with +his happiness, his prospects, and _his_ very life. Do not question him. +Let him be for you what he is for all of us,--Anthony Ravinet, dealer in +curiosities.” + +The voice of the old lady betrayed such great sorrow, silently endured, +that Henrietta looked ashamed, regretting her indiscretion. But the old +man at once said,-- + +“What I may say to you madam, is, that you owe me no gratitude,--no, +none whatever. What I do, my own interest commands me to do; and I +deserve no credit for it. Why do you speak of gratitude? It is I who +shall forever be under obligations to you for the immense service which +you render me.” + +He seemed to be inspired by his own words; his figure straightened up; +his eyes flashed fire; and he was on the point of letting, perhaps, +some secret escape him, when his sister interrupted him, saying +reproachfully,-- + +“Anthony, Anthony!” + +He stopped at once. Then he resumed,-- + +“You are right; you are right! I forget myself here; and I ought to be +already back in Water Street. It is of the utmost importance that that +woman Chevassat should not miss me a moment to-night.” + +He was about to leave them, when the old lady held him back, and said,-- + +“You ought to go back, I know; only be careful! It is a miracle that M. +de Brevan has never met you and recognized you, during the year he has +been coming to the house in which you live. If such a misfortune should +happen now, our enemies might once more escape us. After the young +lady’s desperate act, he would not fail to recognize the man who has +saved her. What can you do to avoid meeting him?” + +“I have thought of that danger,” he replied. “When I go back, I shall +tell the two Chevassats a little story, which will frighten them, so +that they will advise Brevan never to appear there, except at night, as +he formerly did.” + +Thereupon he bowed to Henrietta, and went away with the words,-- + +“To-morrow we will consult with each other.” + +The shipwrecked man who is saved at the last moment, when, strength and +spirits being alike exhausted, he feels himself sinking into the abyss, +cannot, upon feeling once more firm ground under his feet, experience +a sense of greater happiness than Henrietta did that night. For the +delicious sensation had become deeper and intenser by the evening spent +in company with Papa Ravinet’s sister. + +The widow, free from embarrassment as from affectation, possessed a +quiet dignity which appeared in certain words and ways she had, and +which made Henrietta guess the principal events of her life. Ruined all +of a sudden,--she did not say how,--some months after the death of her +husband, she, who had been accustomed to all the comforts of opulence +had seen herself reduced to poverty, and all its privations. This had +happened about five years ago. Since then she had imposed upon herself +the strictest economy, although she never neglected her appearance. She +had but one servant, who came every morning to clean up the house; +she herself did all the other work, washing and ironing her own linen, +cooking only twice a week, and eating cold meat on the other days, as +much to save money as to save time. + +For her time had its value. She worked on her frame patterns for +embroideries, for which a fashionable store paid her very good prices. +There were days in summer when she earned three francs. + +The blow had been a severe one; she did not conceal it. Gradually, +however, she had become reconciled to it, and taken up this habit of +economizing with unflinching severity, and down to the smallest +details. At present, she felt in these very privations a kind of secret +satisfaction which results from the sense of having accomplished a +duty,--a satisfaction all the greater, the harder the duty is. + +What duty, she did not say. + +“That lady is a noble creature among many!” said Henrietta to herself +that night, when she retired after a modest repast. + +Still she could not get over the mystery which surrounded the lives of +these two personages, whom fate, relenting at last, had placed in her +way. What was the mystery in the past of this brother and sister? For +there was one; and, so far from trying to conceal it, they had begged +Henrietta not to inquire into it. And how was their past connected +with her own past? How could their future depend in any way on her own +future? + +But fatigue soon made an end to her meditations, and confused her ideas; +and, for the first time in two years, she fell asleep with a sense +of perfect security; she slept peacefully, without starting at the +slightest noise, without being troubled by silence, without wondering +whether her enemies were watching her, without suspecting the very walls +of her room. + +When she awoke next morning, calm and refreshed, it was broad daylight, +nearly ten o’clock; and a pale ray of the sun was playing over the +polished furniture. When she opened her eyes, she saw the dealer’s +sister standing at the foot of her bed, like a good genius who had been +watching over her slumbers. + +“Oh, how lazy I am!” she exclaimed with the hearty laugh of a child; for +she felt quite at home in this little bedroom, where she had only spent +a night; she felt as much at home here as in her father’s palace when +her mother was still alive; and it seemed to her as if she had lived +here many a year. + +“My brother was here about half an hour ago to talk with you,” said the +old lady; “but we did not like to wake you. You needed repose so much! +He will be back in the evening, and dine with us.” + +The bright smile which had lighted up Henrietta’s face went out +instantly. Absorbed in the happiness of the moment, she had forgotten +every thing; and these few words brought her back to the reality of +her position, and recalled to her the sufferings of the past and the +uncertainty of the future. + +The good widow in the meantime assisted her in getting up; and they +spent the day together in the little parlor, busily cutting out and +making up a black silk dress for which Papa Ravinet had brought the +material in the morning, and which was to take the place of Henrietta’s +miserable, worn-out, alpaca dress. When the young girl had first seen +the silk, she had remembered all the kind widow had told her of their +excessive economy, and with difficulty only succeeded in checking her +tears. + +“Why should you go to such an expense?” she had said very sadly. “Would +not a woollen dress have done quite as well? The hospitality which you +offer me must in itself be quite a heavy charge upon you. I should never +forgive myself for becoming a source of still greater privations to such +very kind friends.” + +But the old lady shook her head, and replied,-- + +“Don’t be afraid, child. We have money enough.” + +They had just lighted the lamp, when they heard a key in the outer door; +and a moment later Papa Ravinet appeared. He was very red; and, although +it was freezing outdoors, he was streaming with perspiration. + +“I am exhausted,” he said, sinking into, an armchair, and wiping his +forehead with his broad checkered handkerchief. “You cannot imagine how +I have been running about to-day! I wanted to take an omnibus to come +home, but they were all full.” + +Henrietta jumped up, and exclaimed,-- + +“You have been to see my father?” + +“No, madam. A week ago already, Count Ville-Handry left his palace.” + +A mad thought, the hope that her father might have separated from his +wife, crossed Henrietta’s mind. + +“And the countess,” she asked,--“the Countess Sarah?” + +“She has gone with her husband. They live in Peletier Street, in a +modest apartment just above the office of the Pennsylvania Petroleum +Company. Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian are there also. They have only kept +two servants,--Ernest, the count’s valet, and a certain Clarissa.” + +The name of the vile creature whose treachery had been one of the +principal causes of Henrietta’s misfortunes did not strike her ear. + +“How could my father ever be induced to leave his home?” she asked. + +“He sold it, madam, ten days ago.” + +“Great God! My father must be ruined!” + +The old man bowed his head. + +“Yes!” + +Thus were the sad presentiments realized which she had felt when first +she had heard Count Ville-Handry speak of the Pennsylvania Petroleum +Company. But never, oh, never! would she have imagined so sudden a +downfall. + +“My father ruined!” she repeated, as if she were unable to realize the +precise meaning of these words. + +“And only a year ago he had more than a hundred thousand dollars a year. +Six millions swallowed up in twelve months!--six millions!” + +And as the enormous amount seemed to be out of all proportion to the +shortness of time, she said,-- + +“It cannot be. You must be mistaken, sir; they have misled you.” + +A smile of bitter irony passed over the old dealer’s lips. He replied, +as if much puzzled by Henrietta’s doubts,-- + +“What, madam, you do not see yet? Alas! what I tell you is but too true; +and, if you want proofs”-- + +He drew a newspaper from his pocket and handed it to Henrietta, pointing +out to her on the first page an article marked with a red pencil. + +“There!” he said. + +It was one of those financial sheets which arise every now and then, and +which profess to teach the art of becoming rich in a very short time, +without running any risk. This paper bore a title calculated to reassure +its readers. It was called “Prudence.” Henrietta read aloud,-- + + +“We shall never tire repeating to our subscribers the words which +form our motto and our heading, ‘Prudence, prudence! Do not trust new +enterprises!’ + +“Out of a hundred enterprises which appear in the market, it may safely +be said that sixty are nothing but the simplest kind of wells, into +which the capital of foolhardy speculators is sunk almost instantly. +Out of the remaining forty, twenty-five may be looked upon as suspicious +enterprises, partaking too much of gambling speculations. Among the last +fifteen even, a careful choice must be made before we find out the few +that present safe guarantees.” + + +The young girl paused, not understanding a word of all this stuff. But +the old man said,-- + +“That is only the honey of the preface, the sweet syrup intended to +conceal the bitterness of the medicine that is to follow. Go on, and you +will understand.” + +She continued to read,-- + + +“A recent event, we ought to say a recent disaster, has just confirmed +our doctrines, and justifies but too clearly our admonition to be +careful. + +“A company which started into existence last year with amazing +suddenness, which filled the whole world with its flaming +advertisements, crowding the newspapers, and decorating the +street-corners,--a company which was most surely to enrich its +stockholders, is already no longer able to pay the interest on its +paid-up capital. + +“As to the capital itself--but we will not anticipate events. + +“All of our readers will have understood that we are speaking of the +Franco-American Society of Pennsylvania Oil-Wells, which for the last +eight days has been the subject of universal excitement. + +“On ‘Change the shares of a hundred dollars are quoted at 4-to-5.” + + +Blinding tears prevented Henrietta from going on. “Great God!” she +exclaimed. “O God!” Then, mastering her weakness, she began once more to +read,-- + + +“And yet if ever any company seemed to offer all the material and +moral guarantees which we can desire before risking our carefully saved +earnings, this company presented them. + +“It had at its head a man who in his day was looked up to as a statesman +endowed with rare administrative talents, and whose reputation as a man +of sterling integrity seemed to lie above all suspicion. + +“Need we say that this was the ‘high and mighty Count Ville-Handry’? + +“Hence they did not spare this great and noble name, but proclaimed +it aloud on the housetops. It was the Count Ville-Handry here, and the +Count Ville-Handry there. He was to bestow upon the country a new branch +of industry. He was to change vile petroleum into precious gold. + +“It was especially brought into notice that the noble count’s personal +fortune was nearly equal to the whole capital of the new company,--ten +millions. Hence he was risking his own money rather than the money of +others. + +“It is now a year since these dazzling promises were made. What remains +of them all? Shares, worth five dollars yesterday, worth, perhaps, +nothing at all to-morrow, and a more than doubtful capital. + +“Who could have expected in our day a new edition of Law’s Mississippi +Scheme?” + + +The paper fell from the hands of the poor girl. She had turned as pale +as death, and was staggering so, that Papa Ravinet’s sister took her in +her arms to support her. + +“Horrible,” she murmured; “this is horrible!” Still she had not yet read +all. The old man picked up the paper, and read from another article, +below the lines which carried poison in every word, the following +comments:-- + + +“Two delegates of the stockholders of the Pennsylvania Petroleum Company +were to sail this morning from Brest for New York. + +“These gentlemen have been sent out by their fellow-sufferers to examine +the lands on which the oil-wells are situated which constitute the only +security of the shareholders. Certain people have gone so far as to +doubt even the existence of such oil-wells.” + + +And in another place, under the head of local items:-- + + +“The palace of Count Ville-Handry was sold last week. This magnificent +building, with the princely real estate belonging to it, was knocked +down to the highest bidder for the sum of one hundred and seventy-five +thousand dollars. The misfortune is, that house and lot are burdened +with mortgages, which amount together to nearly a hundred thousand +dollars.” + + +Henrietta was overcome, and had sunk into a chair. + +“But that is simply infamous,” she stammered out in an almost inaudible +tone. “Nobody will believe such atrocious libels.” + +Pale and deeply grieved, Papa Ravinet and his sister exchanged looks of +distress. Evidently the poor girl did not at all realize the terrible +nature of the circumstances. And yet, seeing her thus crushed, they did +not dare to enlighten her. At last the old dealer, knowing but too +well that uncertainty is more agonizing than the most painful reality, +said,-- + +“Your father is fearfully calumniated. But I have tried to inform +myself. Two facts are but too certain. Count Ville-Handry is ruined; and +the shares of the company of which he is the president have fallen to +five dollars, because”-- + +His voice changed, and he added in a very low tone,-- + +“Because it is believed that the capital of the company has been +appropriated to other purposes, and lost in speculations on ‘Change.” + +The poor old dealer was suffering intensely, and showed it. + +“Ah, madam, perfectly as I am convinced of Count Ville-Handry’s +uprightness and integrity, I also know that he was utterly ignorant of +business. What did he understand of these speculations into which he was +drawn? Nothing. It is a difficult and often a dangerous thing to manage +large capitals. They have no doubt deceived him, cheated him, misled +him, and driven him at last to the verge of bankruptcy.” + +“Who?” + +Papa Ravinet trembled on his chair, and, raising his hands to the +ceiling, exclaimed,-- + +“Who? You ask who? Why, those who had an interest in it, the wretches by +whom he was surrounded,--Sarah, Sir Thorn”-- + +Henrietta shook her head and said,-- + +“_I_ do not think the Countess Sarah looked with a favorable eye upon +the formation of this company.” + +And, when objection was made, she went on,-- + +“Besides, what interest could she have in ruining my father? Evidently +none. To ruin him was to ruin herself, since she was absolute mistress +of her fortune, and free to dispose of it as she chose.” + +Proud of the accuracy of her decision, she was looking triumphantly at +the old dealer. The latter saw now that he must strike a decisive blow; +and his sister encouraged him by a gesture. He said,-- + +“Pray, listen to me, madam. So far I have only repeated to you the +report on ‘Change. I told you: They say the capital of the Pennsylvania +Petroleum _Company_ has been swallowed up by unlucky speculations on +‘Change. But I do not believe these reports. I am, on the contrary, +convinced, I am quite sure even, that these millions were not lost on +‘Change, because they never were used for the purpose of speculating.” + +“Still”-- + +“Still they have disappeared, none the less; and your father is +probably the last man in the world to tell us how and where they have +disappeared. But I know it; and, when the question is raised how to +recover these enormous sums, I shall cry out, ‘Search Sarah Brandon, +Countess Ville-Handry; search M. Thomas Elgin and Mrs. Brian; search +Maxime de Brevan,’ the wretched tool of these wicked women!” + +Now at last a terrible light broke upon Henrietta’s mind. + +“Then,” she stammered, “these infamous slanders are only put out to +conceal an impudent robbery?” + +“Yes.” + +The young girl’s face showed that she was making a great effort to +comprehend; and then she said again,-- + +“And in that case, the articles in the papers”-- + +“Were written by the wretches who have robbed your father, yes, madam!” + And, shaking his fist with a threatening air, he added,-- + +“Oh! there is no mistaking it. Since when does this journal exist? Since +about six months ago. From the day on which it was established, it was +the aim and purpose of the founders to publish in it the articles which +you haven’t read.” + +Even if she could not well understand by what ingenious combinations +such enormous sums could be abstracted, Henrietta was conquered by Papa +Ravinet’s sincere and earnest conviction. + +“Then,” she went on, “these wretches who have robbed my father now mean +to ruin him!” + +“They must do it for their own safety. The money has been stolen, you +see; therefore there must be a thief. For the world, for the courts, the +guilty one will be Count Ville-Handry.” + +“For the courts?” + +“Alas, yes!” + +The poor girl’s eyes went from the brother to the sister with a terrible +expression of bewilderment. At last she asked,-- + +“And do you believe Sarah will allow my father’s name to be thus +dishonored,--the name which she bears, and of which she was so proud?” + +“She will, perhaps, even insist upon it.” + +“Great God! What do you mean? Why should she?” + +Seeing her brother’s hesitation, the old lady took it upon herself to +answer. She touched the poor girl’s arm, and said in a subdued voice,-- + +“Because, you see, my poor child, now that Sarah has gotten possession +of the fortune she wanted, your father is in her way; because, you see, +she wants to be free--do you understand?--free!” + +Henrietta uttered a cry of such horror that both the brother and the +sister saw at once that she had not misunderstood the horrible meaning +of that word “free.” + +But, since the blow had fallen, the old dealer did not think the rest +need be concealed from Henrietta. He got up, therefore, and, leaning +against the mantlepiece, he addressed the poor girl, trembling in all +her limbs with terror, and looking at him with a fixed and painful gaze, +in these words,-- + +“You must at last learn to know, madam, the execrable woman who has +sworn to ruin you. You see, I know, because I have experienced it +myself, of what crimes she is capable; and I see clear in the dark night +of her infernal intrigues. I know that this woman with the chaste brow, +the open smile, and the soft eyes, has the genius and the instinct of a +murderess, and has never counted upon any thing else, but murder for the +gratification of her lusts.” + +The attitude of the old man, who raised his head on high while his +breast swelled, breathed in every one of his sharp and threatening +gestures an intense thirst of vengeance. He no longer measured his words +carefully; and they overflowed from his lips as they came boiling up +under the pressure of his rage. + +“Anthony!” said the old lady more than once,--“Anthony, brother! I +beseech you!” + +But this friendly voice, ordinarily all-powerful, was not even heard by +him now. He went on,-- + +“And now, madam, must I still explain to you the simple and yet +formidable plan by which Sarah Brandon has succeeded in obtaining by one +effort the immense fortune of the Ville-Handry family? From the first +day, she has seen that you were standing between her and those millions; +therefore she attacked you first of all. A brave and honest man, M. +Daniel Champcey, loved you; he would have protected you; therefore she +got him out of the way. The world might have become interested in you, +might have taken your side; she beguiled your father, in his blind +passion, to calumniate you, to ruin your reputation, and to expose you +to the contempt of the world. Still you might have wished to secure +a protector, you might have found one. She placed by your side her +wretched tool, her spy, a forger, a criminal whom she knew to be able +of doing things from which even an accomplished galley-slave would have +shrunk with disgust and horror: I mean Maxime de Brevan.” + +The very excess, of eruption had restored a part of her energy to +Henrietta. She said, therefore,-- + +“Alas, _sir_! have I not told you, on, the contrary, that Daniel himself +had confided me to the care of M. de Brevan? Have I not told you”-- + +The old dealer smiled almost contemptuously, and then continued,-- + +“What does that prove? Nothing but the skill of M. de Brevan in carrying +out Sarah Brandon’s orders. In order to get the more completely the +mastery over you, he began by obtaining the mastery over M. Champcey. +How he succeeded in doing this, I do not know. But we shall know it when +we want to know it; for we are going to find out every thing. Thus Sarah +was, through M. de Brevan, kept informed of all your thoughts, of all +your hopes, of _every_ word you wrote to M. Champcey, and of all he said +in reply; for you need not doubt he did answer, and they suppressed the +letters, just as they, very probably, intercepted all of your letters +which you did not yourself carry to the post-office. Still, as long as +you were living under your father’s roof, Sarah could do nothing against +your life. She resolved, therefore, to force you to flee; and those mean +persecutions of M. Elgin served their purpose. You thought, and perhaps, +they think, that bandit really wanted your hand. Undeceive yourself. +Your enemies knew your character too well to hope that you would ever +break your word, and become faithless to M. Champcey. But they were bent +upon handing you over to M. de Brevan. And thus, poor child! you were +handed over to him. Maxime had as little idea of marrying you as Sir +Thomas; he was quite prepared, when he dared to approach you with open +arms, to be rejected with disgust. But he had received orders to add +the horror of his persecutions to the horror of your isolation and your +destitution. + +“For he was quite sure, the scoundrel! that the secret of your +sufferings would be well kept. He had carefully chosen the house in +which you were to die of hunger and misery. The two Chevassats were +bound to be his devoted accomplices, even unto death. This is what gave +him the amazing boldness, the inconceivable brutality, to watch your +slow agony; no doubt he became quite impatient at your delaying suicide +so long. + +“Finally you were driven to it; and your death would have realized their +atrocious hopes, if Providence had not miraculously stepped in,--that +Providence which always, sooner or later, takes its revenge, whatever +the wicked may say to the contrary. Yes, these wretches thought they +had now surely gotten rid of you, when I came in. That very morning, the +woman Chevassat had told them, no doubt, ‘She’ll do it to-night!’ And +that evening, Sarah, Mrs. Brian, and M. Elgin asked, no doubt, full of +hope, ‘Is it all over?’” + +Immovable, and white as marble, her eyes dilated beyond measure, and her +lips half-open, poor Henrietta listened. She felt as if a bright ray +of the sun had suddenly illumined the darkest depths of the abyss from +which she had been barely snatched. + +“Yes,” she said, “yes; now I see it all.” + +Then, as the old dealer, out of breath, and his voice hoarse with +indignation, paused a moment, she asked,-- + +“Still there is one circumstance which I cannot understand: Sarah +insists upon it that she knew nothing of the forged letter by means of +which Daniel was sent abroad. She told me, on the contrary, that she had +wished to keep him here, because she loved him, and he loved her.” + +“Ah! do not believe a word of those infamous stories,” broke in Papa +Ravinet’s sister. + +But the old man scratched his head, and said,-- + +“No, certainly not! We ought not to believe such stories. And yet, I +wonder if there is not some new trick in that. Unless, indeed--But no, +that would be almost too lucky for us! Unless Sarah should really love +M. Champcey!” + +And, as if he was afraid of having given rise to hopes which he founded +upon this contingency, he added at once,-- + +“But let us return to facts. When Sarah was sure of you, she turned +her attention to your father. While they were murdering you slowly, she +abused the inexperience of Count Ville-Handry to lead him into a path +at the end of which he could not but leave his honor behind him. Notice, +pray, that the articles which you read are dated on the very day on +which you would probably have died. That is a clear evidence of her +crime. Thinking that she had gotten rid of you, she evidently said to +herself, ‘And now for the father.’” + +Henrietta grew red in her face, as if a jet of fire had blazed up in it. +She exclaimed,-- + +“Great God! The proofs are coming out; the crime will be disclosed. +I have no doubt the assassins told each other that Count Ville-Handry +would never survive such a foul stain on his honor. And they dared all, +sure as they were that that honorable man would carry the secret of +their wickedness and of their unheard-of robbery with him to the grave.” + +Papa Ravinet leisurely wiped the perspiration from his brow. Then he +replied in a hoarse voice,-- + +“Yes, that was probably, that was assuredly, the way Sarah Brandon +reasoned within herself.” + +But Henrietta, full of admirable energy, had roused herself; and, with +flushed cheeks and burning eyes, she said to him,-- + +“What! you knew all this? You knew that they were assassinating my +father, and you did not warn him? Ah, that was cruel cautiousness!” + +And quick like lightning she dashed forward, and would have rushed out, +if the old lady had not promptly stepped in front of the door, saying,-- + +“Henrietta, poor child! where are you going?” + +“To save my father, madam, who, perhaps at this very moment is +struggling in the last agonies of death, as I was struggling in like +manner only two nights ago.” + +Quite beside herself, she had clasped the knob of the door in her hands, +and tried with all the strength she still possessed to move the old lady +out of the way. But Papa Ravinet seized her by the arm, and said to her +solemnly,-- + +“Madam, I swear to you by all you hold sacred, and my sister will swear +to you in like manner, that your father’s life is in no kind of danger.” + +She gave up the struggle; but her face bore the expression of the most +harassing anxiety. The old man continued,-- + +“Do you wish to defeat our triumph? Would you like to give warning to +our enemies, to put _them_ on their guard, and to deprive us of all +hopes of revenge?” + +Henrietta almost mechanically passed her hand to and fro across her +brow, as if she hoped she could thus restore peace to her mind. + +“And mind,” continued the old man with a persuasive voice, “mind that +such imprudence would save our enemies, but would not save your father. +Pray consider and answer me. Do you really think that your arguments +would be stronger than Sarah Brandon’s? You cannot so far underrate +the diabolical cunning of your enemy. Why, she has no doubt taken all +possible measures to keep your father’s faith in her unshaken, and to +let him die as he has lived, completely deceived by her, and murmuring +with his last breath words of supreme love for her who kills him.” + +These arguments were so overwhelming, that Henrietta let go the door- +knob, and slowly went back to her seat by the fire. And yet she was far +from being reassured. + +“If I were to appeal to the police,” she suddenly proposed. + +The old lady had come and taken a seat by Henrietta’s side. She took her +hands in her own now, and said, gently,-- + +“Poor child! Do you not see that the whole power of this abominable +creature lies in the fact that she employs means which are not within +the reach of human justice. Believe me, my child, it is best for you to +rely blindly on my brother.” + +Once more the old dealer had come up to the mantlepiece. He repeated,-- + +“Yes, Miss Henrietta, rely on me. I have as much reason to curse Sarah +Brandon as you have, and perhaps I hate her more. Rely on me; for my +hatred has now been watching and waiting for years, ever anxious to +reach her, and to avenge my sufferings. Yes, for long years I have been +lying in wait, thirsting for vengeance, lost in darkness, but pursuing +her tracks with the unwearied perseverance of the Indian. For the +purpose of finding out who she is, and who her accomplices are, +whence they came, and how they have met to plot together such fearful +crimes,--for that purpose I have walked in the deepest mud, and stirred +up heaps of infamy. But I have found out all. And yet in the whole life +of Sarah Brandon,--a life of theft and murder,--I have till this moment +not found a single fact which would bring her within the reach of the +law, so cunning is her wickedness.” + +His face brightened with an air of triumph; and his voice rose high as +he added,-- + +“But now! This time success seemed to her so sure and so easy, that she +has neglected her usual precautions. Eager to enjoy her millions, and, +in proportion, weary of playing a comedy of love with your father, she +has been too eager. And she is lost if we, on our side, are not also too +eager. + +“As to your father, madam, I have my reasons for feeling safe about him. +According to your mother’s marriage contract, and in consequence of +a bequest of a million and a half which were left her by one of her +uncles, your father’s estate is your debtor to the amount of two +millions; and that sum is invested in mortgages on his estates in Anjou. +That sum he cannot touch, even if he is bankrupt. Should he die before +you, that sum remains still yours; but, if you die before him, it goes +to him. Now Sarah has sworn, in her insatiate cupidity, that she will +have these two millions also.” + +“Ah,” said Henrietta, “you are right! It is Sarah’s interest that my +father should live; and he will live, therefore, as long as she does not +know whether I am dead or alive, in fact, as long as she does not know +what has become of me.” + +“And she must not know that for some time,” chimed in the old man. + +Then laughing his odd, silent laugh,-- + +“You ought to see the anxiety of your enemies since you have slipped +out of their hands. That woman Chevassat had, last night, come to +the conclusion that you were gone, and gone forever; but this morning +matters looked very differently. Maxime de Brevan had been there, making +a terrible row, and beating her (God forgive him!) because she had +relaxed in her watchfulness. The rascal! The fellow has been spending +the whole day in running from the police office to the Morgue, and back +again. Destitute as you were, and almost without clothes, what could +have become of you? I, for my part, did not show; and the Chevassats are +far from suspecting that I had any thing to do with the whole +affair. Ah! It will soon be our turn, and if you will only accept my +suggestions, madam”-- + +It was past nine o’clock when the old dealer, his sister, and Henrietta +sat down to their modest meal. But in the interval a hopeful smile had +reappeared on Henrietta’s face, and she looked almost happy, when, about +midnight, Papa Ravinet left them with the words,-- + +“To-morrow evening I shall have news. I am going to the navy +department.” + +The next day he reappeared precisely at six o’clock, but in what a +condition! He had in his hand a kind of carpet-bag; and his looks and +gestures made him look almost insane. + +“Money!” he cried out to his sister as he entered. “I am afraid I have +not enough; and make haste. I have to be at the Lyons Railway at seven +o’clock.” + +And when his sister and Henrietta, terribly frightened, asked him,-- + +“What is the matter? What are you going to do?” + +“Nothing,” he replied joyously, “but that Heaven itself declares in our +favor. I went to the department. ‘The Conquest’ will remain another year +in Cochin China; but M. Champcey is coming back to Europe. He was to +have taken passage on board a merchant vessel, ‘The Saint Louis,’ which +is expected in Marseilles every day, if she has not already come in. And +I--I am going to Marseilles, I must see M. Champcey before anybody else +can see him.” + +When his sister had given him notes to the amount of four hundred +dollars, he rushed out, exclaiming,-- + +“To-morrow I will send you a telegram!” + + + + +XXII. + +If there is in our civilized states a profession more arduous than +others it is surely that of the sailor. So arduous is it, that we are +almost disposed to ask how men can be found bold enough to embrace _it_, +and firm enough in their resolution not to abandon it after having tried +it. Not because of the hazards, the fatigues, and the dangers connected +with it, but because it creates an existence apart, and because the +conditions it imposes seem to be incompatible with free will. + +Still no one is more attached to his home than the sailor. There are few +among them who are not married. And by a kind of special grace they +are apt to enjoy their short happiness as if it were for eternity, +indifferent as to what the morning may bring. + +But behold! one fine morning, all of a sudden, a big letter comes from +the department. + +It is an order to sail. + +He must go, abandoning every thing and everybody,--mother, family, and +friends, the wife he has married the day before, the young mother who +sits smiling by the cradle of her first-born, the betrothed who was +looking joyfully at her bridal veil. He must go, and stifle all those +ominous voices which rise from the depth of his heart, and say to him, +“Will you ever return? and, if you return, will you find them all, your +dear ones? and, if you find them, will they not have changed? will they +have preserved your memory as faithfully as you have preserved theirs?” + +To be happy, and to be compelled to open to mishap this fatal door, +absence! Hence it is only in comic operas, and inferior novels, that the +sailors are seen to sing their most cheerful songs at the moment when a +vessel is about to sail on a long and perilous voyage. The moment is, in +reality, always a sad one, very grave and solemn. + +Such could not fail to be the scene also, when “The Conquest” + sailed,--the ship on board of which Daniel Champcey had been ordered as +lieutenant. And certainly there had been good reasons for ordering him +to make haste and get down to the port where she lay; for the very next +day after his arrival, she hoisted anchor. She had been waiting for him +only. + +Having reached Rochefort at five o’clock in the morning, he slept the +same night on board; and the next day “The Conquest” sailed. Daniel +suffered more than any other man on board, although he succeeded in +affecting a certain air of indifference. The thought of Henrietta being +left in the hands of adventurers who were capable of any thing was +a thorn in his side, which caused him great and constant pain. As he +gradually calmed down, and peace returned to his mind, a thousand doubts +assailed him concerning Maxime de Brevan: would he not be exposed to +terrible temptation when he found himself thrown daily into the company +of a great heiress? Might he not come to covet her millions, and try to +abuse her peculiar situation in order to secure them to himself? + +Daniel believed too firmly in his betrothed to apprehend that she would +even listen to Brevan. But he reasoned, very justly, that his darling +would be in a desperate condition indeed, if M. de Brevan, furious at +being refused, should betray his confidence, and go over to the enemy, +to the Countess Sarah. + +“And I,” he thought, “who in my last directions urged her to trust +implicitly in Maxime, and to follow his advice as if it were my own!” + +In the midst of these terrible anxieties, he hardly recollected that +he had intrusted to Maxime every thing that he possessed. What was his +money to him in comparison! + +Thus it appeared to him a genuine favor of Providence when “The +Conquest,” six days out at sea, experienced a violent storm, which +endangered her safety for nearly seventy-two hours. His thoughts +disappeared while he felt his grave responsibility, as long as the sea +tossed the vessel to and fro like a mere cork, and while the crew fought +with the elements till they were overcome by fatigue. He had actually a +good night’s rest, which he had not enjoyed since he left Paris. + +When he awoke, he was surprised to feel a certain peace of mind. +Henceforth his fate was no longer in his own hands; he had been shown +very clearly his inability to control events. Sad resignation succeeded +to his terrible anxiety. + +A single hope now kept him alive,--the hope of soon receiving a letter +from Henrietta, or, it might be, of finding one upon arriving at his +destination; for it was by no means impossible for “The Conquest” to be +outstripped by some vessel that might have left port three weeks later. +“The Conquest,” an old wooden frigate, and a sailing vessel, justified +her bad reputation of being the worst sailor in the whole fleet. +Moreover, alternate calms and sudden blows kept her much longer than +usually on the way. The oldest sailors said they had never seen a more +tedious voyage. + +To add to the discomfort, “The Conquest” was so crammed full with +passengers, that sailors and officers had hardly half of the space +usually allotted to them on board ship. Besides the crew, there were on +board a half battalion of marines, and a hundred and sixty mechanics of +various trades, whom government sent out for the use of the colony. Some +of these artisans had their families with them, having determined to +become settlers in Cochin China; others, generally quite young yet, +only made the voyage in order to have an opportunity for seeing foreign +lands, and for earning, perhaps, a little money. They were occasionally +called upon to assist in handling the ship, and were, on the whole, good +men, with the exception of four or five, who were so unruly that they +had to be put in irons more than once. + +The days passed, nevertheless; and “The Conquest” had been out three +months, when one afternoon, as Daniel was superintending a difficult +manoeuvre, he was suddenly seen to stagger, raise his arms on high, and +fall backwards on the deck. + +They ran up to him, and raised him up; but he gave no sign of life; and +the blood poured forth from his mouth and nose in streams. Daniel had +won the hearts of the crew by his even temper, his strict attention to +duty, and his kindness, when off duty, to all who came in contact with +him. Hence, when the accident became known, in an instant sailors and +officers came hurrying up from one end of the frigate to the other, and +even from the lowest deck, to see what had happened to him. + +What had happened? No one could tell; for no one had seen any thing. +Still it must be a very grave matter, to judge from the large pool of +blood which dyed the deck at the place where the young man had fallen +down so suddenly. They had carried him to the infirmary; and, as soon as +he recovered his senses, the surgeons discovered the cause of his fall +and his fainting. + +He had an enormous contused wound on the back of his head, a little +behind the left ear,--a wound such as a heavy hammer in the hands of a +powerful man might have produced. Whence came this terrible blow, which +apparently a miracle alone had prevented from crushing the skull? No +one could explain this, neither the surgeons, nor the officers who stood +around the bed of the wounded man. When Daniel could be questioned, he +knew no more about it than the others. There had been no one standing +near him; nor had he seen anybody come near him at the time of the +accident; the blow, moreover, had been so violent, that he had fallen +down unconscious. All these details soon became current among the +sailors and passengers who had crowded on deck. They were received with +incredulous smiles, and, when they could no longer be held in doubt, +with bursts of indignation. + +What! Lieut. Champcey had been struck in broad daylight, in the midst of +the crew! How? By whom? + +The whole matter was so wrapped up in mystery, that it became all +important to clear it up; and the sailors themselves opened at once a +kind of court of inquest. Some hairs, and a clot of blood, which were +discovered on an enormous block, seemed to explain the riddle. It would +seem that the rope to which this enormous block was fastened had slipped +out of the hands of one of the sailors who were engaged in the rigging, +carrying out the manoeuvre superintended by Daniel. + +Frightened by the consequences of his awkwardness, but, nevertheless +preserving his presence of mind, this man had, no doubt, drawn up the +block so promptly, that he had not been noticed. Could it be hoped that +he would accuse himself? Evidently not. Besides, what would be the use +of it? The wounded man was the first to request that the inquiries might +be stopped. + +When, at the end of a fortnight, Champcey returned to duty, they ceased +talking of the accident; unfortunately, such things happen but too +frequently on board ship. Besides, the idea that “The Conquest” was +drawing near her destination filled all minds, and sufficed for all +conversations. + +And really, one fine evening, as the sun was setting, land was seen, and +the next morning, at daybreak, the frigate sailed into the Dong-Nai, +the king of Cochin Chinese rivers, which is so wide and so deep, that +vessels of the largest tonnage can ascend it without difficulty till +they reach Saigon. + +Standing on deck, Daniel watched the monotonous scenes which they +passed,--a landscape strange in form, and exhaling mortal fevers from +the soil, and the black yielding slime. + +After a voyage of several months, he derived a melancholy pleasure from +seeing the banks of the river overshadowed by mango trees and mangroves, +with their supple, snakelike roots wandering far off under water; while +on shore a soft, pleasant vegetation presented to the eye the whole +range of shades in green, from the bluish, sickly green of the idrys +to the dark, metallic green of the stenia. Farther inland, tall grapes, +lianes, aloes, and cactus formed impenetrable thickets, out of which +rose, like fluted columns, gigantic cocoa-palms, and the most graceful +trees on earth, areca-palms. Through clearings here and there, one could +follow, as far as the eye reached, the course of low, fever-breeding +marshes, an immense mud-plain covered with a carpet of undulating +verdure, which opened and closed again under the breeze, like the sea +itself. + +“Ah! That is Saigon, is it?” said to Daniel a voice full of delight. + +He turned round. It was his best friend on board, a lieutenant like +himself, who had come to his side, and, offering him a telescope, said +with a great sigh of satisfaction,-- + +“Look! there, do you see? At last we are here. In two hours, Champcey, +we shall be at anchor.” + +In the distance one could, in fact, make out upon the deep blue of the +sky the profile of the curved roof of the pagodas in Saigon. It took a +long hour yet, before, at a turn in the river, the town itself appeared, +miserable looking,--with all deference to our geographies, be it +said,--in spite of the immense labor of the French colony. + +Saigon consists mainly of one wide street running parallel with the +right bank of the Dong-Nai, a primitive, unpaved street cut up into +ruts, broken in upon by large empty spaces, and lined with wooden houses +covered with rice-straw or palm-leaves. + +Thousands of boats crowd against the banks of the river along this +street, and form a kind of floating suburb, overflowing with a strange +medley of Annamites, Hindoos, and Chinamen. At a little distance from +the river, there appear a few massive buildings with roofs of red tiles, +pleasing to the eye, and here and there an Annamite farm, which seems +to hide behind groups of areca-palms. Finally, on an eminence, rise the +citadel, the arsenal, the house of the French commander, and the former +dwelling of the Spanish colonel. + +But every town is beautiful, where we land after a voyage of several +months. Hence, as soon as “The Conquest” was safely at anchor, all the +officers, except the midshipman on duty, went on shore, and hastened +to the government house to ask if letters from France had arrived there +before them. Their hopes were not deceived. Two three-masters, one +French, the other English, which had sailed a month later than “The +Conquest,” had arrived there at the beginning of the week, bringing +despatches. + +There were two letters for Daniel, and with feverish hands and beating +heart he took them from the hand of the old clerk. But at the first +glance at the addresses he turned pale. He did not see Henrietta’s +handwriting. Still he tore open the envelopes, and glanced at the +signatures. One of the letters was signed, “Maxime de Brevan;” the +other, “Countess Ville-Handry,” _nee_ Sarah Brandon. + +Daniel commenced with the latter. After informing him of her marriage, +Sarah described at great length Henrietta’s conduct on the wedding-day. + +“Any other but myself,” she said, “would have been incensed at this +atrocious insult, and would abuse her position to be avenged. But I, who +never yet forgave anybody, I will forgive her, Daniel, for your sake, +and because I cannot see any one suffer who has loved you.” + +A postscript she had added ran thus,-- + +“Ah! why did you not prevent my marriage, when you could do so by a +word? They think I have reached the summit of my wishes. I have never +been more wretched.” + +This letter made Daniel utter an exclamation of rage. He saw nothing in +it but bitter irony. + +“This miserable woman,” he thought, “laughs at me; and, when she says +she does not blame Henrietta, that means that she hates her, and will +persecute her.” + +Maxime’s letter fortunately reassured him a little. Maxime confirmed +Sarah’s account, adding, moreover, that Miss Henrietta was very sad, +but calm and resigned; and that her step-mother treated her with the +greatest kindness. The surprising part was, that Brevan did not say a +word of the large amounts that had been intrusted to his care, nor of +his method of selling the lands, nor of the price which he had obtained. + +But Daniel did not notice this; all his thoughts were with Henrietta. + +“Why should she not have written,” he thought, “when all the others +found means to write?” + +Overwhelmed with disappointment, he had sat down on a wooden bench in +the embrasure of one of the windows in the hall where the letters were +distributed. Travelling across the vast distance which separated him +from France, his thoughts were under the trees in the garden of the +count’s palace. He felt as if a powerful effort of his will would enable +him to transport himself thither. By the pale light of the moon he +thought he could discern the dress of his beloved as she stole towards +him between the old trees. + +A friendly touch on the shoulder recalled him rudely to the real world. +Four or five officers from “The Conquest” were standing around him, gay, +and free from cares, a hearty laugh on their lips. + +“Well, my dear Champcey,” they said, “are you coming?” + +“Where?” + +“Why, to dinner!” + +And as he looked at them with the air of a man who had just been roused, +and has not had time to collect his thoughts, they went on,-- + +“Well, to dinner. It appears Saigon possesses an admirable French +restaurant, where the cook, a Parisian, is simply a great artist. Come, +get up, and let us go.” + +But Daniel was in a humor which made solitude irresistibly attractive. +He trembled at the idea of being torn from his melancholy reveries, of +being compelled to take his part in conversation, to talk, to listen, to +reply. + +“I cannot dine with you to-day, my friends,” he said to his comrades. + +“You are joking.” + +“No, I am not. I must return on board.” Then only, the others were +struck by the sad expression of his face; and, changing their tone, they +asked him in the most affectionate manner,-- + +“What is the matter, Champcey? Have you heard of any misfortune, any +death?” + +“No.” + +“You have had letters from France, I see.” + +“They bring me nothing sad. I was expecting news, and they have not +come; that is all.” + +“Oh! then you must come with us.” + +“Do not force me; I would be a sorry companion.” + +Still they insisted, as friends will insist who will not understand that +others may not be equally tempted by what charms them; but nothing could +induce Daniel to change his mind. At the door of the government house he +parted with his comrades, and went back, sad and solitary, towards the +harbor. + +He reached without difficulty the banks of the Dong-Nai; but here +obstacles presented themselves of which he had not thought. The night +was so dark, that he could hardly see to find his way along a wharf in +process of construction, and covered with enormous stones and timber. +Not a light in all the native huts around. In spite of his efforts to +pierce this darkness, he could discern nothing but the dark outline +of the vessels lying at anchor in the river, and the light of the +lighthouse as it trembled in the current. + +He called. No voice replied. The silence, which was as deep as the +darkness, was broken only by the low wash of the river as it flowed down +rapidly. + +“I am quite capable,” thought Daniel, “of not finding the boat of ‘The +Conquest.’” + +Still he did find it, after long search, drawn up, and half lost, in a +crowd of native boats. But the boat seemed to be empty. It was only when +he got into it, that he discovered a little midshipman fast asleep in +the bottom, wrapped up in a carpet which was used to cover the seats +for the officers. Daniel shook him. He rose slowly, and grumbling, as if +overcome by sleep. + +“Well, what is the matter?” he growled. + +“Where are the men?” asked Daniel. + +Quite awake now, the midshipman, who had good eyes, had noticed, in +spite of the darkness, the gold of the epaulets. This made him very +respectful at once; and he replied,-- + +“Lieutenant, all the men are in town.” + +“How so? All?” + +“Why, yes, lieutenant! When all the officers had gone on shore, they +told the boatswain they would not come back very soon, and he might take +his time to eat a mouthful, and to drink a glass, provided the men did +not get drunk.” + +That was so; and Daniel had forgotten the fact. + +“And where did they go?” he asked. + +“I don’t know, lieutenant.” + +Daniel looked at the large, heavy boat, as if he had thought for a +moment to return in it to “The Conquest” with no other help but the +little midshipman; but, no, that was impracticable. + +“Well, go to sleep again,” he said to the boy. + +And jumping on shore, without uttering a word of disappointment, he was +going in search of his comrades, when he saw suddenly a man turn up out +of the darkness, whose features it was impossible to distinguish. + +“Who is there?” he asked. + +“Mr. Officer,” answered the man in an almost unintelligible jargon, a +horrible medley of French, Spanish, and English. “I heard you tell the +little man in the boat there”-- + +“Well?” + +“I thought you wanted to get back on board your ship?” + +“Why, yes.” + +“Well, then, if you like it, I am a boatman; I can take you over.” + +There was no reason why Daniel should mistrust the man. In all ports of +the world, and at any hour of the day or the night, men are to be found +who are lying in wait on the wharves for sailors who have been belated, +and who are made to pay dear for such extra services. + +“Ah! you are a boatman, you say?” Daniel exclaimed, quite pleased at the +encounter. “Well, where is your boat?” + +“There, Mr. Officer, a little way down; just follow me. But what ship do +you want to go to?” + +“That ship there.” + +And Daniel pointed out to him “The Conquest” as she lay not six hundred +yards off in the river, showing her lights. + +“That is rather far,” grumbled the man; “the tide is low; and the +current is very strong.” + +“I’ll give you a couple of francs for your trouble.” + +The man clapped his hands with delight, and said,-- + +“Ah! if that’s the way, all right. Come along, Mr. Officer, a little +farther down. There, that’s my boat. Get in, now steady!” + +Daniel followed his directions; but he was so much struck by the man’s +awkwardness in getting the boat off, that he could not help saying to +him,-- + +“Ah, my boy, you are not a boatman, after all!” + +“I beg pardon, sir; I used to be one before I came to this country.” + +“What is your country?” + +“Shanghai.” + +“Nevertheless, you will have to learn a great deal before you will ever +be a sailor.” + +Still, as the boat was very small, a mere nutshell, in fact, Daniel +thought he could, if needs be, take an oar himself. Thereupon, sitting +down, and stretching out his legs, he was soon once more plunged in +meditations. The unfortunate man was soon roused, however, by a terrible +sensation. + +Thanks to a shock, a wrong movement, or any other accident, the boat +upset, and Daniel was thrown into the river; and, to fill the measure of +his mishaps, one of his feet was so closely jammed in between the seat +and the boat itself, that he was paralyzed in his movements, and soon +under water. + +He saw it all in an instant; and his first thought was,-- + +“I am lost!” + +But, desperate as his position was, he was not the man to give up. +Gathering, by one supreme effort, all his strength and energy, he took +hold of the boat, that had turned over just above him, and pushed it so +forcibly, that he loosened his foot, and at the same moment reached the +surface. It was high time; for Daniel had swallowed much water. + +“Now,” he thought, “I have a chance to escape!” + +A very frail chance, alas!--so small a chance, in fact, that it required +all the strong will and the invincible courage of Daniel to give it +any effect. A furious current carried him down like a straw; the little +boat, which might have supported him, had disappeared; and he knew +nothing about this formidable Dong-Nai, except that it went on widening +to its mouth. There was nothing to guide him; for the night was so dark, +that land and water, the river and its banks, all melted together in the +uniform, bottomless darkness. + +What had become of the boatman, however? At all events, he called,-- + +“Ahoy, my man!” + +No answer. Had he been swept off? Or did he get back into the boat? +Perhaps he was drowned already. + +But all of a sudden Daniel’s heart trembled with joy and hope. He had +just made out, a few hundred yards below, a red light, indicating a +vessel at anchor. All his efforts were directed towards that point. +He was carried thither with an almost bewildering rapidity. He nearly +touched it; and then, with incredible presence of mind, and great +precision, at the moment when the current drove him close up to the +anchor-chain, he seized it. He held on to it; and, having recovered his +breath, he uttered three times in succession, with all the strength of +his lungs, so sharp a cry, that it was heard above the fierce roar of +the river,-- + +“Help, help, help!” + +From the ship came a call, “Hold on!” proving to him that his appeal had +been heard, and that help was at hand. + +Too late! An eddy in the terrible current seized him, and, with +irresistible violence, tore the chain, slippery with mud, out of his +stiffened hands. Rolled over by the waters, he was rudely thrown against +the side of the vessel, went under, and was carried off. + +When he rose to the surface, the red light was far above him, and below +no other light was in sight. No human help was henceforth within reach. +Daniel could now count only upon himself in trying to make one of the +banks. Although he could not measure the distance, which might be very +great, the task did not seem to him beyond his strength, if he had only +been naked. But his clothes encumbered him terribly; and the water which +they soaked up made them, of course, every moment more oppressive. + +“I shall be drowned, most assuredly,” he thought, “if I cannot get rid +of my clothes.” + +Excellent swimmer as he was, the task was no easy one. Still he +accomplished it. After prodigious efforts of strength and skill, he got +rid of his shoes; and then he cried out, as if in defiance of the blind +element against which he was struggling,-- + +“I shall pull through! I shall see Henrietta again!” + +But it had cost him an enormous amount of time to undress; and how could +he calculate the distance which this current had taken him down--one of +the swiftest in the world? As he tried to recall all he knew about it, +he remembered having noticed that, a mile below Saigon, the river was +as wide as a branch of the sea. According to his calculation, he must be +near that spot now. + +“Never mind,” he said to himself, “I mean to get out of this.” + +Not knowing to which bank he was nearest, he had resolved, almost +instinctively, to swim towards the right bank, on which Saigon stands. + +He was thus swimming for about half an hour, and began already to feel +his muscles stiffening, and his joints losing their elasticity, while +his breathing became oppressed, and his extremities were chilled, when +he noticed from the wash of the water that he was near the shore. Soon +he felt the ground under his feet; but, the moment he touched it, he +sank up to his waist into the viscous and tenacious slime, which makes +all the Cochin China rivers so peculiarly dangerous. + +There was the land, no doubt, and only the darkness prevented his seeing +it; and yet his situation was more desperate than ever. His legs were +caught as in a vice; the muddy water was boiling nearly up to his lips; +and, at every effort to extricate himself, he sank deeper in, a little +at a time, but always a little more. His presence of mind now began to +leave him, as well as his strength; and his thoughts became confused, +when he touched, instinctively feeling for a hold, the root of a +mangrove. + +That root might be the saving of his life. First he tried its strength; +then, finding it sufficiently solid, he hoisted himself up by it, +gently, but with the frenzied energy of a drowning man; then, creeping +cautiously on the treacherous mud, he finally succeeded in reaching firm +ground, and fell down exhausted. + +He was saved from drowning; but what was to become of him, naked, +exhausted, chilled as he was, and lost in this dark night in a strange +and deserted country? After a moment, however, he rose, and tried to get +on; but at every step he was held back on all sides by lianes and cactus +thorns. + +“Well,” he said, “I must stay here till day breaks.” + +The rest of the night he spent in walking up and down, and beating his +chest, in order to keep out the terrible chills which penetrated to the +very marrow of his bones. The first light of dawn showed him how he was +imprisoned within an apparently impenetrable thicket, out of which, it +seemed, he could never find his way. He did find it, however, and after +a walk of four hours, he reached Saigon. + +Some sailors of a merchant-ship, whom he met, lent him a few clothes, +and carried him on board “The Conquest,” where he arrived more dead than +alive. + +“Where do you come from, great God! in such a state?” exclaimed his +comrades when they saw him. + +“What has happened to you?” + +And, when he had told them all he had gone through since they parted, +they said,-- + +“Certainly, my dear Champcey, you are a lucky fellow. This is the second +accident from which you escape as by a miracle. Mind the third!” + +“Mind the third!” that was exactly what Daniel thought. + +For, in the midst of all the frightful sufferings he had undergone +during the past night, he had reflected deeply. That block which had +fallen on his head, no one knew whence; this boat sinking suddenly, and +without apparent cause--were they the work of chance alone? + +The awkwardness of the boatman who had so unexpectedly turned up to +offer him his services had filled his mind with strange doubts. This +man, a wretched sailor, might be a first-class swimmer; and, having +taken all his measures before upsetting the boat, he might easily have +reached land after the accident. + +“This boatman,” Daniel thought, “evidently wanted me to perish. Why, and +what purpose? Evidently not for his sake. But who is interested in my +death? Sarah Brandon? No, that cannot be!” + +What was still less likely was, that a wretch in Sarah Brandon’s pay +should have found his way on board “The Conquest,” and should then have +been precisely at the right moment at the wharf, the first time Daniel +went on shore. Still his suspicions troubled him to such a degree, that +he determined to make every effort to solve the mystery. + +To begin, he asked for a list of all the men who had been allowed to +go on shore the night before. He learned in reply, that only the crews +of the different boats had been at Saigon, but that all the emigrants +having been allowed to land, several of these men had also gone on +shore. With this information, and in spite of his great weakness, Daniel +went to the chief of police at Saigon, and asked him for an officer. +With this agent he went to the wharf, to the spot where the boat of +“The Conquest” had been lying the night before, and asked him to make +inquiries there as to any boatman that might have disappeared during the +night. + +None of the boatmen was missing; but they brought Daniel a poor Annamite +fellow, who had been wandering about the river-bank ever since early +morning, tearing his hair, and crying that he had been robbed; that +they had stolen his boat. Daniel had been unable the night before to +distinguish the form or the dress of the man whose services he had +accepted; but he had heard his voice, and he recalled the peculiar +intonation so perfectly, that he would have recognized it among +thousands. Besides, this poor devil did not know a word of French (more +than ten persons bore witness to it); and born on the river, and having +always lived there, he was an excellent sailor. Finally, it was very +clear, that, if this man had committed the crime, he would have been +careful not to claim his boat. + +What could Daniel conclude from this summary inquiry? + +“There is no doubt about it,” he thought. “I was to be murdered.” + + + + +XXIII. + +There is no man, however brave he may think himself, who would not +tremble at the idea that he has, just by a miracle, escaped from the +assassin’s hand. There is not one who would not feel his blood grow +chill in his veins at the thought that those who have failed in their +attempt once will no doubt renew their efforts, and that perhaps the +miracle may not be repeated. + +That was Daniel’s position. + +He felt henceforth this terrible certainty, that war had been declared +against him, a savage warfare, merciless, pitiless, a war of treachery +and cunning, of snare and ambush. It had been proved to him that at his +side, so to say, as his very shadow, there was ever a terrible enemy, +stimulated by the thirst of gain, watching all his steps, ever awake and +on the watch, and ready to seize the first opportunity to strike. The +infernal cunning of the first two attempts enabled Daniel to measure +the superior wickedness of the man who had been chosen and enlisted--at +least Daniel thought so--by Sarah Brandon. + +Still he did not say a word of the danger to which he was exposed, +and even assumed, as soon as he had recovered from the first shock, a +certain cheerfulness which he had not shown during the whole voyage, and +under which he concealed his apprehensions. + +“I do not want my enemy,” he said to himself, “to suspect my +suspicions.” + +But from that moment his suspicions never fell asleep; and every step +he took was guided by most careful circumspection. He never put one foot +before the other, so to say, without first having examined the ground; +he never seized a man-rope without having first tried its solidity; he +had made it a law to eat and drink nothing, not even a glass of water, +but what came from the officers’ table. + +These perpetual precautions, these ceaseless apprehensions, were +extremely repugnant to his daring temper; but he felt, that, under such +circumstances, careless would be no longer courage, but simple folly. He +had engaged in a duel in which he wanted to be victorious; hence he must +at least defend himself against the attack. He felt, moreover, that he +was the only protector his beloved had now; and that, if he died, she +would certainly be lost. But he also thought not only of defending +himself, but of getting at the assassin, and, through him, at the +infamous creature by whom he was employed, Sarah Brandon. + +He therefore pursued his search quietly, slowly, but indefatigably. +Certain circumstances which he had at first forgotten, and a few points +skilfully put together, gave him some hope. He had, for instance, +ascertained that none but the crews of the boats had been on shore, and +that, of these, not one had been for ten minutes out of sight of the +others. Hence the pretended boatman was not a sailor on board “The +Conquest.” Nor could it have been one of the marines, as none of them +had been allowed to leave the vessel. There remained the emigrants, +fifty or sixty of whom had spent the night in Saigon. + +But was not the idea that one of these men might have led Daniel into +the trap contradicted by the circumstances of the first attempt? By +no means; for many of the younger men among these emigrants had asked +permission to help in the working of the ship in order to break the +monotony of the long voyage. After careful inquiry, Daniel ascertained +even that four of them had been with the sailors on the yards from which +the heavy block fell that came so near ending his life. + +Which were they? This he could not ascertain. + +Still the result was enough for Daniel to make his life more endurable. +He could breathe again on board ship; he went and came in all safety, +since he was sure that the guilty man was not one of the crew. He even +felt real and great relief at the thought that his would-be assassin was +not to be looked for among these brave and frank sailors; none of them, +at least, had been bribed with gold to commit a murder. Moreover, the +limits of his investigations had now narrowed down in such a manner, +that he might begin to hope for success in the end. + +Unfortunately the emigrants had, a fortnight after the landing, +scattered abroad, going according as they were wanted, to the different +establishments in the colony, which were far apart from each other. +Daniel had therefore, at least for the moment, to give up a plan he had +formed, to talk with every one of them until he should recognize the +voice of the false boatman. + +He himself, besides, was not to remain at Saigon. After a first +expedition, which kept him away for two months, he obtained command of +a steam-sloop, which was ordered to explore and to take all the bearings +of the River Kamboja, from the sea to Mitho, the second city of Cochin +China. This was no easy task; for the Kamboja had already defeated the +efforts of several hydrographic engineers by its capricious and constant +changes, every pass and every turn nearly changing with the monsoons in +direction and depth. + +But the mission had its own difficulties and dangers. The Kamboja is not +only obstructed by foul swamps; but it flows through vast marshy plains, +which, in the season of rains, are covered with water; while in the +dry season, under the burning rays of the sun, they exhale that fatal +malaria which has cost already thousands of valuable lives. + +Daniel was to experience its effects but too soon. In less than a week +after he had set out, he saw three of the men who had been put under +his orders die before his eyes, after a few hours’ illness, and amid +atrocious convulsions. They had the cholera. During the next four +months, seven succumbed to fevers which they had contracted in these +pestilential swamps. And towards the end of the expedition, when the +work was nearly done, the survivors were so emaciated, that they had +hardly strength enough to hold themselves up. Daniel alone had not yet +suffered from these terrible scourges. God knows, however, that he had +not spared himself, nor ever hesitated to do what he thought he ought +to do. To sustain, to electrify these men, exhausted as they were by +sickness, and irritated at wasting their lives upon work that had no +reward, a leader was required who should possess uncommon intrepidity, +and who should treat danger as an enemy who is to be defied only by +facing him; and such a leader they found in Daniel. + +He had told Sarah Brandon on the eve of his departure,-- + +“With a love like mine, with a hatred like mine, in the heart, one can +defy all things. The murderous climate is not going to harm me; and, if +I had six balls in my body, I should still find strength enough to come +and call you to account for what you have done to Henrietta before I +die.” + +He certainly had had need of all that dauntless energy which passion +inspires to sustain him in his trials. But alas! his bodily sufferings +were as nothing in comparison with his mental anxiety. At night, while +his men were asleep, he kept awake, his heart torn with anguish, now +crushed under the thought of his helplessness, and now asking himself if +rage would not deprive him of his reason. + +It was a year now since he had left Paris to go on board “The Conquest,” + a whole year. + +And he had not received a single letter from Henrietta,--not one. Every +time a vessel arrived from France with despatches, his hopes revived; +and every time they were disappointed. + +“Well,” he would say to himself, “I can wait for the next.” And then he +began counting the days. Then it arrived at last, this long-expected +ship, and never, never once brought a letter from Henrietta-- + +How could this silence be explained? What strange events could have +happened? What must he think, hope, fear? + +To be chained by honor to a place a thousand leagues from the woman he +loved to distraction, to know nothing about her, her life, her actions +and her thoughts, to be reduced to such extreme wretchedness, to doubt-- + +Daniel would have been much less unhappy if some one had suddenly come +and told him, “Miss Ville-Handry is no more.” + +Yes, less unhappy; for true love in its savage selfishness suffers less +from death than from treason. If Henrietta had died, Daniel would +have been crushed; and maybe despair would have driven him to extreme +measures; but he would have been relieved of that horrible struggle +within him, between his faith in the promises of his beloved and certain +suspicions, which caused his hair to stand on end. + +But he knew that she was alive; for there was hardly a vessel coming +from France or from England which did not bring him a letter from +Maxime, or from the Countess Sarah. For Sarah insisted upon writing +to him, as if there existed a mysterious bond between them, which she +defied him to break. + +“I obey,” she said, “an impulse more powerful than reason and will +alike. It is stronger than I am, stronger than all things else; I must +write to you, I cannot help it.” + +At another time she said,-- + +“Do you remember that evening, O Daniel! when, pressing Sarah Brandon +to your heart, you swore to be hers forever? The Countess Ville-Handry +cannot forget it.” + +Under the most indifferent words there seemed to palpitate and to +struggle a passion which was but partially restrained, and ever on the +point of breaking forth. Her letters read like the conversations of +timid lovers, who talk about the rain and the weather in a tone of voice +trembling with desire, and with looks burning with passion. + +“Could she really be in love with me?” Daniel thought, “and could that +be her punishment?” + +Then, again, swearing, like the roughest of his men, he added,-- + +“Am I to be a fool forever? Is it not quite clear that this wicked woman +only tries to put my suspicions to sleep? She is evidently preparing for +her defence, in case the rascal who attempted my life should be caught, +and compromise her by his confessions.” + +Every letter; moreover, brought from the Countess Sarah some news about +his betrothed, her “stepdaughter.” But she always spoke of her with +extreme reserve and reticence, and in ambiguous terms, as if counting +upon Daniel’s sagacity to guess what she could not or would not write. +According to her account, Henrietta had become reconciled to her +father’s marriage. The poor child’s melancholy had entirely disappeared. +Miss Henrietta was very friendly with Sir Thorn. The coquettish ways of +the young girl became quite alarming; and her indiscretion provoked the +gossip of visitors. Daniel might as well accustom himself to the idea, +that, on his return, he might find Henrietta a married woman. + +“She lies, the wretch!” said Daniel; “yes, she lies!” + +But he tried in vain to resist; every letter from Sarah brought him the +germ of some new suspicion, which fermented in his mind as the miasma +fermented in the veins of his men. + +The information furnished by Maxime de Brevan was different, and +often contradictory even, but by no means more reassuring. His letters +portrayed the perplexity and the hesitation of a man who is all anxiety +to soften hard truths. According to him, the Countess Sarah and Miss +Ville-Handry did not get on well with each other; but he declared he was +bound to say that the wrong was all on the young lady’s side, who seemed +to make it the study of her life to mortify her step-mother, while the +latter bore the most irritating provocations with unchanging sweetness. +He alluded to the calumnies which endangered Miss Henrietta’s +reputation, admitting that she had given some ground for them by +thoughtless acts. He finally added that he foresaw the moment when +she would leave her father’s house in spite of all his advice to the +contrary. + +“And not one line from her,” exclaimed Daniel,--“not one line!” + +And he wrote her letter after letter, beseeching her to answer him, +whatever might be the matter, and to fear nothing, as the certainty +even of a misfortune would be a blessing to him in comparison with this +torturing uncertainty. + +He wrote without imagining for a moment that Henrietta suffered all the +torments he endured, that their letters were intercepted, and that she +had no more news of him than he had of her. + +Time passed, however, carrying with it the evil as well as the good +days. Daniel returned to Saigon, bringing back with him one of the +finest hydrographic works that exist on Cochin China. It was well known +that this work had cost an immense outlay of labor, of privations, and +of life; hence he was rewarded as if he had won a battle, and he was +rewarded instantly, thanks to special powers conferred upon his chief, +reserving only the confirmation in France, which was never refused. + +All the survivors of the expedition were mentioned in public orders and +in the official report; two were decorated; and Daniel was promoted +to officer of the Legion of Honor. Under other circumstances, this +distinction, doubly valuable to so young a man, would have made him +supremely happy; now it left him cold. + +The fact was, that these long trials had worn out the elasticity of his +heart; and the sources of joy, as well as the sources of sorrow, had +dried up. He no longer struggled against despair, and came to believe +that Henrietta had forgotten him, and would never be his wife. Now, as +he knew he never could love another, or rather as no other existed +for him; as, without Henrietta, the world seemed to him empty, absurd, +intolerable,--he asked himself why he should continue to live. There +were moments in which he looked lovingly at his pistols, and said to +himself,-- + +“Why should I not spare Sarah Brandon the trouble?” + +What kept his hand back was the leaven of hatred which still rose in him +at times. He ought to have the courage, at least, to live long enough to +avenge himself. Harassed by these anxieties, he withdrew more and +more from society; never went on shore; and his comrades on board “The +Conquest” felt anxious as they looked at him walking restlessly up and +down the quarter-deck, pale, and with eyes on fire. + +For they loved Daniel. His superiority was so evident, that none +disputed it; they might envy him; but they could never be jealous of +him. Some of them thought he had brought back with him from Kamboja the +germ of one of those implacable diseases which demoralize the strongest, +and which break out suddenly, carrying a man off in a few hours. + +“You ought not to become a misanthrope, my dear Champcey,” they would +say. “Come, for Heaven’s sake shake off that sadness, which might make +an end of you before you are aware of it!” + +And jestingly they added,-- + +“Decidedly, you regret the banks of the Kamboja!” + +They thought it a jest: it was the truth. Daniel did regret even the +worst days of his mission. At that time his grave responsibility, +overwhelming fatigues, hard work, and daily danger, had procured him at +least some hours of oblivion. Now idleness left him, without respite or +time, face to face with his distressing thoughts. It was the desire, the +necessity almost, of escaping in some manner from himself, which made +him accept an invitation to join a number of his comrades who wanted to +try the charms of a great hunting party. + +On the morning of the expedition, however, he had a kind of +presentiment. + +“A fine opportunity,” he thought, “for the assassin hired by Sarah +Brandon!” + +Then, shrugging his shoulders, he said with a bitter laugh,-- + +“How can I hesitate? As if a life like mine was worth the trouble of +protecting it against danger!” + +When they arrived on the following day on the hunting ground, he, as +well as the other hunters, received their instructions, and had their +posts assigned them by the leader. He found himself placed between two +of his comrades, in front of a thicket, and facing a narrow ravine, +through which all the game must necessarily pass as it was driven down +by a crowd of Annamites. + +They had been firing for an hour, when Daniel’s neighbors saw him +suddenly let go his rifle, turn over, and fall. + +They hurried up to catch him; but he fell, face forward, to the ground, +saying aloud, and very distinctly,-- + +“This time they have not missed me!” + +At the outcry raised by the two neighbors of Daniel, other hunters had +hastened up, and among them the chief surgeon of “The Conquest,” one of +those old “pill-makers,” who, under a jovial scepticism, and a rough, +almost brutal outside, conceal great skill and an almost feminine +tenderness. As soon as he looked at the wounded man, whom his friends +had stretched out on his back, making a pillow of their overcoats, and +who lay there pale and inanimate, the good doctor frowned, and growled +out,-- + +“He won’t live.” + +The officers were thunderstruck. + +“Poor Champcey!” said one of them, “to escape the Kamboja fevers, and to +be killed here at a pleasure party! Do you recollect, doctor, what you +said on the occasion of his second accident,--‘Mind the third’?” + +The old doctor did not listen. He had knelt down, and rapidly stripped +the coat off Daniel’s back. The poor man had been struck by a shot. The +ball had entered on the right side, a little behind; and between the +fourth and the fifth rib, one could see a round wound, the edges drawn +in. But the most careful examination did not enable him to find the +place where the projectile had come out again. The doctor rose slowly, +and, while carefully dusting the knees of his trousers, he said,-- + +“All things considered, I would not bet that he may not escape. Who +knows where the ball may be lodged? It may have respected the vital +parts. + +“Projectiles often take curious turns and twists. I should almost be +disposed to answer for M. Champcey, if I had him in a good bed in the +hospital at Saigon. At all events, we must try to get him there alive. +Let one of you gentlemen tell the sailors who have come with us to make +a litter of branches.” + +The noise of a struggle, of fearful oaths and inarticulate cries, +interrupted his orders. Some fifteen yards off, below the place where +Daniel had fallen, two sailors were coming out of the thicket, their +faces red with anger, dragging out a man with a wretched gun, who hurled +out,-- + +“Will you let me go, you parcel of good-for-nothings! Let me go, or I’ll +hurt you!” + +He was so furiously struggling in the arms of the two sailors, clinging +with an iron grip to roots and branches and rocks, turning and twisting +at every step, that the men at last, furious at his resistance, lifted +him up bodily, and threw him at the chief surgeon’s feet, exclaiming,-- + +“Here is the scoundrel who has killed our lieutenant!” + +It was a man of medium size, with a dejected air, and lack-lustre eyes, +wearing a mustache and chin-beard, and looking impudent. His costume +was that of an Annamite of the middle classes,--a blouse buttoned at +the side, trousers made in Chinese style, and sandals of red leather. It +was, nevertheless, quite evident that the man was a European. + +“Where did you find him?” asked the surgeon of the men. + +“Down there, commandant, behind that big bush, to the right of Lieut. +Champcey, and a little behind him.” + +“Why do you accuse him?” + +“Why? We have good reasons, I should think. He was hiding. When we saw +him, he was lying flat on the ground, trembling with fear; and we said +at once, ‘Surely, there is the man who fired that shot.’” + +The man had, in the meantime, raised himself, and assumed an air of +almost provoking assurance. + +“They lie!” he exclaimed. “Yes, they lie, the cowards!” + +This insult would have procured him a sound drubbing, but for the old +surgeon, who held the arm of the first sailor who made the attack. Then, +continuing his interrogatory, he asked,-- + +“Why did you hide?” + +“I did not hide.” + +“What were you doing there, crouching in the bush?” + +“I was at my post, like the others. Do they require a permit to carry +arms in Cochin China? I was not invited to your hunting party, to be +sure; but I am fond of game; and I said to myself, ‘Even if I were to +shoot two or three head out of the hundreds their drivers will bring +down, I would do them no great harm.’” + +The doctor let him talk on for some time, observing him closely with his +sagacious eye; then, all of a sudden, he broke in, saying,-- + +“Give me your gun!” + +The man turned so visibly pale, that all the officers standing around +noticed it. Still he did what he was asked to do, and said,-- + +“Here it is. It’s a gun one of my friends has lent me.” + +The doctor examined the weapon very carefully; and, after having +inspected the lock, he said,-- + +“Both barrels of your gun are empty; and they have not been emptied more +than two minutes ago.” + +“That is so; I fired both barrels at an animal that passed me within +reach.” + +“One of the balls may have gone astray.” + +“That cannot be. I was aiming in the direction of the prairie; and, +consequently, I was turning my back to the place where the officer was +standing.” + +To the great surprise of everybody, the doctor’s face, ordinarily crafty +enough, now looked all benevolent curiosity,--so much so, that the two +sailors who had captured the man were furious, and said aloud,-- + +“Ah! don’t believe him, commandant, the dirty dog!” + +But the man, evidently encouraged by the surgeon’s apparent kindliness, +asked,-- + +“Am I to be allowed to defend myself, or not?” + +And then he added in a tone of supreme impudence,-- + +“However, whether I defend myself or not, it will, no doubt, be all +the same. Ah! if I were only a sailor, or even a marine, that would be +another pair of sleeves; they would hear me! But now, I am nothing but +a poor civilian; and here everybody knows civilians must have broad +shoulders. Wrong or right, as soon as they are accused, they are +convicted.” + +The doctor seemed to have made up his mind; for he interrupted this flow +of words, saying in his kindest voice,-- + +“Calm yourself, my friend. There is a test which will clearly establish +your innocence. The ball that has struck Lieut. Champcey is still in the +wound; and I am the man who is going to take it out, I promise you. We +all here have rifles with conical balls; you are the only one who has an +ordinary shot-gun with round balls, so there is no mistake possible. I +do not know if you understand me?” + +Yes, he understood, and so well, that his pale face turned livid, and +he looked all around with frightened glances. For about six seconds he +hesitated, counting his chances; then suddenly falling on his knees, his +hands folded, and beating the ground with his forehead, he cried out,-- + +“I confess! Yes, it may be I who have hit the officer. I heard +the bushes moving in his direction, and I fired at a guess. What a +misfortune! O God, what a misfortune! Ah! _I_ would give my life to save +his if I could. It was an accident, gentlemen, I swear. Such accidents +happen every day in hunting; the papers are full of them. Great God! +what an unfortunate man I am!” + +The doctor had stepped back. He now ordered the two sailors who had +arrested the man, to make sure of him, to bind him, and carry him to +Saigon to prison. One of the gentlemen, he said, would write a few +lines, which they must take with them. The man seemed to be annihilated. + +“A misfortune is not a crime,” he sighed out. “I am an honest mechanic.” + +“We shall see that in Saigon,” answered the surgeon. + +And he hastened away to see if all the preparations had been made +to carry the wounded man. In less than twenty minutes, and with that +marvellous skill which is one of the characteristic features of good +sailors, a solid litter had been constructed; the bottom formed a real +mattress of dry leaves; and overhead a kind of screen had been made of +larger leaves. When they put Daniel in, the pain caused him to utter a +low cry of pain. This was the first sign of life he had given. + +“And now, my friends,” said the doctor, “let us go! And bear in mind, if +you shake the lieutenant, he is a dead man.” + +It was hardly eight in the morning when the melancholy procession +started homeward; and it was not until between two and three o’clock on +the next morning that it entered Saigon, under one of those overwhelming +rains which give one an idea of the deluge, and of which Cochin China +has the monopoly. The sailors who carried the litter on which Daniel +lay had walked eighteen hours without stopping, on footpaths which +were almost impassable, and where every moment a passage had to be cut +through impenetrable thickets of aloes, cactus, and jack-trees. Several +times the officers had offered to take their places; but they had always +refused, relieving each other, and taking all the time as ingenious +precautions as a mother might devise for her dying infant. Although, +therefore, the march lasted so long, the dying man felt no shock; and +the old doctor said, quite touched, to the officers who were around +him,-- + +“Good fellows, how careful they are! You might have put a full glass of +water on the litter, and they would not have spilled a drop.” + +Yes, indeed! Good people, rude and rough, no doubt, in many ways, coarse +sometimes, and even brutal, bad to meet on shore the day after pay-day, +or coming out from a drinking-shop, but keeping under the rough outside +a heart of gold, childlike simplicity, and the sacred fire of noblest +devotion. The fact was, they did not dare breathe heartily till after +they had put their precious burden safe under the hospital porch. + +Two officers who had hastened in advance had ordered a room to be made +ready. Daniel was carried there; and when he had been gently put on a +white, good bed, officers and sailors withdrew into an adjoining room to +await the doctor’s sentence. The latter remained with the wounded man, +with two assistant surgeons who had been roused in the meantime. + +Hope was very faint. Daniel had recovered his consciousness during +the journey, and had even spoken a few words to those around him, but +incoherent words, the utterance of delirium. They had questioned him +once or twice; but his answers had shown that he had no consciousness +of the accident which had befallen him, nor of his present condition; so +that the general opinion among the sailors who were waiting, and who all +had more or less experience of shot-wounds, was, that fever would carry +off their lieutenant before sunrise. + +Suddenly, as if by magic, all was hushed, and not a word spoken. + +The old surgeon had just appeared at the door of the sick-chamber; and, +with a pleasant and hopeful smile on his lips, he said,-- + +“Our poor Champcey is doing as well as could be expected; and I would +almost be sure of his recovery, if the great heat was not upon us.” + +And, silencing the murmur of satisfaction which arose among them at this +good news, he went on to say,-- + +“Because, after all, serious as the wound is, it is nothing in +comparison with what it might have been; and what is more, gentlemen, I +have the _corpus delicti_.” + +He raised in the air, as he said this, a spherical ball, which he held +between his thumb and forefinger. + +“Another instance,” he said, “to be added to those mentioned by our +great masters of surgery, of the oddities of projectiles. This one, +instead of pursuing its way straight through the body of our poor +friend, had turned around the ribs, and gone to its place close by the +vertebral column. There I found it, almost on the surface; and nothing +was needed to dislodge it but a slight push with the probe.” + +The shot-gun taken from the hands of the murderer had been deposited +in a corner of the large room: they brought it up, tried the ball, and +found it to fit accurately. + +“Now we have a tangible proof,” exclaimed a young ensign, “an +unmistakable proof, that the wretch whom our men have caught is Daniel’s +murderer. Ah, he might as well have kept his confession!” + +But the old surgeon replied with a dark frown,-- + +“Gently, gentlemen, gently! Don’t let us be over-hasty in accusing a +poor fellow of such a fearful crime, when, perhaps, he is guilty only of +imprudence.” + +“O doctor, doctor!” protested half a dozen voices. + +“I beg your pardon! Don’t let us be hasty, I say; and let us consider, +For an assassination there must be a motive, and an all-powerful motive; +for, aside from the scaffold which he risks, no man is capable of +killing another man solely for the purpose of shedding his blood. Now, +in this case, I look in vain for any reason, which could have induced +the man to commit a murder. He certainly did not expect to rob our poor +comrade. But hatred, you say, or vengeance, perhaps! Well, that may be. +But, before a man makes up his mind to shoot even the man he hates like +a dog, he must have been cruelly offended by him; and, to bring this +about, he must have been in contact, or must have stood in some relation +to him. Now, I ask you, is it not far more probable that the murderer +saw our friend Champcey this morning for the first time?” + +“I beg your pardon, commandant! He knew him perfectly well.” + +The man who interrupted the doctor was one of the sailors to whom the +prisoner had been intrusted to carry him to prison. He came forward, +twisting his worsted cap in his hands; and, when the old surgeon had +ordered him to speak, he said,-- + +“Yes, the rascal knew the lieutenant as well as I know you, commandant; +and the reason of it is, that the scoundrel was one of the emigrants +whom we brought here eighteen months ago.” + +“Are you sure of what you say?” + +“As sure as I see you, commandant. At first my comrade and I did not +recognize him, because a year and a half in this wretched country +disfigure a man horribly; but, while we were carrying him to jail, we +said to one another, ‘That is a head we have seen before.’ Then we +made him talk; and he told us gradually, that he had been one of the +passengers, and that he even knew my name, which is Baptist Lefloch.” + +This deposition of the sailor made a great impression upon all the +bystanders, except the old doctor. It is true he was looked upon, on +board “The Conquest,” as one of the most obstinate men in holding on to +his opinions. + +“Do you know,” he asked the sailor, “if this man was one of the four or +five who had to be put in irons during the voyage?” + +“No, he was not one of them, commandant.” + +“Did he ever have anything to do with Lieut. Champcey? Has he been +reprimanded by him, or punished? Has he ever spoken to him?” + +“Ah, commandant! that is more than I can tell.” + +The old doctor slightly shrugged his shoulders, and said in a tone of +indifference,-- + +“You see, gentlemen, this deposition is too vague to prove anything. +Believe me, therefore, do not let us judge before the trial, and let us +go to bed.” + +Day was just breaking, pale and cool; the sailors disappeared one by +one. The doctor was getting ready to lie down on a bed which he had +ordered to be put up in a room adjoining that in which the wounded man +was lying, when an officer came in. It was one of those who had been +standing near Champcey; he, also, was a lieutenant. + +“I should like to have a word in private with you, doctor,” he said. + +“Very well,” replied the old surgeon. “Be kind enough to come up to my +room.” And when they were alone, he locked the door, and said,-- + +“I am listening.” + +The lieutenant thought a moment, like a man who looks for the best form +in which to present an important idea, and then said,-- + +“Between us, doctor, do you believe it was an accident, or a crime?” + +The surgeon hesitated visibly. + +“I will tell you, but you only, frankly, that I do not believe it was an +accident. But as we have no evidence”-- + +“Pardon me! I think I have evidence.” + +“Oh!” + +“You shall, judge yourself. When Daniel fell, he said, ‘This time, they +have not missed me!’” + +“Did he say so?” + +“Word for word. And Saint Edme, who was farther from him than I was, +heard it as distinctly as I did.” + +To the great surprise of the lieutenant, the chief surgeon seemed only +moderately surprised; his eyes, on the contrary, shone with that pleased +air of a man who congratulates himself at having foreseen exactly what +he now is told was the fact. He drew a chair up to the fireplace, in +which a huge fire had been kindled to dry his clothes, sat down, and +said,-- + +“Do you know, my dear lieutenant, that what you tell me is a matter +of the greatest importance? What may we not conclude from those words, +‘This time they have not missed me’? In the first place, it proves that +Champcey was fully aware that his life was in danger. Secondly, +that plural, ‘They have not,’ shows that he knew he was watched and +threatened by several people: hence the scamp whom we caught must have +accomplices. In the third place, those words, ‘This time,’ establish the +fact that his life has been attempted before.” + +“That is just what I thought, doctor.” + +The worthy old gentleman looked very grave and solemn, meditating +deeply. + +“Well, I,” he continued slowly, “I had a very clear presentiment of +all that as soon as I looked at the murderer. Do you remember the man’s +amazing impudence as long as he thought he could not be convicted of the +crime? And then, when he found that the calibre of his gun betrayed him, +how abject, how painfully humble, he became! Evidently such a man is +capable of anything.” + +“Oh! you need only look at him”-- + +“Yes, indeed! Well, as I was thus watching him, I instinctively +recalled the two remarkable accidents which so nearly killed our poor +Champcey,--that block that fell upon him from the skies, and that +shipwreck in the Dong-Nai. But I was still doubtful. After what you tell +me, I am sure.” + +He seized the lieutenant’s hand; and, pressing it almost painfully, he +went on,-- + +“Yes, I am ready to take my oath that this wretch is the vile tool of +people who hate or fear Daniel Champcey; who are deeply interested in +his death; and who, being too cowardly to do their own business, are +rich enough to hire an assassin.” + +The lieutenant was evidently unable to follow. + +“Still, doctor,” he objected, “but just now you insisted”-- + +“Upon a diametrically opposite doctrine; eh?” + +“Precisely.” + +The old surgeon smiled, and said,-- + +“I had my reasons. The more I am persuaded that this man is an +assassin, the less I am disposed to proclaim it on the housetops. He has +accomplices, you think, do you?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Well, if we wish to reach them, we must by all means reassure them, +leave them under the impression that everybody thinks it was an +accident. If they are frightened, good-night. They will vanish before +you can put out your hand to seize them.” + +“Champcey might be questioned; perhaps he could furnish some +information.” + +But the doctor rose, and stopped him with an air of fury,-- + +“Question my patient! Kill him, you mean! No! If I am to have the +wonderful good luck to pull him through, no one shall come near his bed +for a month. And, moreover, it will be very fortunate indeed if in a +month he is sufficiently recovered to keep up a conversation.” + +He shook his head, and went on, after a moment’s silence,-- + +“Besides, it is a question whether Champcey would be disposed to say +what he knows, or what he suspects. That is very doubtful. Twice he has +been almost killed. Has he ever said a word about it? He probably has +the same reasons for keeping silence now that he had then.” + +Then, without noticing the officer’s objections, he added,-- + +“At all events, I will think it over, and go and see the judges as +soon as they are out of bed. But I must ask you, lieutenant, to keep my +secret till further order. Will you promise?” + +“On my word, doctor.” + +“Then you may rest assured our poor friend shall be avenged. And now, as +I have barely two hours to rest, please excuse me.” + + + + +XXIV. + +As soon as he was alone, the doctor threw himself on his bed; but he +could not sleep. He had never in his life been so much puzzled. He +felt as if this crime was the result of some terrible but mysterious +intrigue; and the very fact of having, as he fancied, raised a corner of +the veil, made him burn with the desire to draw it aside altogether. + +“Why,” he said to himself, “why might not the scamp whom we hold be the +author of the other two attempts likewise? There is nothing improbable +in that supposition. The man, once engaged, might easily have been put +on board ‘The Conquest;’ and he might have left France saying to himself +that it would be odd indeed, if during a long voyage, or in a land like +this, he did not find a chance to earn his money without running much +risk.” + +The result of his meditations was, that the chief surgeon appeared, at +nine o’clock, at the office of the state attorney. He placed the matter +before him very fully and plainly; and, an hour afterwards, he crossed +the yard on his way to the prison, accompanied by a magistrate and his +clerk. + +“How is the man the sailors brought here last night?” he asked the +jailer. + +“Badly, sir. He would not eat.” + +“What did he say when he got here?” + +“Nothing. He seemed to be stupefied.” + +“You did not try to make him talk?” + +“Why, yes, a little. He answered that he had done some mischief; that he +was in despair, and wished he were dead.” + +The magistrate looked at the surgeon as if he meant to say, “Just as I +expected from what you told me!” Then, turning again to the jailer, he +said,-- + +“Show us to the prisoner’s cell.” + +The murderer had been put into a small but tidy cell in the first story. +When they entered, they found him seated on his bed, his heels on the +bars, and his chin in the palm of his hands. As soon as he saw the +surgeon, he jumped up, and with outstretched arms and rolling eyes, +exclaimed,-- + +“The officer has died!” + +“No,” replied the surgeon, “no! Calm yourself. The wound is a very bad +one; but in a fortnight he will be up again.” + +These words fell like a heavy blow upon the murderer. He turned pale; +his lips quivered; and he trembled in all his limbs. Still he promptly +mastered this weakness of the flesh; and falling on his knees, with +folded hands, he murmured in the most dramatic manner,-- + +“Then I am not a murderer! O Great God, I thank thee!” + +And his lips moved as if he were uttering a fervent prayer. + +It was evidently a case of coarsest hypocrisy; for his looks +contradicted his words and his voice. The magistrate, however, seemed to +be taken in. + +“You show proper feelings,” he said. “Now get up and answer me. What is +your name?” + +“Evariste Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet.” + +“What age?” + +“Thirty-five years.” + +“Where were you born?” + +“At Bagnolet, near Paris. And on that account, my friend”-- + +“Never mind. Your profession?” + +The man hesitated. The magistrate added,-- + +“In your own interest I advise you to tell the truth. The truth always +comes out in the end; and your position would be a very serious one if +you tried to lie. Answer, therefore, directly.” + +“Well, I am an engraver on metal; but I have been in the army; I served +my time in the marines.” + +“What brought you to Cochin China?” + +“The desire to find work. I was tired of Paris. There was no work for +engravers. I met a friend who told me the government wanted good workmen +for the colonies.” + +“What was your friend’s name?” + +A slight blush passed over the man’s cheek’s, and he answered hastily,-- + +“I have forgotten his name.” + +The magistrate seemed to redouble his attention, although he did not +show it. + +“That is very unfortunate for you,” he answered coldly. “Come, make an +effort; try to remember.” + +“I know I cannot; it is not worth the trouble.” + +“Well; but no doubt you recollect the profession of the man who knew so +well that government wanted men in Cochin China? What was it?” + +The man, this time, turned crimson with rage, and cried out with +extraordinary vehemence,-- + +“How do I know? Besides, what have I to do with my friend’s name and +profession? I learned from him that they wanted workmen. I called at the +navy department, they engaged me; and that is all.” + +Standing quietly in one of the corners of the cell, the old chief +surgeon lost not a word, not a gesture, of the murderer. And he could +hardly refrain from rubbing his hands with delight as he noticed the +marvellous skill of the magistrate in seizing upon all those little +signs, which, when summed up at the end of an investigation, form an +overwhelming mass of evidence against the criminal. The magistrate, in +the meantime, went on with the same impassive air,-- + +“Let us leave that question, then, since it seems to irritate you, and +let us go on to your residence here. How have you supported yourself at +Saigon?” + +“By my work, forsooth! _I_ have two arms; and I am not a good-for- +nothing.” + +“You have found employment, you say, as engraver on metal?” + +“No.” + +“But you said”-- + +Evariste Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, could hardly conceal his +impatience. + +“If you won’t let me have my say,” he broke out insolently, “it isn’t +worth while questioning me.” + +The magistrate seemed not to notice it. He answered coldly,-- + +“Oh! talk as much as you want. I can wait.” + +“Well, then, the day after we had landed, M. Farniol, the owner of the +French restaurant, offered me a place as waiter. Of course I accepted, +and stayed there a year. Now I wait at table at the Hotel de France, +kept by M. Roy. You can send for my two masters; they will tell you +whether there is any complaint against me.” + +“They will certainly be examined. And where do you live?” + +“At the Hotel de France, of course, where I am employed.” + +The magistrate’s face looked more and more benevolent. He asked next,-- + +“And that is a good place,--to be waiter at a restaurant or a hotel?” + +“Why, yes--pretty good.” + +“They pay well; eh?” + +“That depends,--sometimes they do; at other times they don’t. When it is +the season”-- + +“That is so everywhere. But let us be accurate. You have been now +eighteen months in Saigon; no doubt you have laid up something?” + +The man looked troubled and amazed, as if he had suddenly found out that +the apparent benevolence of the magistrate had led him upon slippery and +dangerous ground. He said evasively,-- + +“If I have put anything aside, it is not worth mentioning.” + +“On the contrary, let us mention it. How much about have you saved?” + +Bagnolet’s looks, and the tremor of his lips, showed the rage that was +devouring him. + +“I don’t know,” he said sharply. + +The magistrate made a gesture of surprise which was admirable. He +added,-- + +“What! You don’t know how much you have laid up? That is too improbable! +When people save money, one cent after another, to provide for their old +age, they know pretty well”-- + +“Well, then, take it for granted that I have saved nothing.” + +“As you like it. Only it is my duty to show you the effect of your +declaration. You tell me you have not laid up any money, don’t you? Now, +what would you say, if, upon search being made, the police should find a +certain sum of money on your person or elsewhere?” + +“They won’t find any.” + +“So much the better for you; for, after what you said, it would be a +terrible charge.” + +“Let them search.” + +“They are doing it now, and not only in your room, but also elsewhere. +They will soon know if you have invested any money, or if you have +deposited it with any of your acquaintances.” + +“I may have brought some money with me from home.” + +“No; for you have told me that you could no longer live in Paris, +finding no work.” + +Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, made such a sudden and violent start, that +the surgeon thought he was going to attack the magistrate. He felt he +had been caught in a net the meshes of which were drawing tighter and +tighter around him; and these apparently inoffensive questions assumed +suddenly a terrible meaning. + +“Just answer me in one word,” said the magistrate. “Did you bring any +money from France, or did you not?” + +The man rose, and his lips opened to utter a curse; but he checked +himself, sat down again, and, laughing ferociously, he said,-- + +“Ah! you would like to ‘squeeze’ me, and make me cut my own throat. But +luckily, I can see through you; and I refuse to answer.” + +“You mean you want to consider. Have a care! You need not consider in +order to tell the truth.” + +And, as the man remained obstinately silent, the magistrate began again +after a pause, saying,-- + +“You know what you are accused of? They suspect that you fired at Lieut. +Champcey with intent to kill.” + +“That is an abominable lie!” + +“So you say. How did you hear that the officers of ‘The Conquest’ had +arranged a large hunting-party?” + +“I had heard them speak of it at _table d’hote_.” + +“And you left your service in order to attend this hunt, some twelve +miles from Saigon? That is certainly singular.” + +“Not at all; for I am very fond of hunting. And then I thought, if I +could bring back a large quantity of game, I would probably be able to +sell it very well.” + +“And you would have added the profit to your other savings, wouldn’t +you?” + +Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, was stung by the point of this ironical +question, as if he had received a sharp cut. But, as he said nothing, +the magistrate continued,-- + +“Explain to us how the thing happened.” + +On this ground the murderer knew he was at home, having had ample time +to get ready; and with an accuracy which did great honor to his memory, +or to his veracity, he repeated what he had told the surgeon on the +spot, and at the time of the catastrophe. He only added, that he had +concealed himself, because he had seen at once to what terrible charges +he would be exposed by his awkwardness. And as he continued his account, +warming up with its plausibility, he recovered the impudence, or +rather the insolence, which seemed to be the prominent feature of his +character. + +“Do you know the officer whom you have wounded?” asked the magistrate +when he had finished. + +“Of course, I do, as I have made the voyage with him. He is Lieut. +Champcey.” + +“Have you any complaint against him?” + +“None at all.” + +Then he added in a tone of bitterness and resentment,-- + +“What relations do you think could there be between a poor devil like +myself and a great personage like him? Would he have condescended even +to look at me? Would I have dared to speak to him? If I know him, it is +only because I have seen him, from afar off, walk the quarter-deck with +the other officers, a cigar in his mouth, after a good meal, while we +in the forecastle had our salt fish, and broke our teeth with worm-eaten +hard-tack.” + +“So you had no reason to hate him?” + +“None; as little as anybody else.” + +Seated upon a wretched little footstool, his paper on his knees, an +inkhorn in his hand, the clerk was rapidly taking down the questions and +the answers. The magistrate made him a sign that it was ended, and then +said, turning to the murderer,-- + +“That is enough for to-day. I am bound to tell you, that, having so far +only kept you as a matter of precaution, I shall issue now an order for +your arrest.” + +“You mean I am to be put in jail?” + +“Yes, until the court shall decide whether you are _guilty_ of murder, +or of involuntary homicide.” + +Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, seemed to have foreseen this conclusion: at +least he coolly shrugged his shoulders, and said in a hoarse voice,-- + +“In that case I shall have my linen changed pretty often here; for, if I +had been wicked enough to plot an assassination, I should not have been +fool enough to say so.” + +“Who knows?” replied the magistrate. “Some evidence is as good as an +avowal.” + +And, turning to the clerk, he said,-- + +“Read the deposition to the accused.” + +A moment afterwards, when this formality had been fulfilled, the +magistrate and the old doctor left the room. The former looked extremely +grave, and said,-- + +“You were right, doctor; that man is a murderer. The so-called friend, +whose name he would not tell us, is no other person than the rascal +whose tool he is. And I mean to get that person’s name out of him, if +M. Champcey recovers, and will give me the slightest hint. Therefore, +doctor, nurse your patient.” + +To recommend Daniel to the surgeon was at least superfluous. If the old +original was inexorable, as they said on board ship, for those lazy ones +who pretended to be sick for the purpose of shirking work, he was all +tenderness for his real patients; and his tenderness grew with the +seriousness of their danger. He would not have hesitated a moment +between an admiral who was slightly unwell, and the youngest midshipman +of the fleet who was dangerously wounded. The admiral might have waited +a long time before he would have left the midshipman,--an originality +far less frequent than we imagine. + +It would have been enough, therefore, for Daniel to be so dangerously +wounded. But there was something else besides. Like all who had ever +sailed with Daniel, the surgeon, also, had conceived a lively interest +in him, and was filled with admiration for his character. Besides that, +he knew that his patient alone could solve this great mystery, which +puzzled him exceedingly. + +Unfortunately, Daniel’s condition was one of those which defy all +professional skill, and where all hope depends upon time, nature, and +constitution. To try to question him would have been absurd; for he +had so far continued delirious. At times he thought he was on board +his sloop in the swamps of the Kamboja; but most frequently he imagined +himself fighting against enemies bent upon his ruin. The names of Sarah +Brandon, Mrs. Brian, and Thomas Elgin, were constantly on his lips, +mixed up with imprecations and fearful threats. + +For twenty days he remained so; and for twenty days and twenty nights +his “man,” Baptist Lefloch, who had caught the murderer, was by his +bedside, watching his slightest movement, and ever bending over him +tenderly. Not one of those noble daughters of divine wisdom, whom we +meet in every part of the globe, wherever there is a sick man to nurse, +could have been more patient, more attentive, or more ingenious, than +this common sailor. He had put off his shoes, so as to walk more softly; +and he came and went on tiptoe, his face full of care and anxiety, +preparing draughts, and handling with his huge bony hands, with +laughable, but almost touching precautions, the small phials out of +which he had to give a spoonful to his patient at stated times. + +“I’ll have you appointed head nurse of the navy, Lefloch,” said the old +surgeon. + +But he shook his head and answered,-- + +“I would not like the place, commandant. Only, you see, when we were +down there on the Kamboja, and Baptist Lefloch was writhing like a worm +in the grip of the cholera, and when he was already quite blue and cold, +Lieut. Champcey did not send for one of those lazy Annamites to rub him, +he came himself, and rubbed him till he brought back the heat and life +itself. Now, you see, I want to do some little for him.” + +“You would be a great scamp if you did not.” + +The surgeon hardly left the wounded man himself. He visited him four +or five times a day, once at least every night, and almost every day +remained for hours sitting by his bedside, examining the patient, and +experiencing, according to the symptoms, the most violent changes from +hope to fear, and back again. It was thus he learned a part, at least, +of Daniel’s history,--that he was to marry a daughter of Count Ville- +Handry, who himself had married an adventuress; and that they had +separated him from his betrothed by a forged letter. The doctor’s +conjectures were thus confirmed: such cowardly forgers would not +hesitate to hire an assassin. + +But the worthy surgeon was too deeply impressed with the dignity of his +profession to divulge secrets which he had heard by the bedside of a +patient. And when the magistrate, devoured by impatience, came to him +every three or four days, he always answered,-- + +“I have nothing new to tell you. It will take weeks yet before you +can examine my patient. I am sorry for it, for the sake of Evariste +Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, who must be tired of prison; but he must +wait.” + +In the meantime, Daniel’s long delirium had been succeeded by a period +of stupor. Order seemed gradually to return to his mind. He recognized +the persons around him, and even stammered a few sensible words. But he +was so excessively weak, that he remained nearly all the time plunged in +a kind of torpor which looked very much like death itself. When he was +aroused for a time, he always asked in an almost inaudible voice,-- + +“Are there no letters for me from France?” + +Invariably, Lefloch replied, according to orders received from the +doctor,-- + +“None, lieutenant.” + +But he told a falsehood. Since Daniel was confined to his bed, three +vessels had arrived from France, two French and one English; and among +the despatches there were eight or ten letters for Lieut. Champcey. But +the old surgeon said to himself, not without good reason,-- + +“Certainly it is almost a case of conscience to leave this unfortunate +man in such uncertainty: but this uncertainty is free from danger, at +least; while any excitement would kill him as surely and as promptly as +I could blow out a candle.” + +A fortnight passed; and Daniel recovered some little strength; at last +he entered upon a kind of convalescence--if a poor man who could not +turn over in bed unaided can be called a convalescent. But, with his +returned consciousness, his sufferings also reappeared; and, as he +gradually ascertained how long he had been confined, his anxiety assumed +an alarming character. + +“There must be letters for me,” he said to his man; “you keep them from +me. I must have them.” + +The doctor at last came to the conclusion that this excessive agitation +was likely to become as dangerous as the excitement he dreaded so much; +so he said one day,-- + +“Let us run the risk.” + +It was a burning hot afternoon, and Daniel had now been an invalid for +seven weeks. Lefloch raised him on his pillows, stowed him away, as he +called it; and the surgeon handed him his letters. + +Daniel uttered a cry of delight. + +At the first glance he had recognized on three of the envelopes +Henrietta’s handwriting. He kissed them, and said,-- + +“At last she writes!” + +The shock was so violent, that the doctor was almost frightened. + +“Be calm, my dear friend,” he said. “Be calm! Be a man, forsooth!” + +But Daniel only smiled, and replied,-- + +“Never mind me, doctor; you know joy is never dangerous; and nothing but +joy can come to me from her who writes to me. However, just see how calm +I am!” + +So calm, that he did not even take the time to see which was the oldest +of his letters. + +He opened one of them at haphazard, and read:-- + + +“Daniel, my dear Daniel, my only friend in this world, and my sole hope, +how could you intrust me to such an infamous person? How could you hand +over your poor Henrietta to such a wretch? This Maxime de Brevan, this +scoundrel, whom you considered your friend, if you knew”-- + + +This was the long letter written by Henrietta the day after M. de Brevan +had declared to her that he loved her, and that sooner or later, whether +she chose or not, she should be his, giving her the choice between the +horrors of starvation and the disgrace of becoming his wife. + +As Daniel went on reading, a deadly pallor was spreading over his face, +pale as it was already; his eyes grew unnaturally large; and big drops +of perspiration trickled down his temples. A nervous trembling seized +him, so violent, that it made his teeth rattle; sobs rose from his +chest; and a pinkish foam appeared on his discolored lips. At last he +reached the concluding lines,-- + + +“Now,” the young girl wrote, “since, probably, none of my letters have +reached you, they must have been intercepted. This one will reach you; +for I am going to carry it to the post-office myself. For God’s +sake, Daniel, return! Come back quick, if you wish to save, not your +Henrietta’s honor, for I shall know how to die, but your Henrietta’s +life!” + + +Then the surgeon and the sailor witnessed a frightful sight. + +This man, who but just now had not been able to raise himself on his +pillows; this unfortunate sufferer, who looked more like a skeleton +than a human being; this wounded man, who had scarcely his breath left +him,--threw back his blankets, and rushed to the middle of the room, +crying, with a terrible voice,-- + +“My clothes, Lefloch, my clothes!” + +The doctor had hastened forward to support him; but he pushed him aside +with one arm, continuing,-- + +“By the holy name of God, Lefloch, make haste! Run to the harbor, +wretch! there must be a steamer there. I buy it. Let it get up steam, +instantly. In an hour I must be on my way.” + +But this great effort had exhausted him. He tottered; his eyes dosed; +and he fainted away in the arms of his sailor, stammering,-- + +“That letter, doctor, that letter; read it, and you will see I must go.” + +Raising his lieutenant, and holding him like a child in his arms, +Lefloch carried him back to his bed; but, for more than ten minutes, the +doctor and the faithful sailor were unable to tell whether they had not +a corpse before their eyes, and were wasting all their attentions. + +No! It was Lefloch who first noticed a slight tremor. + +“He moves!” he cried out. “Look, commandant, he moves! He is alive! +We’ll pull him through yet.” + +They succeeded, in fact, to rekindle this life which had appeared so +nearly extinct; but they did _not_ bring back that able intellect. The +cold and indifferent look with which Daniel stared at them, when he at +last opened his eyes once more, told them that the tottering reason of +the poor man had not been strong enough to resist this new shock. And +still he must have retained some glimpses of the past; for his +efforts to collect his thoughts were unmistakable. He passed his hands +mechanically over his forehead, as if trying to remove the mist +which enshrouded his mind. Then a convulsion shook him; and his lips +overflowed with incoherent words, in which the recollection of the +fearful reality, and the extravagant conceptions of delirium, were +strangely mixed. + +“I foresaw it,” said the chief surgeon. “I foresaw it but too fully.” + +He had by this time exhausted all the resources of his skill and long +experience; he had followed all the suggestions nature vouchsafed; and +he could do nothing more now, but wait. Picking up the fatal letter, he +went into the embrasure of one of the windows to read it. Daniel had +in his wanderings said enough to enable the doctor to understand the +piercing cry of distress contained in the poor girl’s letter; and +Lefloch, who watched him, saw a big tear running down his cheek, and in +the next moment a flood of crimson overspread his face. + +“This is enough to madden a man!” he growled. “Poor Champcey!” + +And like a man who no longer possesses himself, who must move somehow, +he stuffed the letter in his pocket, and went out, swearing till the +plaster seemed to fall from the ceiling. + +Precisely at the same hour, the magistrate, who had been notified of the +trial, came to ask for news. Seeing the old surgeon cross the hospital +yard, he ran up and asked, as soon as he was within hearing,-- + +“Well?” + +The doctor went a few steps farther, and then replied in a tone of +despair,-- + +“Lieut. Champcey is lost!” + +“Great God! What do you mean?” + +“What I think. Daniel has a violent brain-fever, or rather congestion of +the brain. Weakened, exhausted, extenuated as he is, how can he endure +it? He cannot; that is evident. It would take another miracle to +save him now; and you may rest assured it won’t be done. In less +than twenty-four hours he will be a dead man, and his assassins will +triumph.” + +“Oh!” + +The old surgeon’s eyes glared with rage; and a sardonic smile curled his +lips as he continued,-- + +“And who could keep those rascals from triumphing? If Daniel dies, you +will be bound to release that scamp, the wretched murderer whom you keep +imprisoned,--that man Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet; for there will be no +evidence. Or, if you send him before a court, he will be declared guilty +of involuntary homicide. And yet you know, as well as I do, he has +wantonly fired at one of the noblest creatures I have ever known. And, +when he has served his term, he will receive the price of Champcey’s +life, and he will spend it in orgies; and the others, the true +criminals, who have hired him, will go about the world with lofty pride, +rich, honored, and haughty.” + +“Doctor!” + +But the old original was not to be stopped. He went on,-- + +“Ah, let me alone! Your human justice,--do you want me to tell you what +I think of it? I am ashamed of it! When you send every year three or +four stupid murderers to the scaffold, and some dozens of miserable +thieves to the penitentiary, you fold your black gowns around you, and +proudly proclaim that all is well, and that society, thus protected, may +sleep soundly. Well, do you know what is the real state of things? You +only catch the stupid, the fools. The others, the strong, escape between +the meshes of your laws, and, relying on their cleverness and your want +of power, they enjoy the fruit of their crimes in all the pride of their +impunity, until”-- + +He hesitated, and added, unlike his usual protestations of atheism,-- + +“Until the day of divine judgment.” + +Far from appearing hurt by such an outburst of indignation, the +magistrate, after having listened with impassive face, said, as soon as +the doctor stopped for want of breath,-- + +“You must have discovered something new.” + +“Most assuredly. I think I hold at last the thread of the fearful plot +which is killing my poor Daniel. Ah, if he would but live! But he cannot +live.” + +“Well, well, console yourself, doctor. You said human justice has its +limits, and hosts of criminals escape its vengeance; but in this case, +whether Lieut. Champcey live or die, justice shall be done, I promise +you!” + +He spoke in a tone of such absolute certainty, that the old surgeon was +struck by it. He exclaimed,-- + +“Has the murderer confessed the crime?” + +The magistrate shook his head. + +“No,” he replied; “nor have I seen him again since the first +examination. But I have not been asleep. I have been searching; and I +think I have sufficient evidence now to bring out the truth. And if you, +on your side, have any positive information”-- + +“Yes, I have; and I think I am justified now in communicating it to you. +I have, besides, a letter”-- + +He was pulling the letter out of his pocket; but the magistrate stopped +him, saying,-- + +“We cannot talk here in the middle of the court, where everybody can +watch us from the windows. The court-room is quite near: suppose we go +there, doctor.” + +For all answer the surgeon put on his cap firmly, took his friend’s arm, +and the next moment the soldier on duty at the gate of the hospital +saw them go out, engaged in a most animated conversation. When they had +reached the magistrate’s room, he shut the door carefully; and, after +having invited the surgeon to take a seat, he said:-- + +“I shall ask you for your information in a moment. First listen to what +I have to say. I know now who Evariste Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, +really is; and I know the principal events of his life. Ah! it has +cost me time and labor enough; but human justice is patient, doctor. +Considering that this man had sailed on board ‘The Conquest’ for more +than four months, in company with one hundred and fifty emigrants, I +thought it would be unlikely that he should not have tried to break +the monotony of such a voyage by long talks with friends. He is a good +speaker, a Parisian, a former soldier, and a great traveller. He was, +no doubt, always sure of an audience. I sent, therefore, one by one, for +all the former passengers on board ‘The Conquest,’ whom I could find, +a hundred, perhaps; and I examined them. I soon found out that my +presumption was not unfounded. + +“Almost every one of them had found out some detail of Bagnolet’s +life, some more, some less, according to the degree of honesty or +demoralization which Bagnolet thought he discovered in them. I collected +all the depositions of these witnesses; I completed and compared them, +one by the other; and thus, by means of the confessions of the accused, +certain allusions and confidences of his made to others, and his +indiscretions when he was drunk, I was enabled to make up his biography +with a precision which is not likely to be doubted.” + +Without seeming to notice the doctor’s astonishment, he opened a large +case on his table; and, drawing from it a huge bundle of papers, he held +it up in the air, saying,-- + +“Here are the verbal depositions of my hundred and odd witnesses.” + +Then, pointing at four or five sheets of paper, which were covered with +very fine and close writing, he added,-- + +“And here are my extracts. Now, doctor, listen,--” + +And at once he commenced reading this biography of his “accused,” making +occasional remarks, and explaining what he had written. + +“_Evariste Crochard_, surnamed _Bagnolet_, was born at Bagnolet in 1829, +and is, consequently, older than he says, although he looks younger. He +was born in February; and this month is determined by the deposition +of a witness, to whom the accused offered, during the voyage, a bottle, +with the words, ‘To-day is my birthday.’ + +“From all the accounts of the accused, it appears that his parents +were evidently very honest people. His father was foreman in a copper +foundry; and his mother a seamstress. They may be still living; but for +many years they have not seen their son. + +“The accused was sent to school; and, if you believe him, he learned +quickly, and showed remarkable talents. But from his twelfth year he +joined several bad companions of his age, and frequently abandoned his +home for weeks, roaming about Paris. How did he support himself while he +was thus vagabondizing? + +“He has never given a satisfactory explanation. But he has made such +precise statements about the manner in which youthful thieves maintain +themselves in the capital, that many witnesses suspect him of having +helped them in robbing open stalls in the streets. + +“The positive result of these investigations is, that his father, +distressed by his misconduct, and despairing of ever seeing him mend his +ways, had him sent to a house of correction when he was fourteen years +old. + +“Released at the end of eighteen months, he says he was bound out as +an apprentice, and soon learned his business well enough to support +himself. This last allegation, however, cannot be true; for four +witnesses, of whom one at least is of the same profession as Crochard, +declare that they have seen him at work, and that, if he ever was a +skilled mechanic, he is so no longer. Besides, he cannot have been long +at work; for he had been a year in prison again, when the revolution +of 1848 began. This fact he has himself stated to more than twenty-five +persons. But he has explained his imprisonment very differently; and +almost every witness has received a new version. One was told that he +had been sentenced for having stabbed one of his companions while drunk; +another, that it was for a row in a drinking-saloon; and a third, that +he was innocently involved with others in an attempt to rob a foreigner. + +“The prosecution is, therefore, entitled to conclude fairly that +Crochard was sentenced simply as a thief. + +“Set free soon after the revolution, he did not resume his profession, +but secured a place as machinist in a theatre on the boulevards. At the +end of three months he was turned off, because of ‘improper conduct with +women,’ according to one; or, if we believe another statement, because +he was accused of a robbery committed in one of the boxes. + +“Unable to procure work, he engaged himself as groom in a wandering +circus, and thus travelled through the provinces. But at Marseilles, +he is wounded in a fight, and has to go to a hospital, where he remains +three months. + +“After his return to Paris, he associated himself with a rope-dancer, +but was soon called upon to enter the army. He escaped conscription by +good luck. But the next year we find him negotiating with a dealer in +substitutes; and he confesses having sold himself purely from a mad +desire to possess fifteen hundred francs at once, and to be able to +spend them in debauch. Having successfully concealed his antecedents, +he is next admitted as substitute in the B Regiment of the line; but, +before a year had elapsed, his insubordination has caused him to be sent +to Africa as a punishment. + +“He remained there sixteen months, and conducted himself well enough to +be incorporated in the First Regiment of Marines, one battalion of which +was to be sent to Senegambia. He had, however, by no means given up +his bad ways; for he was very soon after condemned to ten years’ penal +servitude for having broken into a house by night as a robber.” + +The chief surgeon, who had for some time given unmistakable signs of +impatience, now rose all of a sudden, and said,-- + +“Pardon me, if I interrupt you, sir; but can you rely upon the veracity +of your witnesses?” + +“Why should I doubt them?” + +“Because it seems to me very improbable that a cunning fellow, such as +this Crochard seems to be, should have denounced himself.” + +“But he has not denounced himself.” + +“Ah?” + +“He has often mentioned this condemnation; but he has always attributed +it to acts of violence against a superior; On that point he has never +varied in his statements.” + +“Then how on earth did you learn”-- + +“The truth? Oh, very simply. _I_ inquired at Saigon; and I succeeded +in finding a sergeant in the Second Regiment of Marines, who was in +the First Regiment at the same time with Crochard. He gave me all these +details. And there is no mistake about the identity; for, as soon as +I said ‘Crochard’ the sergeant exclaimed, ‘Oh, yes! Crochard, surnamed +Bagnolet.’” + +And, as the doctor bowed without saying a word, the magistrate said,-- + +“I resume the account. The statements of the accused since his arrest +are too insignificant to be here reported. There is only one peculiarity +of importance for the prosecution, which may possibly serve to enable us +to trace the instigators of this crime. On three occasions, and in the +presence of, at least, three witnesses each time, Crochard has used, in +almost the same terms, these words,-- + +“‘No one would believe the strange acquaintances one makes in prisons. +You meet there young men of family, who have done a foolish thing, +and lots of people, who, wishing to make a fortune all at once, had no +chance. When they come out from there, many of these fellows get into +very good positions; and then, if you meet them, they don’t know you. I +have known some people there, who now ride in their carriages.’” + +The doctor had become silent. + +“Oh!” he said half aloud, “might not some of these people whom the +assassin has known in prison have put arms in his hand?” + +“That is the very question I asked myself.” + +“Because, you see, some of Daniel’s enemies are fearful people; and if +you knew what is in this letter here in my hand, which, no doubt, will +be the cause of that poor boy’s death”-- + +“Allow me to finish, doctor,” said the man of law. And then, more +rapidly, he went on,-- + +“Here follows a blank. How the accused lived in Paris, to which he +had returned after his release, is not known. Did he resort to mean +cheating, or to improper enterprises, in order to satisfy his passions? +The prosecution is reduced to conjectures, since Crochard has refused to +give details, and only makes very general statements as to these years. + +“This fact only is established, that every thing he took with him when +he left Paris was new,--his tools, the linen in his valise, the clothes +he wore, from the cap on his head to his shoes. Why were they all new?” + +As the magistrate had now reached the last line on the first sheet, the +surgeon rose, bowed low, and said,-- + +“Upon my word, sir, I surrender; and I do begin to hope that Lieut. +Champcey may still be avenged.” + +A smile of pleased pride appeared for a moment on the lips of the +lawyer; but assuming his mask of impassiveness instantly again, as if he +had been ashamed of his weakness, he said with delicate irony,-- + +“I really think human justice may this time reach the guilty. But wait +before you congratulate me.” + +The old surgeon was too candid to make even an attempt at concealing his +astonishment. + +“What!” he said, “you have more evidence still?” + +The magistrate gravely shook his head, and said,-- + +“The biography which I have just read establishes nothing. We do not +succeed by probabilities and presumptions; however strong they are in +convincing a jury. They want and require proof, positive proof, before +they condemn. Well, such proof I have.” + +“Oh!” + +From the same box from which he had taken the papers concerning Crochard +he now drew a letter, which he shook in the air with a threatening +gesture. “Here is something,” he said, “which was sent to the state +attorney twelve days after the last attempt had been made on M. +Champcey’s life. Listen!” And he read thus,-- + + +“Sir,--A sailor, who has come over to Boen-Hoa, where I live with my +wife, has told us that a certain Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, has shot, +and perhaps mortally wounded, Lieut. Champcey of the ship ‘Conquest.’ + +“In connection with this misfortune, my wife thinks, and I also consider +it a matter of conscience, that we should make known to you a very +serious matter. + +“One day I happened to be on a yardarm, side by side with Crochard, +helping the sailors to furl a sail, when I saw him drop a huge block, +which fell upon Lieut. Champcey, and knocked him down. + +“No one else had noticed it; and Crochard instantly pulled up the block +again. I was just considering whether I ought to report him, when he +fell at my feet, and implored me to keep it secret; for he had been very +unfortunate in life, and if I spoke he would be ruined. + +“Thinking that he had been simply awkward, I allowed myself to be moved, +and swore to Crochard that the matter should remain between us. But +what has happened since proves very clearly, as my wife says, that I was +wrong to keep silence; and I am ready now to tell all, whatever may be +the consequences. + +“Still, sir, I beg you will protect me, in case Crochard should think of +avenging himself on me or on my family,--a thing which might very easily +happen, as he is a very bad man, capable of any thing. + +“As I cannot write, my wife sends you this letter. And we are, with the +most profound respect, &c.” + + +The doctor rubbed his hands violently. + +“And you have seen this blacksmith?” he asked. + +“Certainly! He has been here, he and his wife. Ah! if the man had been +left to his own counsels, he would have kept it all secret, so terribly +is he afraid of this Crochard; but, fortunately, his wife had more +courage.” + +“Decidedly,” growled the surgeon. “The women are, after all, the better +part of creation.” + +The magistrate carefully replaced the letter in the box, and then went +on in his usual calm voice,-- + +“Thus the first attempt at murder is duly and fully proven. As for the +second,--the one made on the river,--we are not quite so far advanced. +Still I have hopes. I have found out, for instance, that Crochard is a +first-rate swimmer. Only about three months ago he made a bet with one +of the waiters at the hotel where he is engaged, that he would swim +across the Dong-Nai twice, at a place where the current is strongest; +and he did it.” + +“But that is evidence; is it not?” + +“No; it is only a probability in favor of the prosecution. But I +have another string to my bow. The register on board ship proves that +Crochard went on shore the very evening after the arrival of the vessel. +Where, and with whom, did he spend the evening? Not one of my hundred +and odd witnesses has seen him that night. And that is not all. No one +has noticed, the next day, that his clothes were wet. Therefore he must +have changed his clothes; and, in order to do that, he must have bought +some; for he had taken nothing with him out of the ship but what he had +on. Where did he buy these clothes? I mean to find that out as soon as +I shall no longer be forced to carry on the investigation secretly, as I +have done so far. For I never forget one thing, that the real criminals +are in France, and that they will surely escape us, if they hear that +their wretched accomplice here is in trouble.” + +Once more the surgeon drew Henrietta’s letter from his pocket, and +handed it to the lawyer, saying,-- + +“I know who they are, the really guilty ones. I know Daniel’s +enemies,--Sarah Brandon, Maxime de Brevan, and the others.” + +But the magistrate waved back the letter, and replied,-- + +“It is not enough for us to know them, doctor; we want evidence against +them,--clear, positive, irrefutable evidence. This evidence we will get +from Crochard. Oh, I know the ways of these rascals! As soon as they see +they are overwhelmed by the evidence against them, and feel they are +in real danger, they hasten to denounce their accomplices, and to aid +justice, with all their perversity to discover them. The accused will +do the same. When I shall have established the fact that he was hired +to murder M. Champcey, he will tell me by whom he was hired; and he will +have to confess that he was thus hired, when I show him how much of the +money he received for the purpose is now left.” + +The old surgeon once more jumped up from his chair. + +“What!” he said, “you have found Crochard’s treasure?” + +“No,” replied the lawyer, “not yet; but”-- + +He could hardly keep from smiling grimly; but he added at once,-- + +“But I know where it is, I think. Ah! I can safely say it was not on the +first day exactly that I saw where the truth probably was hid. I have +had a good deal of perplexity and trouble. Morally sure as I was, after +the first examination of the accused, that he had a relatively large sum +hidden somewhere, I first gave all my attention to his chamber. Assisted +by a clever police-agent, I examined that room for a whole fortnight, +till I was furious. The furniture was taken to pieces, and examined, +the lining taken out of the chairs, and even the paper stripped from the +walls. All in vain. I was in despair, when a thought struck me,--one of +those simple thoughts which make you wonder why it did not occur to you +at once. I said to myself, ‘I have found it!’ And, anxious to ascertain +if I was right, I immediately sent for the man with whom Crochard had +made the bet about swimming across the Dong-Nai. He came; and--But I +prefer reading you his deposition.” + +He took from the large bundle of papers a single sheet, and, assuming an +air of great modesty, read the affidavit. + + +“_Magistrate_.--At what point of the river did Crochard swim across? + +“_Witness_.--A little below the town. + +“_M_.--Where did he undress? + +“_W_.--At the place where he went into the water, just opposite the +tile-factory of M. Wang-Tai. + +“_M_.--What did he do with his clothes? + +“_W_. (very much surprised).--Nothing. + +“_M_.--Excuse me; he must have done something. Try to recollect. + +“_W_. (striking his forehead).--Why, yes! I remember now. When Bagnolet +had undressed, I saw he looked annoyed, as if he disliked going into the +water. But no! that was not it. He was afraid about his clothes; and he +did not rest satisfied till I had told him I would keep watch over them. +Now, his clothes consisted of a mean pair of trousers and a miserable +blouse. As they were in my way, I put them down on the ground, at the +foot of a tree. He had in the meantime done his work, and came back; +but, instead of listening to my compliments, he cried furiously, +‘My clothes!’--‘Well,’ I said, ‘they are not lost. There they are.’ +Thereupon he pushed me back fiercely, without saying a word, and ran +like a madman to pick up his clothes.” + + +The chief surgeon was electrified; he rose, and said,-- + +“I understand; yes, I understand.” + + + + +XXV. + +Thus proceeding from one point to another, and by the unaided power of +his sagacity, coupled with indefatigable activity, the magistrate +had succeeded in establishing Crochard’s guilt, and the existence of +accomplices who had instigated the crime. No one could doubt that he was +proud of it, and that his self-esteem had increased, although he +tried hard to preserve his stiff and impassive appearance. He had even +affected a certain dislike to the idea of reading Henrietta’s letter, +until he should have proved that he could afford to do without such +assistance. + +But, now that he had proved this so amply, he very quickly asked for the +letter, and read it. Like the chief surgeon, he, also, was struck and +amazed by the wickedness of M. de Brevan. + +“But here is exactly what we want,” he exclaimed,--“an irrefragable +proof of complicity. He would never have dared to abuse Miss Ville- +Handry’s confidence in so infamous a manner, if he had not been +persuaded, in fact been quite sure, that Lieut. Champcey would never +return to France.” + +Then, after a few minutes’ reflection, he added,-- + +“And yet I feel that there is something underneath still, which we do +not see. Why had they determined upon M. Champcey’s death even before +he sailed? What direct and pressing interest could M. de Brevan have in +wishing him dead at that time? Something must have happened between the +two which we do not know.” + +“What?” + +“Ah! that is what I cannot conceive. But remember what I say, doctor: +the future reserves some fearful mysteries yet to be revealed to us +hereafter.” + +The two men had been so entirely preoccupied with their thoughts, that +they were unconscious of the flight of time; and they were not a little +astonished, therefore, when they now noticed that the day was gone, and +night was approaching. The lawyer rose, and asked, returning Henrietta’s +letter to the doctor,-- + +“Is this the only one M. Champcey has received?” + +“No; but it is the only one he has opened.” + +“Would you object to handing me the others?” + +The excellent doctor hesitated. + +“I will hand them to you,” he said at last, “if you will assure me that +the interests of justice require it. But why not wait”-- + +He did not dare say, “Why not wait for M. Champcey’s death?” but the +lawyer understood him. + +“I will wait,” he said. + +While thus talking, they had reached the door. They shook hands; and the +chief surgeon, his heart fall of darkest presentiments, slowly made his +way to the hospital. + +A great surprise awaited him there. Daniel, whom he had left in a +desperate condition, almost dying,--Daniel slept profoundly, sweetly. +His pale face had recovered its usual expression; and his respiration +was free and regular. + +“It is almost indescribable,” said the old doctor, whose experience was +utterly at fault. “I am an ass; and our science is a bubble.” + +Turning to Lefloch, who had respectfully risen at his entrance, he +asked,-- + +“Since when has your master been sleeping in this way?” + +“For an hour, commandant.” + +“How did he fall asleep?” + +“Quite naturally, commandant. After you left, the lieutenant was for +some time pretty wild yet; but soon he quieted down, and finally he +asked for something to drink. I gave him a cup of your tea; he took it, +and then asked me to help him turn over towards the wall. I did so, and +I saw him remain so, his arm bent, and his head in his hand, like a man +who is thinking profoundly. But about a quarter of an hour later, all +of a sudden, I thought I heard him gasp. I came up softly on tiptoe, and +looked. I was mistaken; the lieutenant was not gasping, he was crying +like a baby; and what I had heard were sobs. Ah, commandant! I felt as +if somebody had kicked me in the stomach. Because, you see, I know +him; and I know, that, before a man such as he is goes to crying like a +little child, he must have suffered more than death itself. Holy God! +If I knew where I could catch them, these rascals who give him all this +trouble”-- + +His fists rose instinctively, and most undoubtedly something bright +started from his eyes which looked prodigiously like a tear rolling +slowly down one of the deep furrows in his cheek. + +“Now,” he continued in a half-stifled voice, “I saw why the lieutenant +had wished to turn his face to the wall, and I went back without making +a noise. A moment after that, he began talking aloud. But he was right +in his senses now, I tell you.” + +“What did he say?” + +“Ah! he said something like, ‘Henrietta, Henrietta!’ Always that good +friend of his, for whom he was forever calling when he had the fever. +And then he said, ‘I am killing her, I! I am the cause of her death. +Fool, stupid, idiot that I am! He has sworn to kill me and Henrietta, +the wretch! He swore it no doubt, the very day on which I, fool as I +was, confided Henrietta and my whole fortune to him.’” + +“Did he say that?” + +“The very words, commandant, but better, a great deal better.” + +The old surgeon seemed to be amazed. + +“That cunning lawyer had judged rightly,” he said. “He suspected there +was something else; and here it is.” + +“You say, commandant?” asked the good sailor. + +“Nothing of interest to you. Go on.” + +“Well, after that--but there is nothing more to tell, except that I +heard nothing more. The lieutenant remained in the same position till I +came to light the lamp; then he ordered me to make him tack ship, and +to let down the screen over the lamp. I did so. He gave out two or three +big sighs, and then goodnight, and nothing more. He was asleep as you +see him now.” + +“And how did his eyes look when he fell asleep?” + +“Quite calm and bright.” + +The doctor looked like a man to whom something has happened which is +utterly inexplicable to him, and said in a low voice,-- + +“He will pull through, I am sure now. I said there could not be another +miracle; and here it is!” + +Then turning to Lefloch, he asked,-- + +“You know where I am staying?” + +“Yes, commandant.” + +“If your officer wakes up in the night, you will send for me at once.” + +“Yes, commandant.” + +But Daniel did not wake up; and he had hardly opened his eyes on the +next morning, about eight o’clock, when the chief surgeon entered his +room. At the first glance at his patient, he exclaimed,-- + +“I am sure our imprudence yesterday will have no bad effects!” + +Daniel said nothing; but, after the old surgeon had carefully examined +him, he began,-- + +“Now, doctor, one question, a single one: in how many days will I be +able to get up and take ship?” + +“Ah! my dear lieutenant, there is time enough to talk about that.” + +“No, doctor, no! I must have an answer. Fix a time, and I shall have the +fortitude to wait; but uncertainty will kill me. Yes, I shall manage to +wait, although I suffer like”-- + +The surgeon was evidently deeply touched. + +“I know what you suffer, my poor Champcey,” he said; “I read that letter +which came much nearer killing you than Crochard’s ball. I think in a +month you will be able to sail.” + +“A month!” said Daniel in a tone as if he had said an age. And after a +pause he added,-- + +“That is not all, doctor: I want to ask you for the letters which I +could not read yesterday.” + +“What? You would--But that would be too great an imprudence.” + +“No, doctor, don’t trouble yourself. The blow has fallen. If I did not +lose my mind yesterday, that shows that my reason can stand the most +terrible trial. I have, God be thanked, all my energy. I know I must +live, if I want to save Henrietta,--to avenge her, if I should come too +late. That thought, you may rest assured, will keep me alive.” + +The surgeon hesitated no longer: the next moment Daniel opened the other +two letters from Henrietta. One, very long, was only a repetition of the +first he had read. The other consisted only of a few lines:-- + + +“M. de Brevan has just left me. When the man told me mockingly that I +need not count upon your return, and cast an atrocious look at me, +I understood. Daniel, that man wants your life; and he has hired +assassins. For my sake, if not for your own, I beseech you be careful. +Take care, be watchful; think that you are the only friend, the sole +hope here below, of your Henrietta.” + + +Now it was truly seen that Daniel had not presumed too much on his +strength and his courage. Not a muscle in his face changed; his eye +remained straight and clear; and he said in an accent of coldest, +bitterest irony,-- + +“Look at this, doctor. Here is the explanation of the strange ill luck +that has pursued me ever since I left France.” + +At a glance the doctor read Henrietta’s warning, which came, alas! so +much too late. + +“You ought to remember this, also, that M. de Brevan could not foresee +that the assassin he had hired would be caught.” + +This was an unexpected revelation; and Daniel was all attention. + +“What?” he said. “The man who fired at me has been arrested?” + +Lefloch was unable to restrain himself at this juncture, and replied,-- + +“I should say so, lieutenant, and by my hand, before his gun had cooled +off.” + +The doctor did not wait for the questions which he read in the eyes of +his patient. He said at once,-- + +“It is as Lefloch says, my dear lieutenant; and, if you have not been +told anything about it, it was because the slightest excitement would +become fatal. Yesterday’s experience has only proved that too clearly. +Yes, the assassin is in jail.” + +“And his account is made up,” growled the sailor. + +But Daniel shrugged his shoulders, and said,-- + +“I do not want him punished, any more than the ball which hit me. That +wretched creature is a mere tool. But, doctor, you know who are the real +guilty ones.” + +“And justice shall be done, I swear!” broke in the old surgeon, who +looked upon the cause of his patient with as much interest as if it were +his own. “Our lucky star has sent us a lawyer who is no trifler, and +who, if I am not very much mistaken, would like very much to leave +Saigon with a loud blast of trumpets.” + +He remained buried in thought for a while, watching his patient out of +the corner of his eye, and then said suddenly,-- + +“Now I think of it, why could you not see the lawyer? He is all anxiety +to examine you. Consider, lieutenant, do you feel strong enough to see +him?” + +“Let him come,” cried Daniel, “let him come! Pray, doctor, go for him at +once!” + +“I shall do my best, my dear Champcey. I will go at once, and leave you +to finish your correspondence.” + +He left the room with these words; and Daniel turned to the letters, +which were still lying on his bed. There were seven of them,--four from +the Countess Sarah, and three from Maxime. But what could they tell +him now? What did he care for the falsehoods and the calumnies they +contained? He ran over them, however. + +Faithful to her system, Sarah wrote volumes; and from line to line, in +some way or other, her real or feigned love for Daniel broke forth more +freely, and no longer was veiled and hidden under timid reserve and +long-winded paraphrases. She gave herself up, whether her prudence had +forsaken her, or whether she felt quite sure that her letters could +never reach Count Ville-Handry. It sounded like an intense, irresistible +passion, escaping from the control of the owner, and breaking forth +terribly, like a long smouldering fire. Of Henrietta she said but +little,--enough, however, to terrify Daniel, if he had not known the +truth. + +“That unfortunate, wayward girl,” she wrote, “has just caused her aged +father such cruel and unexpected grief, that he was on the brink of +the grave. Weary of the control which her indiscretions rendered +indispensable, she has fled, we know not with whom; and all our efforts +to find her have so far been unsuccessful.” + +On the other hand, M. de Brevan wrote, “Deaf to my counsel and prayers +even, Miss Ville-Handry has carried out the project of leaving her +paternal home. Suspected of having favored her escape, I have been +called out by Sir Thorn, and had to fight a duel with him. A paper which +I enclose will give you the details of our meeting, and tell you that I +was lucky enough to wound that gentleman of little honor, but of great +skill with the pistol. + +“Alas! my poor, excellent Daniel, why should I be compelled by the +duties of friendship to confess to you that it was not for the purpose +of remaining faithful to you, that Miss Henrietta was so anxious to be +free? Do not desire to return, my poor friend! You would suffer too much +in finding her whom you have loved so dearly unworthy of an honest +man, unworthy of you. Believe me, I did all I could to prevent her +irregularities, which now have become public. I only drew her hatred +upon me, and I should not be surprised if she did all she could to make +us all cut our throats.” + +This impudence was bold enough to confound anybody’s mind, and to make +one doubt one’s own good sense. Still he found the newspaper, which +had been sent to him with the letter, and in it the account of the duel +between M. de Brevan and M. Thomas Elgin. What did that signify? He once +more read over, more attentively than at first, the letters of Maxime +and the Countess Sarah; and, by comparing them with each other, he +thought he noticed in them some traces of a beginning disagreement. + +“It may be that there is discord among my enemies,” he said to himself, +“and that they do no longer agree, now that, in their view, the moment +approaches when they are to divide the proceeds of their crimes. Or did +they never agree, and am I the victim of a double plot? Or is the whole +merely a comedy for the purpose of deceiving me, and keeping me here, +until the murderer has done his work?” + +He was not allowed to torture his mind long with efforts to seek the +solution of this riddle. The old doctor came back with the lawyer, and +for more than half an hour he had to answer an avalanche of questions. +But the investigation had been carried on with such rare sagacity, +that Daniel could furnish the prosecution only a single new fact,--the +surrender of his entire fortune into the hands of M. de Brevan. + +And even this fact must needs, on account of its extreme improbability, +remain untold in an investigation which was based upon logic alone. +Daniel very naturally, somewhat ashamed of his imprudence, tried to +excuse himself; and, when he had concluded his explanations, the lawyer +said,-- + +“Now, one more question: would you recognize the man who attempted to +drown you in the Dong-Nai in a boat which he had offered to you, and +which he upset evidently on purpose?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Ah! that is a pity. That man was Crochard, I am sure; but he will deny +it; and the prosecution will have nothing but probabilities to oppose to +his denial, unless I can find the place where he changed his clothes.” + +“Excuse me, there is a way to ascertain his identity.” + +“How?” + +“The voice of the wretch is so deeply engraven on my mind, that even +at this moment, while I am speaking to you, I think I can hear it in my +ear; and I would recognize it among a thousand.” + +The lawyer made no reply, weighing, no doubt, in his mind the chances of +a confrontation. Then he made up his mind, and said,-- + +“It is worth trying.” + +And handing his clerk, who had been a silent witness of this scene, an +order to have the accused brought to the hospital, he said,-- + +“Take this to the jail, and let them make haste.” + +It was a month now since Crochard had been arrested; and his +imprisonment, so far from discouraging him, had raised his spirits. At +first, his arrest and the examination had frightened him; but, as the +days went by, he recovered his insolence. + +“They are evidently looking for evidence,” he said; “but, as they cannot +find any, they will have to let me go.” + +He looked, therefore, as self-assured as ever when he came into Daniel’s +room, and exclaimed, while still in the door, with an air of intolerable +arrogance,-- + +“Well? I ask for justice; I am tired of jail. If I am guilty, let them +cut my throat; if I am innocent”-- + +But Daniel did not let him finish. + +“That is the man!” he exclaimed; “I am ready to swear to it, that is the +man!” + +Great as was the impudence of Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, he was +astonished, and looked with rapid, restless eyes at the chief surgeon, +at the magistrate, and last at Lefloch, who stood immovable at the foot +of the bed of his lieutenant. He had too much experience of legal forms +not to know that he had given way to absurd illusions,--and that his +position was far more dangerous than he had imagined. But what was their +purpose? what had they found out? and what did they know positively? +The effort he made to guess all this gave to his face an atrocious +expression. + +“Did you hear that, Crochard?” asked the lawyer. + +But the accused had recovered his self-control by a great effort; and he +replied,-- + +“I am not deaf.” And there was in his voice the unmistakable accent +of the former vagabond of Paris. “I hear perfectly well; only I don’t +understand.” + +The magistrate, finding that, where he was seated, he could not very +well observe Crochard, had quietly gotten up, and was now standing near +the mantle-piece, against which he rested. + +“On the contrary,” he said severely, “you understand but too well Lieut. +Champcey says you are the man who tried to drown him in the Dong-Nai. He +recognizes you.” + +“That’s impossible!” exclaimed the accused. “That’s impossible; for”-- + +But the rest of the phrase remained in his throat. A sudden reflection +had shown him the trap in which he had been caught,--a trap quite +familiar to examining lawyers, and terrible by its very simplicity. But +for that reflection, he would have gone on thus,-- + +“That’s impossible; for the night was too dark to distinguish a man’s +features.” + +And that would have been equivalent to a confession; and he would have +had nothing to answer the magistrate, if the latter had asked at once,-- + +“How do you know that the darkness was so great on the banks of the +Dong-Nai? It seems you were there, eh?” + +Quite pallid with fright, the accused simply said,-- + +“The officer must be mistaken.” + +“I think not,” replied the magistrate. + +Turning to Daniel, he asked him,-- + +“Do you persist in your declaration, lieutenant?” + +“More than ever, sir; I declare upon honor that I recognize the +man’s voice. When he offered me a boat, he spoke a kind of almost +unintelligible jargon, a mixture of English and Spanish words; but he +did not think of changing his intonation and his accent.” + +Affecting an assurance which he was far from really feeling, Crochard, +surnamed Bagnolet, shrugged his shoulders carelessly, and said,-- + +“Do I know any English? Do I know any Spanish?” + +“No, very likely not; but like all Frenchmen who live in this colony, +and like all the marines, you no doubt know a certain number of words of +these two languages.” + +To the great surprise of the doctor and of Daniel, the prisoner did not +deny it; it looked as if he felt that he was on dangerous ground. + +“Never mind!” he exclaimed in the most arrogant manner. “It is anyhow +pretty hard to accuse an honest man of a crime, because his voice +resembles the voice of a rascal.” + +The magistrate gently shook his head. He said,-- + +“Do you pretend being an honest man?” + +“What! I pretend? Let them send for my employers.” + +“That is not necessary. I know your antecedents, from the first petty +theft that procured you four months’ imprisonment, to the aggravated +robbery for which you were sent to the penitentiary, when you were in +the army.” + +Profound stupor lengthened all of Crochard’s features; but he was +not the man to give up a game in which his head was at stake, without +fighting for it. + +“Well, there you are mistaken,” he said very coolly. “I have been +condemned to ten years, that is true, when I was a soldier; but it was +for having struck an officer who had punished me unjustly.” + +“You lie. A former soldier of your regiment, who is now in garrison here +in Saigon, will prove it.” + +For the first time the accused seemed to be really troubled. He saw all +of a sudden his past rising before him, which until now he had thought +unknown or forgotten; and he knew full well the weight which antecedents +like his would have in the scales of justice. So he changed his tactics; +and, assuming an abject humility, he said,-- + +“One may have committed a fault, and still be incapable of murdering a +man.” + +“That is not your case.” + +“Oh! how can you say such a thing?--I who would not harm a fly. Unlucky +gun! Must I needs have such a mishap?” + +The magistrate had for some time been looking at the accused with an air +of the most profound disgust. He interrupted him rudely now, and said,-- + +“Look here, my man! Spare us those useless denials. Justice knows +everything it wants to know. That shot was the third attempt you made to +murder a man.” + +Crochard drew back. He looked livid. But he had still the strength to +say in a half-strangled voice,-- + +“That is false!” + +But the magistrate had too great an abundance of evidence to allow the +examination to continue. He said simply,-- + +“Who, then, threw, during the voyage, an enormous block at M. Champcey’s +head? Come, don’t deny it. The emigrant who was near you, who saw you, +and who promised he would not report you at that time, has spoken. Do +you want to see him?” + +Once more Crochard opened his lips to protest his innocence; but he +could not utter a sound. He was crushed, annihilated; he trembled in all +his limbs; and his teeth rattled in his mouth. In less than no time, his +features had sunk in, as it were, till he looked like a man at the foot +of the scaffold. It may be, that, feeling he was irretrievably lost, he +had had a vision of the fatal instrument. + +“Believe me,” continued the lawyer, “do not insist upon the impossible; +you had better tell the truth.” + +For another minute yet, the miserable man hesitated. Then, seeing no +other chance of safety, except the mercy of the judges, he fell heavily +on his knees, and stammered out,-- + +“I am a wretched man.” + +At the same instant a cry of astonishment burst from the doctor, from +Daniel, and the worthy Lefloch. But the man of law was not surprised. He +knew in advance that the first victory would be easily won, and that the +real difficulty would be to induce the prisoner to confess the name of +his principal. Without giving him, therefore time to recover, he said,-- + +“Now, what reasons had you for persecuting M. Champcey in this way?” + +The accused rose again; and, making an effort, he said slowly,-- + +“I hated him. Once during the voyage he had threatened to have me put in +irons.” + +“The man lies!” said Daniel. + +“Do you hear?” asked the lawyer. “So you will not tell the truth? Well, +I will tell it for you. They had hired you to kill Lieut. Champcey, +and you wanted to earn your money. You got a certain sum of money in +advance; and you were to receive a larger sum after his death.” + +“I swear”-- + +“Don’t swear! The sum in your possession, which you cannot account for, +is positive proof of what I say.” + +“Alas! I possess nothing. You may inquire. You may order a search.” + +Under the impassive mask of the lawyer, a certain degree of excitement +could at this moment be easily discerned. The time had come to strike +a decisive blow, and to judge of the value of his system of induction. +Instead, therefore, of replying to the prisoner, he turned to the +gendarmes who were present and said to them,-- + +“Take the prisoner into the next room. Strip him, and examine all his +clothes carefully: see to it that there is nothing hid in the lining.” + +The gendarmes advanced to seize the prisoner, when he suddenly jumped +up, and said in a tone of ill-constrained rage,-- + +“No need for that! I have three one thousand-franc-notes sewn into the +lining of my trousers.” + +This time the pride of success got completely the better of the +imperturbable coldness of the magistrate. He uttered a low cry of +satisfaction, and could not refrain from casting a look of triumph at +Daniel and the doctor, which said clearly,-- + +“Well? What did I tell you?” + +It was for a second only; the next instant his features resumed their +icy immobility; and, turning to the accused, he said in a tone of +command,-- + +“Hand me the notes!” + +Crochard did not stir; but his livid countenance betrayed the fierce +suffering he endured. Certainly, at this moment, he did not play a part. +To take from him his three thousand francs, the price of the meanest and +most execrable crime; the three thousand francs for the sake of which he +had risked the scaffold,--this was like tearing his entrails from him. + +Like an enraged brute who sees that the enemy is all-powerful, he +gathered all his strength, and, with a furious look, glanced around the +room to see if he could escape anywhere, asking himself, perhaps, upon +which of the men he ought to throw himself for the purpose. + +“The notes!” repeated the inexorable lawyer. “Must I order force to be +used?” + +Convinced of the uselessness of resistance, and of the folly of any +attempt at escape, the wretch hung his head. + +“But I cannot undo the seams of my trousers with my nails,” he said. +“Let them give me a knife or a pair of scissors.” + +They were careful not to do so. But, at a sign given by the magistrate, +one of the gendarmes approached, and, drawing a penknife from his +pocket, ripped the seam at the place which the prisoner pointed out. +A genuine convulsion of rage seized the assassin, when a little paper +parcel appeared, folded up, and compressed to the smallest possible +size. By a very curious phenomenon, which is, however, quite frequently +observed in criminals, he was far more concerned about his money than +about his life, which was in such imminent danger. + +“That is my money!” he raged. “No one has a right to take it from me. It +is infamous to ill use a man who has been unfortunate, and to rob him.” + +The magistrate, no doubt quite accustomed to such scenes, did not even +listen to Crochard, but carefully opened the packet. It contained three +notes of a thousand francs each, wrapped up in a sheet of letter-paper, +which was all greasy, and worn out in the folds. The bank-notes had +nothing peculiar; but on the sheet of paper, traces could be made out +of lines of writing; and at least two words were distinctly +legible,--_University_ and _Street_. + +“What paper is this, Crochard?” asked the lawyer. + +“I don’t know. I suppose I picked it up somewhere.” + +“What? Are you going to lie again? What is the use? Here is evidently +the address of some one who lives in University Street.” + +Daniel was trembling on his bed. + +“Ah, sir!” he exclaimed, “I used to live in University Street, Paris.” + +A slight blush passed over the lawyer’s face, a sign of unequivocal +satisfaction in him. He uttered half loud, as if replying to certain +objections in his own mind,-- + +“Everything is becoming clear.” + +And yet, to the great surprise of his listeners, he abandoned this +point; and, returning to the prisoner, he asked him,-- + +“So you acknowledge having received money for the murder of Lieut. +Champcey?” + +“I never said so.” + +“No; but the three thousand francs found concealed on your person say so +very clearly. From whom did you receive this money?” + +“From nobody. They are my savings.” + +The lawyer shrugged his shoulders; and, looking very sternly at +Crochard, he said,-- + +“I have before compelled you to make a certain confession. I mean to +do so again and again. You will gain nothing, believe me, by struggling +against justice; and you cannot save the wretches who tempted you to +commit this crime. There is only one way left to you, if you wish for +mercy; and that is frankness. Do not forget that!” + +The assassin was, perhaps, better able to appreciate the importance of +such advice than anybody else there present. Still he remained silent +for more than a minute, shaken by a kind of nervous tremor, as if a +terrible struggle was going on in his heart. He was heard to mutter,-- + +“I do not denounce anybody. A bargain is a bargain. I am not a tell- +tale.” + +Then, all of a sudden, making up his mind, and showing himself just the +man the magistrate had expected to find, he said with a cynic laugh,-- + +“Upon my word, so much the worse for them! Since I am in the trap, let +the others be caught as well! Besides, who would have gotten the big +prize, if I had succeeded? Not I, most assuredly; and yet it was I who +risked most. Well, then, the man who hired me to ‘do the lieutenant’s +business’ is a certain Justin Chevassat.” + +The most intense disappointment seized both Daniel and the surgeon. This +was not the name they had been looking for with such deep anxiety. + +“Don’t you deceive me, Crochard?” asked the lawyer, who alone had been +able to conceal all he felt. + +“You may take my head if I lie!” + +Did he tell the truth? The lawyer thought he did; for, turning to +Daniel, he asked,-- + +“Do you know anybody by the name of Chevassat, M. Champcey?” + +“No. It is the first time in my life I hear that name.” + +“Perhaps that Chevassat was only an agent,” suggested the doctor. + +“Yes, that may be,” replied the lawyer; “although, in such matters, +people generally do their own work.” + +And, continuing his examination, he asked the accused,-- + +“Who is this Justin Chevassat?” + +“One of my friends.” + +“A friend richer than yourself, I should think?” + +“As to that--why, yes; since he has always plenty of money in his +pockets, dresses in the last fashion, and drives his carriage.” + +“What is he doing? What is his profession?” + +“Ah! as to that, I know nothing about it. I never asked him, and +he never told me. I once said to him, ‘Do you know you look like a +prodigiously lucky fellow?’ And he replied, ‘Oh, not as much so as you +think;’ but that is all.” + +“Where does he live?” + +“In Paris, Rue Louis, 39.” + +“Do you write to him there? For I dare say you have written to him since +you have been in Saigon.” + +“I send my letters to M. X. O. X. 88.” + +It became evident now, that, so far from endeavoring to save his +accomplices, Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, would do all he could to +aid justice in discovering them. He began to show the system which the +wretch was about to adopt,--to throw all the responsibility and all the +odium of the crime on the man who had hired him, and to appear the poor +devil, succumbing to destitution when he was tempted and dazzled by such +magnificent promises, that he had not the strength to resist. The lawyer +continued,-- + +“Where and how did you make the acquaintance of this Justin Chevassat?” + +“I made his acquaintance at the galleys.” + +“Ah! that is becoming interesting. And do you know for what crime he had +been condemned?” + +“For forgery, I believe, and also for theft.” + +“And what was he doing before he was condemned?” + +“He was employed by a banker, or perhaps as cashier in some large +establishment. At all events, he had money to handle; and it stuck to +his fingers.” + +“I am surprised, as you are so well informed with regard to this man’s +antecedents, that you should know nothing of his present means of +existence.” + +“He has money, plenty of money; that is all I know.” + +“Have you lost sight of him?” + +“Why, yes. Chevassat was set free long before I was. I believe he was +pardoned; and I had not met him for more than fifteen years.” + +“How did you find him again?” + +“Oh! by the merest chance, and a very bad chance for me; since, but for +him, I would not be here.” + + + + +XXVI. + +Never would a stranger who should have suddenly come into Daniel’s +chamber, upon seeing Crochard’s attitude, have imagined that the +wretch was accused of a capital crime, and was standing there before +a magistrate, in presence of the man whom he had tried three times to +assassinate. + +Quite at home in the law, as far as it was studied at the galleys, he +had instantly recognized that his situation was by no means so desperate +as he had at first supposed; that, if the jury rendered a verdict of +guilty of death, it would be against the instigator of the crime, and +that he would probably get off with a few years’ penal servitude. + +Hence he had made up his mind about his situation with that almost +bestial indifference which characterizes people who are ready for +everything, and prepared for everything. He had recovered from that +stupor which the discovery of his crime had produced in him, and from +the rage in which he had been thrown by the loss of his bank-notes. +Now there appeared, under the odious personage of the murderer, the +pretentious and ridiculous orator of the streets and prisons, who is +accustomed to make himself heard, and displays his eloquence with great +pride. + +He assumed a studied position; and it was evident that he was preparing +himself for his speech, although, afterwards, a good many words escaped +him which are found in no dictionary, but belong to the jargon of the +lowest classes, and serve to express the vilest sentiments. + +“It was,” he began, “a Friday, an unlucky day,--a week, about, before +‘The Conquest’ sailed. It might have been two o’clock. I had eaten +nothing; I had not a cent in my pockets and I was walking along the +boulevards, loafing, and thinking how I could procure some money. + +“I had crossed several streets, when a carriage stopped close to me; and +I saw a very fine gentleman step out, a cigar in his mouth, a gold +chain across his waistcoat, and a flower in his buttonhole. He entered a +glove-shop. + +“At once I said to myself, ‘Curious! I have seen that head somewhere.’ + +“Thereupon, I go to work, and remain fixed to the front of the shop, a +little at the side, though, you know, at a place where, without being +seen myself, I could very well watch my individual, who laughed and +talked, showing his white teeth, while a pretty girl was trying on +a pair of gloves. The more I looked at him, the more I thought, +‘Positively, Bagnolet, although that sweet soul don’t look as if he were +a member of your society, you know him.’ + +“However, as I could not put a name to that figure, I was going on my +way, when suddenly my memory came back to me, and I said, ‘_Cretonne_, +it is an old comrade. I shall get my dinner.’ + +“After all, I was not positively sure; because why? Fifteen years make a +difference in a man, especially when he does not particularly care to be +recognized. But I had a little way of my own to make the thing sure. + +“I waited, therefore, for my man; and, at the moment when he crossed the +sidewalk to get into his carriage, I stepped up, and cried out, though +not very loud, ‘Eh, Chevassat!’ + +“The scamp! They might have fired a cannon at his ear, and he would not +have jumped as he did when I spoke to him. And white he was,--as white +as his collar. But, nevertheless, he was not without his compass, the +screw. He puts up his eyeglass, and looks at me up and down; and then he +says in his finest manner, ‘What is it, my good fellow? Do you want to +speak to me?’ + +“Thereupon, quite sure of my business now, I say, ‘Yes, to you, Justin +Chevassat. Don’t you recall me? Evariste Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet; +eh? Do you recollect now?’ However, the gentleman continued to hold his +head high, and to look at me. At last he says, ‘_If_ you do not clear +out, I will call a policeman.’ Well, the mustard got into my nose, and I +began to cry, to annoy him, so as to collect a crowd,-- + +“‘What, what! Policemen, just call them, please do! They will take us +before a magistrate. If I am mistaken, they won’t hang me; but, if I am +not mistaken, they will laugh prodigiously. What have I to risk? Nothing +at all; for I have nothing.’ + +“I must tell you, that, while I said all this, I looked at him fixedly +with the air of a man who has nothing in his stomach, and who is bent +upon putting something into it. He also looked at me fixedly; and, if +his eyes had been pistols--but they were not. And, when he saw I was +determined, the fine gentleman softened down. + +“‘Make no noise,’ he whispered, looking with a frightened air at all the +idlers who commenced to crowd around us. And pretending to laugh +very merrily,--for the benefit of the spectators, you know,--he said, +speaking very low and very rapidly,-- + +“‘In the costume that you have on, I cannot ask you to get into my +carriage; that would only compromise us both uselessly. I shall send my +coachman back, and walk home. You can follow quietly; and, when we get +into a quiet street, we will take a cab, and talk.’ + +“As I was sure I could catch him again, if he should try to escape, I +approved the idea. ‘All right. I understand.’” + +The magistrate suddenly interrupted the accused. He thought it of great +importance that Crochard’s evidence should be written down, word for +word; and he saw, that, for some little while, the clerk had been unable +to follow. + +“Rest a moment, Crochard,” he said. + +And when the clerk had filled up what was wanting, and the magistrate +had looked it over, he said to the prisoner,-- + +“Now you can go on, but speak more slowly.” + +The wretch smiled, well pleased. This permission gave him more time to +select his words, and this flattered his vanity; for even the lowest of +these criminals have their weak point, in which their vanity is engaged. + +“Don’t let your soup get cold,” he continued. “Chevassat said a +few words to his coachman, who whipped the horse, and there he was, +promenading down the boulevard, turning his cane this way, puffing out +big clouds of smoke, as if he had not the colic at the thought that his +friend Bagnolet was following on his heels. + +“I ought to say that he had lots of friends, very genteel friends, who +wished him good-evening as they passed him. There were some even who +stopped him, shook hands with him, and offered to treat him; but he left +them all promptly, saying, ‘Excuse me, pray, I am in a hurry.’ + +“Why, yes, he was in a hurry; and I who was behind him, and saw and +heard it all, I laughed in my sleeve most heartily.” + +Whatever advantage there may be in not interrupting a great talker, who +warms up as he talks, and consequently forgets himself, the magistrate +became impatient. + +“Spare us your impressions,” he said peremptorily. + +This was not what Crochard expected. He looked hurt, and went on +angrily,-- + +“In fine, my individual goes down the boulevard as far as the opera, +turns to the right, crosses the open square, and goes down the first +street to the left. Here a cab passes; he hails it; orders the driver to +take _us_ to Vincennes. We get in; and his first care is to let down +the curtains. Then he looks at me with a smile, holds out his hand, and +says, ‘Well, old man! how are you?’ + +“At first, when I saw myself so well received, I was quite overcome. +Then reflecting, I thought, ‘It is not natural for him to be so soft. He +is getting ready for some trick. Keep your eyes open, Bagnolet.’ + +“‘Then you are not angry that I spoke to you; eh?’ He laughs, and says, +‘No.’ + +“Then I, ‘However, you hadn’t exactly a wedding-air when I spoke to +you, and I thought you were looking for a way to get rid of me +unceremoniously.’ But he said very seriously, ‘Look here, I am going to +talk to you quite openly! For a moment I was surprised; but I was not +annoyed. I have long foreseen something of the kind would happen; and +I know that every time I go out I run the risk of meeting a former +comrade. You are not the first who has recognized me, and I am prepared +to save myself all annoyance. If I wanted to get rid of you, this +very evening you would have lost all trace of me, thanks to a little +contrivance I have arranged. Besides, as you are in Paris without leave, +before twenty-four hours are over, you would _be_ in jail.’ He told me +all this so calmly, that I felt it was so, and that the scamp had some +special trick. + +“‘Then,’ I said, ‘you rather like meeting an old friend, eh?’ + +“He looked me straight in the face and replied, ‘Yes; and the proof of +it is, that if you were not here, sitting at my side, and if I had known +where to find you, I should have gone in search of you. I have something +to do for you.’” + +Henceforth Bagnolet had reason to be satisfied. + +Although the magistrate preserved his impassive appearance, Daniel and +the chief surgeon listened with breathless attention, feeling that the +prisoner had come to the really important part of his confession, from +which, no doubt, much light would be obtained. Lefloch himself listened +with open mouth; and one could follow on his ingenuous countenance all +the emotions produced by the recital of the criminal, who, but for him, +would probably have escaped justice. + +“Naturally,” continued Crochard, “when he talked of something to do, +I opened my ears wide. ‘Why,’ I said, ‘I thought you had retired from +business.’ And I really thought he had. ‘You are mistaken,’ he replied. +‘Since I left that place you know of, I have been living nicely. But +I have not put anything aside; and if an accident should happen to me, +which I have reason to fear, I would be destitute.’ + +“I should have liked very much to know more; but he would not tell me +anything else concerning himself; and I had to give him my whole history +since my release. Oh! that was soon done. I told him how nothing I had +undertaken had ever succeeded; that, finally, I had been a waiter in a +drinking-shop; that they had turned me out; and that for a month now +I had been walking the streets, having not a cent, no clothes, no +lodgings, and no bed but the quarries. + +“‘Since that is so,’ he said, ‘you shall see what a comrade is.’ I ought +to say that the cab had been going all the time we were talking, and +that we were out in the suburbs now. My Chevassat raised the blind to +look out; and, as soon as he saw a clothing store, he ordered the driver +to stop there. The driver did so; and then Chevassat said to me, ‘Come, +old man, we’ll begin by dressing you up decently.’ So we get out; and +upon my word, he buys me a shirt, trousers, a coat, and everything else +that was needful; he pays for a silk hat, and a pair of varnished +boots. Farther down the street was a watchmaker. I declare he makes me a +present of a gold watch, which I still have, and which they seized when +they put me in jail. Finally, he has spent his five hundred francs, and +gives me eighty francs to boot, to play the gentleman. + +“You need not ask if I thanked him, when we got back into the cab. After +such misery as I had endured, my morals came back with my clothes. I +would have jumped into the fire for Chevassat. Alas! I would not have +been so delighted, if I had known what I should have to pay for all +this; for in the first place”-- + +“Oh, go on!” broke in the lawyer; “go on!” + +Not without some disappointment, Crochard had to acknowledge that +everything purely personal did not seem to excite the deepest interest. +He made a face, full of spite, and then went on, speaking more +rapidly,-- + +“All these purchases had taken some time; so that it was six o’clock, +and almost dark, when we reached Vincennes. A little before we got into +the town, Chevassat stopped the cab, paid the driver, sends him back, +and, taking me by the arm, says, ‘You must be hungry: let us dine.’ + +“So we first absorb a glass of absinthe; then he carries me straight to +the best restaurant, asks for a private room, and orders a dinner. Ah, +but a dinner! Merely to hear it ordered from the bill of fare made my +mouth water. + +“We sit down; and I, fearing nothing, would not have changed places with +the pope. And I talked, and I ate, and I drank; I drank, perhaps, most; +for I had not had anything to drink for a long time; and, finally, I was +rather excited. Chevassat seemed to have unbuttoned, and told me lots of +funny things which set me a-laughing heartily. But when the coffee had +been brought, with liquors in abundance, and cigars at ten cents apiece, +my individual rises, and pushes the latch in the door; for there was a +latch. + +“Then he comes back, and sits down right in front of me, with his elbows +on the table. ‘Now, old man,’ he says, ‘we have had enough laughing and +talking. I am a good fellow, you know; but you understand that I am not +treating you for the sake of your pretty face alone. I want a good stout +fellow; and I thought you might be the man.’ + +“Upon my word, he told me that in such a peculiar way, that I felt as if +somebody had kicked me in the stomach; and I began to be afraid of him. +Still I concealed my fears, and said, ‘Well, let us see; go it! What’s +the row?’ + +“At once he replies, ‘As I told you before, I have not laid up a cent. +But if anything should happen to a certain person whom I think of, I +should be rich; and you--why, you might be rich too, if you were willing +to give him a little push with the elbow, so that the thing might happen +to him a little sooner.’” + +Earnestly bent upon the part which he had to play for the sake of +carrying out his system of defence, the prisoner assumed more and more +hypocritical repentance, an effort which gave to his wicked face a +peculiarly repulsive expression. + +The magistrate, however, though no doubt thoroughly disgusted with this +absurd comedy, did not move a muscle of his face, nor make a gesture, +anxious, as he was, not to break the thread of this important +deposition. + +“Ah, sir!” exclaimed Crochard, his hand upon his heart, “when I +heard Chevassat talk that way, my heart turned within me, and I said, +‘Unfortunate man, what do you mean? I should commit a murder? Never! I’d +rather die first!’ He laughed, and replied, ‘Don’t be a fool; who talks +to you of murder? I spoke of an accident. Besides, you would not risk +anything. The thing would happen to him abroad.’ I continued, however, +to refuse, and I spoke even of going away; when Chevassat seized a big +knife, and said, now that I had his secret, I was bound to go on. If +not!--he looked at me with such a terrible air, that, upon my word, I +was frightened, and sat down again. + +“Then, all at once, he became as jolly again as before; and, whilst he +kept pouring the brandy into my glass, he explained to me that I would +be a fool to hesitate; that I could never in all my life find such a +chance again of making a fortune; that I would most certainly succeed; +and that then I would have an income, keep a carriage as he did, wear +fine clothes, and have every day a dinner like the one we had just been +enjoying together. + +“I became more and more excited. This lot of gold which he held up +before my mind’s eyes dazzled me; and the strong drink I had been taking +incessantly got into my head. Then he flourished again the big knife +before my face; and finally I did not know what I was saying or doing. +I got up; and, striking the table with my fist, I cried out, ‘I am your +man!’” + +Although, probably, the whole scene never took place, except in the +prisoner’s imagination, Daniel could not help trembling under his cover, +at the thought of these two wretches arranging for his death, while they +were there, half drunk, glass in hand, and their elbows resting on a +table covered with wine-stains. Lefloch, on his part, stood grasping +the bedstead so hard with his hand, that the wood cracked. Perhaps he +dreamed he held in his grasp the neck of the man who was talking so +coolly of murdering his lieutenant. The lawyer and the doctor thought of +nothing but of watching the contortions of the accused. He had drawn a +handkerchief from his pocket, and rubbed his eyes hard, as if he hoped +thus to bring forth a few tears. + +“Come, come!” said the magistrate. “No scene!” + +Crochard sighed deeply, and then continued in a tearful tone,-- + +“They might cut me to pieces, and I would not be able to say what +happened after that. I was dead drunk, and do not recollect a thing any +more. From what Chevassat afterwards told me, I had to be carried to +the carriage; and he took me to a hotel in the suburb, where he hired a +lodging for me. When I woke the next day, a little before noon, my head +was as heavy as lead; and I tried to recall what had happened at the +restaurant, and if it was not perhaps merely the bad wine that had given +me the nightmare. + +“Unfortunately, it was no dream; and I soon found that out, when a +waiter came up and brought me a letter. Chevassat wrote me to come +to his house, and to breakfast with him for the purpose of talking +business. + +“Of course I went. I asked the concierge where M. Justin Chevassat lives +in the house; and he directs me to go to the second floor, on the right +hand. I go up, ring the bell; a servant opens the door; I enter, and +find, in an elegant apartment, my brigand in a dressing-gown, stretched +out on a sofa. On the way I had made up my mind to tell him positively +that he need not count upon me; that the thing was a horror to me; and +that I retracted all I had said. But, as soon as I began, he became +perfectly furious, calling me a coward and a traitor, and telling me +that I had no choice but to make my fortune, or to receive a blow with +the big knife between my shoulders. At the same time he spread out +before me a great heap of gold. Then, yes, then I was weak. I felt I was +caught. Chevassat frightened me; the gold intoxicated me. I pledged my +word; and the bargain was made.” + +As he said this, Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, sighed deeply and noisily, +like a man whose heart has been relieved of a grievous burden. He really +felt prodigiously relieved. To have to confess everything on the spot, +without a moment’s respite to combine a plan of apology, was a hard +task. Now, the wretch had stood this delicate and dangerous trial pretty +well, and thought he had managed cleverly enough to prepare for the day +of his trial a number of extenuating circumstances. But the magistrate +hardly gave him time to breathe. + +“Not so fast,” he said: “we are not done yet. What were the conditions +which you and Chevassat agreed upon?” + +“Oh! very simple, sir. I, for my part, said yes to everything he +proposed. He magnetized me, I tell you, that man! We agreed, therefore, +that he would pay me four thousand francs in advance, and that, after +the accident, he would give me six thousand certain, and a portion of +the sum which he would secure.” + +“Thus you undertook, for ten thousand francs, to murder a man?” + +“I thought”-- + +“That sum is very far from those fabulous amounts by which you said you +had been blinded and carried away.” + +“Pardon me! There was that share in the great fortune.” + +“Ah! You knew very well that Chevassat would never have paid you +anything.” + +Crochard’s hands twitched nervously. He cried out,-- + +“Chevassat cheat me! _cochonnere_! I would have--but no; he knows me; he +would never have dared”-- + +The magistrate had caught the prisoner’s eye, and, fixing him sternly, +he said good-naturedly,-- + +“Why did you tell me, then, that that man magnetized you, and frightened +you out of your wits?” + +The wretch had gone into the snare, and, instead of answering, hung his +head, and tried to sob. + +“Repentance is all very well,” said the lawyer, who did not seem to +be in the least touched; “but just now it would be better for you +to explain how your trip to Cochin China was arranged. Come, collect +yourself, and give us the details.” + +“As to that,” he resumed his account, “you see Chevassat explained to +me everything at breakfast; and the very same day he gave me the address +which you found on the paper in which the bank-notes were wrapped up.” + +“What did he give you M. Champcey’s address for?” + +“So that I might know him personally.” + +“Well, go on.” + +“At first, when I heard he was a lieutenant in the navy, I said I must +give it up, knowing as I did that with such men there is no trifling. +But Chevassat scolded me so terribly, and called me such hard names, +that I finally got mad, and promised everything. + +“‘Besides,’ he said to me, ‘listen to my plan. The navy department wants +mechanics to go to Saigon. They have not gotten their full number yet: +so you go and offer yourself. They will accept you, and even pay your +journey to Rochefort: a boat will carry you out to the roadstead on +board the frigate “Conquest.” Do you know whom you will find on board? +Our man, Lieut. Champcey. Well, now, I tell you! that if any accident +should happen to him, either during the voyage, or at Saigon, +that accident will pass unnoticed, as a letter passes through the +post-office.’ + +“Yes, that’s what he told me, every word of it; and I think I hear him +now. And I--I was so completely bewildered, that I had nothing to say in +return. However, there was one thing which troubled me; and I thought, +‘Well, after all, they won’t accept me at the navy department, with my +antecedents.’ + +“But, when I mentioned the difficulty to Chevassat, he laughed. Oh, but +he laughed! it made me mad. + +“‘You are surely more of a fool than I thought,’ he said. ‘Are your +condemnations written on your face? No, I should say. Well, as you will +exhibit your papers in excellent order, they will take you.’ + +“I opened my eyes wide, and said, ‘That’s all very pretty, what you say; +but the mischief is, that, as I have not worked at my profession +for more than fifteen years, I have no papers at all.’ He shrugs his +shoulders, and says, ‘You shall have your papers.’ That worries me; and +I reply, ‘If I have to steal somebody’s papers, and change my name, +I won’t do it.’ But the brigand had his notions. ‘You shall keep your +name,’ he said, touching me on the shoulder. ‘You shall always remain +Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet; and you shall have your papers as engraver +on metal as perfect as anybody can have them.’ + +“And, to be sure, the second day after that he gave me a set of papers, +signatures, seals, all in perfect order.” + +“The papers found in your room, you mean?” asked the lawyer. + +“Exactly.” + +“Where did Chevassat get them?” + +“Get them? Why, he had made them himself. He can do anything he chooses +with his pen, the scamp! If he takes it into his head to imitate your +own handwriting, you would never suspect it.” + +Daniel and the old surgeon exchanged glances. This was a strong and very +important point in connection with the forged letter that had been sent +to the navy department, and claimed to be signed by Daniel himself. The +magistrate was as much struck by the fact as they were; but his features +remained unchanged; and, pursuing his plan in spite of all the incidents +of the examination, he asked,-- + +“These papers caused no suspicion?” + +“None whatever. I had only to show them, and they accepted me. Besides, +Chevassat said he would enlist some people in my behalf; perhaps I had +been specially recommended.” + +“And thus you sailed?” + +“Yes. They gave me my ticket, some money for travelling expenses; +and, five days after my meeting with Chevassat, I was on board ‘The +Conquest.’ Lieut. Champcey was not there. Ah! I began to hope he would +not go out on the expedition at all. Unfortunately, he arrived forty- +eight hours afterwards, and we sailed at once.” + +The marvellous coolness of the wretch showed clearly under his affected +trouble; and, while it confounded Daniel and the old surgeon, it +filled the faithful Lefloch with growing indignation. He spoke of this +abominable plot, of this assassination which had been so carefully +plotted, and of the price agreed upon, and partly paid in advance, as if +the whole had been a fair commercial operation. + +“Now, Crochard,” said the lawyer, “I cannot impress it too strongly on +your mind, how important it is for your own interests that you should +tell the truth. Remember, all your statements will be verified. Do you +know whether Chevassat lives in Paris under an assumed name?” + +“No, sir! I have always heard him called Chevassat by everybody.” + +“What? By everybody?” + +“Well, I mean his concierge, his servants.” + +The magistrate seemed for a moment to consider how he should frame his +next question; and then he asked, all of a sudden,-- + +“Suppose that the--accident, as you call it, had succeeded, you would +have taken ship; you would have arrived in France; you reach Paris; how +would you have found Chevassat to claim your six thousand francs?” + +“I should have gone to his house, where I breakfasted with him; and, if +he had left, the concierge would have told me where he lived now.” + +“Then you really think you saw him at his own rooms? Consider. If you +left him only for a couple of hours, between the time when you first +met him and the visit you paid him afterwards, he might very well have +improvised a new domicile for himself.” + +“Ah! I did not lie, sir. When dinner was over, I had lost my +consciousness, and I did not get wide awake again till noon on the next +day. Chevassat had the whole night and next morning.” + +Then, as a suspicion suddenly flashed through Crochard’s mind, he +exclaimed,-- + +“Ah, the brigand! Why did he urge me never to write to him otherwise +than ‘to be called for’?” + +The magistrate had turned to his clerk. + +“Go down,” he said, “and see if any of the merchants in town have a +Paris Directory.” + +The clerk went off like an arrow, and appeared promptly back again with +the volume in question. The magistrate hastened to look up the address +given by the prisoner, and found it entered thus: “_Langlois_, sumptuous +apartments for families and single persons. Superior attendance.” + +“I was almost sure of it,” he said to himself. + +Then handing Daniel the paper on which the words “University” and +“Street” could be deciphered, he asked,-- + +“Do you know that handwriting, M. Champcey?” + +Too full of the lawyer’s shrewd surmises to express any surprise, Daniel +looked at the words, and said coolly,-- + +“That is Maxime de Brevan’s handwriting.” + +A rush of blood colored instantly the pale face of Crochard. He was +furious at the idea of having been duped by his accomplice, by the +instigator of the crime he had committed, and for which he would +probably never have received the promised reward. + +“Ah, the brigand!” he exclaimed. “And I, who was very near not +denouncing him at all!” + +A slight smile passed over the lawyer’s face. His end had been attained. +He had foreseen this wrath on the part of the prisoner; he had prepared +it carefully, and caused it to break out fully; for he knew it would +bring him full light on the whole subject. + +“To cheat me, me!” Crochard went on with extraordinary vehemence,--“to +cheat a friend, an old comrade! Ah the rascal! But he sha’n’t go to +paradise, if I can help it! Let them cut my throat, I don’t mind it; I +shall be quite content even, provided I see his throat cut first.” + +“He has not even been arrested yet.” + +“But nothing is easier than to catch him, sir. He must be uneasy at not +hearing from me; and I am sure he is going every day to the post-office +to inquire if there are no letters yet for M. X. O. X. 88. I can write +to him. Do you want me to write to him? I can tell him that I have once +more missed it, and that I have been caught even, but that the police +have found out nothing, and that they have set me free again. I am sure, +after that, the scamp will keep quiet; and the police will have nothing +to do but to take the omnibus, and arrest him at his lodgings.” + +The magistrate had allowed the prisoner to give free vent to his fury, +knowing full well by experience how intensely criminals hate those of +their accomplices by whom they find themselves betrayed. And he was in +hopes that the rage of this man might suggest a new idea, or furnish him +with new facts. When he saw he was not likely to gain much, he said,-- + +“Justice cannot stoop to such expedients.” Then he added, seeing how +disappointed Crochard looked,-- + +“You had better try and recollect all you can. Have you forgotten +or concealed nothing that might assist us in carrying out this +examination?” + +“No; I think I have told you every thing.” + +“You cannot furnish any additional evidence of the complicity of Justin +Chevassat, of his efforts to tempt you to commit this crime, or of the +forgery he committed in getting up a false set of papers for you?” + +“No! Ah, he is a clever one, and leaves no trace behind him that could +convict him. But, strong as he is, if we could be confronted in court, +I’d undertake, just by looking at him, to get the truth out of him +somehow.” + +“You shall be confronted, I promise you.” + +The prisoner seemed to be amazed. + +“Are you going to send for Chevassat?” he asked. + +“No. You will be sent home, to be tried there.” + +A flash of joy shone in the eyes of the wretch. He knew the voyage would +not be a pleasant one; but the prospect of being tried in France was +as good as an escape from capital punishment to his mind. Besides, he +delighted in advance in the idea of seeing Chevassat in court, seated by +his side as a fellow-prisoner. + +“Then,” he asked again, “they will send me home?” + +“On the first national vessel that leaves Saigon.” + +The magistrate went and sat down at the table where the clerk was +writing, and rapidly ran his eye over the long examination, seeing if +anything had been overlooked. When he had done, he said,-- + +“Now give me as accurate a description of Justin Chevassat as you can.” + +Crochard passed his hand repeatedly over his forehead; and then, his +eyes staring at empty space, and his neck stretched out, as if he saw a +phantom which he had suddenly called up, he said,-- + +“Chevassat is a man of my age; but he does not look more than twenty +seven or eight. That is what made me hesitate at first, when I met him +on the boulevard. He is a handsome fellow, very well made, and wears +all his beard. He looks clever, with soft eyes; and his face inspires +confidence at once.” + +“Ah! that is Maxime all over,” broke in Daniel. + +And, suddenly remembering something, he called Lefloch. The sailor +started, and almost mechanically assumed the respectful position of a +sailor standing before his officer. + +“Lieutenant?” he said. + +“Since I have been sick, they have brought part of my baggage here; have +they not?” + +“Yes, lieutenant, all of it.” + +“Well. Go and look for a big red book with silver clasps. You have no +doubt seen me look at it often.” + +“Yes, lieutenant; and I know where it is.” + +And he immediately opened one of the trunks that were piled up in a +corner of the room, and took from it a photograph album, which, upon a +sign from Daniel, he handed to the lawyer. + +“Will you please,” said Daniel at the same time, “ask the prisoner, if, +among the sixty or seventy portraits in that book, he knows any one?” + +The album was handed to Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, who turned over +leaf after leaf, till all of a sudden, and almost beside himself, he +cried out,-- + +“Here he is, Justin Chevassat! Oh! that’s he, no doubt about it.” + +Daniel could, from his bed, see the photograph, and said,-- + +“That is Maxime’s portrait.” + +After this decisive evidence, there could be no longer any doubt that +Justin Chevassat and Maxime de Brevan were one and the same person. The +investigation was complete, as far as it could be carried on in Saigon; +the remaining evidence had to be collected in Paris. The magistrate +directed, therefore, the clerk to read the deposition; and Crochard +followed it without making a single objection. But when he had signed +it, and the gendarmes were about to carry him off again, and to put +on the handcuffs, he asked leave to make an addition. The magistrate +assented; and Crochard said,-- + +“I do not want to excuse myself, nor to make myself out innocent; but I +do not like, on the other hand, to seem worse than I am.” + +He had assumed a very decided position, and evidently aimed at giving to +his words an expression of coarse but perfect frankness. + +“The thing which I had undertaken to do, it was not in my power to do. +It has never entered my head to kill a man treacherously. If I had been +a brute, such as these are, the lieutenant would not be there, wounded +to be sure, but alive. Ten times I might have done his business most +effectively; but I did not care. I tried in vain to think of Chevassat’s +big promises; at the last moment, my heart always failed me. The thing +was too much for me. And the proof of it is, that I missed him at ten +yards’ distance. The only time when I tried it really in earnest was +in the little boat, because there, I ran some risk; it was like a duel, +since my life was as much at stake as the lieutenant’s. I can swim as +well as anybody, to be sure; but in a river like the Dong-Nai, at +night, and with a current like that, no swimmer can hold his own. The +lieutenant got out of it; but I was very near being drowned. I could not +get on land again until I had been carried down two miles or more; and, +when I did get on shore, I sank in the mud up to my hips. Now, I humbly +beg the lieutenant’s pardon; and you shall see if I am going to let +Chevassat escape.” + +Thereupon he held out his hands for the handcuffs, with a theatrical +gesture, and left the room. + + + + +XXVII. + +In the meantime, the long, trying scene had exhausted Daniel; and he lay +there, panting, on his bed. The surgeon and the lawyer withdrew, to let +him have some rest. + +He certainly needed it; but how could he sleep with the fearful idea +of his Henrietta--she whom he loved with his whole heart--being in the +hands of this Justin Chevassat, a forger, a former galley-slave, the +accomplice and friend of Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet? + +“And I myself handed her over to him!” he repeated for the thousandth +time,--“I, her only friend upon earth! And her confidence in me was +so great, that, if she had any presentiment, she suppressed it for my +sake.” + +Daniel had, to be sure, a certain assurance now, that Maxime de Brevan +would not be able to escape from justice. But what did it profit him to +be avenged, when it was too late, long after Henrietta should have been +forced to seek in suicide the only refuge from Brevan’s persecution? Now +it seemed to him as if the magistrate was far more anxiously concerned +for the punishment of the guilty than for the safety of the victims. +Blinded by passion, so as to ask for impossibilities, Daniel would have +had this lawyer, who was so clever in unearthing crimes committed in +Saigon, find means rather to prevent the atrocious crime which was now +going on in France. On his part, he had done the only thing that could +be done. + +At the first glimpse of reason that had appeared after his terrible +sufferings, he had hastened to write to Henrietta, begging her to take +courage, and promising her that he would soon be near her. In this +letter he had enclosed the sum of four thousand francs. + +This letter was gone. But how long would it take before it could reach +her? Three or four months, perhaps even more. + +Would it reach her in time? Might it not be intercepted, like the +others? All these anxieties made a bed of burning coals of the couch +of the poor wounded man. He twisted and turned restlessly from side to +side, and felt as if he were once more going to lose his senses. And +still, by a prodigious effort of his will, his convalescence pursued its +normal, steady way in spite of so many contrary influences. + +A fortnight after Crochard’s confession, Daniel could get up; he spent +the afternoon in an arm-chair, and was even able to take a few steps in +his chamber. The next week he was able to get down into the garden +of the hospital, and to walk about there, leaning on the arm of his +faithful Lefloch. And with his strength and his health, hope, also, +began to come back; when, all of a sudden, two letters from Henrietta +rekindled the fever. + +In one the poor _girl_ told him how she had lived so far on the money +obtained from the sale of the little jewelry she had taken with her, but +added that she was shamefully cheated, and would soon be compelled to +seek employment of some sort in order to support herself. + +“I am quite sure,” she said, with a kind of heartrending cheerfulness, +“that I can earn my forty cents a day; and with that, my friend, I shall +be as happy as a queen, and wait for your return, free from want.” + +In the other she wrote,-- + +“None of my efforts to procure work has so far succeeded. The future +is getting darker and darker. Soon I shall be without bread. I shall +struggle on to the last extremity, were it only not to give my enemies +the joy of seeing me dead. But, Daniel, if you wish to see your +Henrietta again, come back; oh, come back!” + +Daniel had not suffered half as much the day when the assassin’s ball +ploughed through his chest. He was evidently reading one of those last +cries which precede agony. After these two fearful letters, he could +only expect a last one from Henrietta,--a letter in which she would tell +him, “All is over. I am dying. Farewell!” + +He sent for the chief surgeon, and said, as soon as he entered,-- + +“I must go!” + +The good doctor frowned, and replied rudely,-- + +“Are you mad? Do you know that you cannot stand up fifteen minutes?” + +“I can lie down in my berth.” + +“You would kill yourself.” + +“What of that? I would rather suffer death than what I now endure. +Besides, I have made up my mind irrevocably! Read this, and you will see +yourself that I cannot do otherwise.” + +The chief surgeon took in Henrietta’s last letter almost at a single +glance; but he held it in his hand for some time, pretending to read it, +but in reality meditating. + +“I am sure,” the excellent man thought in his heart, “I am sure, in this +man’s place, I should do the same. But would this imprudence be of any +use to him? No; for he could not reach the mouth of the Dong-Nai alive. +Therefore it is my duty to keep him here: and that can be done, since he +is as yet unable to go out alone; and Lefloch will obey me, I am sure, +when I tell him that his master’s life depends upon his obedience.” + +Too wise to meet so decided a determination as Daniel’s was by a flat +refusal, he said,-- + +“Very well, then; be it as you choose!” + +Only he came in again the same evening, and, with an air of +disappointment, said to Daniel,-- + +“To go is all very well; but there is one difficulty in the way, of +which neither you nor I have thought.” + +“And what is that?” + +“There is no vessel going home.” + +“Really, doctor?” + +“Ah! my dear friend,” replied the excellent man boldly, “do you think I +could deceive you?” + +Evidently Daniel thought him quite capable of doing so; but he took +good care not to show his suspicions, reserving to himself the right of +making direct inquiries as soon as the opportunity should offer. It came +the very next morning. Two friends of his called to see him. He sent +Lefloch out of the room on some pretext, and then begged them to go down +to the port, and to engage a passage for him,--no, not for him, but for +his man, whom urgent business recalled to France. + +In the most eager manner the two gentlemen disappeared. They stayed away +three hours; and, when they came back, their answer was the same as the +doctor’s. They declared they had made inquiries on all sides; but they +were quite sure that there was not a single vessel in Saigon ready to +sail for home. Ten other persons whom Daniel asked to do the same +thing brought him the same answer. And yet, that very week, two ships +sailed,--one for Havre, the other for Bordeaux. But the concierge of +the hospital, and Lefloch, were so well drilled, that no visitor reached +Daniel before having learned his lesson thoroughly. + +Thus they succeeded in keeping Daniel quiet for a fortnight; but, at the +end of that time, he declared that he felt quite well enough to look out +for a ship himself; and that, if he could do no better, he meant to +sail for Singapore, where he would be sure to procure a passage home. It +would, of course, have been simple folly to try and keep a man back who +was so much bent upon his purpose; and, as his first visit to the port +would have revealed to him the true state of things, the old surgeon +preferred to make a clean breast of it. When he learned that he had +missed two ships, Daniel was at first naturally very much incensed. + +“That was not right, doctor, to treat me thus,” he exclaimed. “It was +wrong; for you know what sacred duties call me home.” + +But the surgeon was prepared for his justification. He replied with a +certain solemnity which he rarely assumed,-- + +“I have only obeyed my conscience. If I had let you set sail in the +condition in which you were, I should have virtually sent you to your +grave, and thus have deprived your betrothed, Miss Ville-Handry, of her +last and only chance of salvation.” + +Daniel shook his head sadly, and said,-- + +“But if I get there too late, too late; by a week, a day, do you think, +doctor, I shall not curse your prudence? And who knows, now, when a ship +will leave?” + +“When? On Sunday, in five days; and that ship is ‘The Saint Louis’ a +famous clipper, and so good a sailor, that you will easily overtake the +two big three-masters that have sailed before you.” + +Offering his hand to Daniel, he added,-- + +“Come, my dear Champcey; don’t blame an old friend who has done what he +thought was his duty to do.” + +Daniel was too painfully affected to pay much attention to the +conclusive and sensible reasons alleged by the chief surgeon; he saw +nothing but that his friends had taken advantage of his condition to +keep him in the dark. Still he also felt that it would have been black +ingratitude and stupid obstinacy to preserve in his heart a shadow +of resentment. He therefore, took the hand that was offered him, and, +pressing it warmly, replied in a tone of deep emotion,-- + +“Whatever the future may have in store for me, doctor, I shall never +forget that I owe my life to your devotion.” + +As usually, when he felt that excitement was overcoming him,--a very +rare event, to tell the truth,--the old surgeon fell back into his rough +and abrupt manner. + +“I have attended you as I would have attended any one: that is my duty, +and you need not trouble yourself about your gratitude. If any one owes +me thanks, it is Miss Ville-Handry; and I beg you will remind her of it +when she is your wife. And now you will be good enough to dismiss all +those dismal ideas, and remember that you have only five days longer to +tremble with impatience in this abominable country.” + +He spoke easily enough of it,--five days! It was an eternity for a +man in Daniel’s state of mind. In three hours he had made all his +preparations for his departure, arranged his business matters, and +obtained a furlough for Lefloch, who was to go with him. At noon, +therefore, he asked himself with terror, how he was to employ his time +till night, when they came, and asked if he would please come over to +the courthouse, to see the magistrate. + +He went at once, and found the lawyer, but so changed, that he hardly +recognized him at first. The last mail had brought him the news of his +appointment to a judgeship, which he had long anxiously desired, and +which would enable him to return, not only to France, but to his native +province. He meant to sail in a frigate which was to leave towards the +end of the month, and in which Crochard, also, was to be sent home. + +“In this way,” he said, “I shall arrive at the same time as the accused, +and very soon after the papers, which were sent home last week; and I +trust and hope I shall be allowed to conduct the trial of an affair, +which, so far, has gone smoothly enough in my hands.” + +His impassive air was gone; and that official mask was laid aside, which +might have been looked upon as much a part of his official costume as +the black gown which was lying upon one of his trunks. He laughed, he +rubbed his hands, and said,-- + +“I should take pleasure in having him in my court, this Justin +Chevassat, alias Maxime de Brevan. He must be a cool swindler, brimful +of cunning and astuteness, familiar with all the tricks of criminal +courts, and not so easily overcome. It will be no child’s play, I am +sure, to prove that he was the instigator of Crochard’s crimes, and +that he has hired him with his own money. Ah! There will be lively +discussions and curious incidents.” + +Daniel listened, quite bewildered. + +“He, too,” he thought. “Professional enthusiasm carries him away; and +here he is, troubling himself about the discussions in court, neither +less nor more than Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet. He thinks only of the +honor he will reap for having handed over to the jury such a formidable +rascal as”-- + +But the lawyer had not sent for Daniel to speak to him of his plans and +his hopes. Having learned from the chief surgeon that Lieut. Champcey +was on the point of sailing, he wished to tell him that he would receive +a very important packet, which he was desired to hand to the court as +soon as he reached Paris. + +“This is, you understand,” he concluded, “an additional precaution which +we take to prevent Maxime de Brevan from escaping us.” + +It was five o’clock when Daniel left the court-house; and on the little +square before it he found the old surgeon, waiting to carry him off to +dinner, and a game of whist in the evening. So, when he undressed at +night, he said to himself,-- + +“After all, the day has not been so very long!” + +But to-morrow, and the day after to-morrow, and the next days! + +He tried in vain to get rid of the fixed idea which filled his mind,--a +mechanical instinct, so to say, which was stronger than his will, and +drove him incessantly to the wharf where “The Saint Louis” was lying. +Sitting on some bags of rice, he spent hour after hour in watching the +cargo as it was put on board. Never had the Annamites and the +Chinamen, who in Saigon act as stevedores, appeared to him so lazy, so +intolerable. Sometimes he felt as if, seeing or guessing his impatience, +they were trying to irritate him by moving the bales with the utmost +slowness, and walking with unbearable laziness around with the windlass. + +Then, when he could no longer bear the sight, he went to the cafe on the +wharf, where the captain of “The Saint Louis” was generally to be found. + +“Your men will never finish, captain,” he said. “You will never be ready +by Sunday.” + +To which the captain invariably replied in his fierce Marseilles +accent,-- + +“Don’t be afraid, lieutenant. ‘The Saint Louis,’ I tell you, beats the +Indian mail in punctuality.” + +And really, on Saturday, when he saw his passenger come as usual to the +cafe, the captain exclaimed,-- + +“Well, what did I tell you? We are all ready. At five o’clock I get my +mail at the post-office; and to-morrow morning we are off. I was just +going to send you word that you had better sleep on board.” + +That evening the officers of “The Conquest,” gave Daniel a farewell +dinner; and it was nearly midnight, when, after having once more shaken +hands most cordially with the old chief surgeon, he took possession of +his state-room, one of the largest on board ship, in which they had put +up two berths, so that, in case of need, Lefloch might be at hand to +attend his master. + +Then at last, towards four o’clock in the morning, Daniel was aroused +by the clanking of chains, accompanied by the singing of the sailors. He +hastened on deck. They were getting up anchors; and, an hour after that, +“The Saint Louis” went down the Dong-Nai, aided by a current, rushing +along “like lightning.” + +“And now,” said Daniel to Lefloch, “I shall judge, by the time it will +take us to get home, if fortune is on my side.” + +Yes, fate, at last, declared for him. Never had the most extraordinarily +favorable winds hastened a ship home as in this case. “The Saint Louis” + was a first-class sailer; and the captain, stimulated by the presence of +a navy lieutenant, always exacted the utmost from his ship; so that +on the seventeenth day after they had left Saigon, on a fine winter +afternoon, Daniel could see the hills above Marseilles rise from the +blue waters of the Mediterranean. He was drawing near the end of the +voyage and of his renewed anxieties. Two days more, and he would be in +Paris, and his fate would be irrevocably fixed. + +But would they let him go on shore that evening? He trembled as he +thought of all the formalities which have to be observed when a ship +arrives. The quarantine authorities might raise difficulties, and cause +a delay. + +Standing by the side of the captain, he was watching the masts, which +looked as if they were loaded down with all the sails they could carry, +when a cry from the lookout in the bow of the vessel attracted his +attention. That man reported, at two ship’s lengths on starboard, a +small boat, like a pilot-boat, making signs of distress. The captain +and Daniel exchanged looks of disappointment. The slightest delay in +the position in which they were, and at a season when night falls so +suddenly, deprived them of all hope of going on shore that night. And +who could tell how long it would take them to go to the rescue of that +boat? + +“Well, never mind!” said Daniel. “We have to do it.” + +“I wish they were in paradise!” swore the captain. + +Nevertheless, he ordered all that was necessary to slacken speed, and +then to tack so as to come close upon the little boat. + +It was a difficult and tedious manoeuvre; but at last, after half an +hour’s work, they could throw a rope into the boat. + +There were two men in it, who hastened to come on the deck of the +clipper. One was a sailor of about twenty, the other a man of perhaps +fifty, who looked like a country gentleman, appeared ill at ease, and +cast about him restless glances in all directions. But, whilst they were +hoisting themselves up by the man-rope; the captain of “The Saint Louis” + had had time to examine their boat, and to ascertain that it was in good +condition, and every thing in it in perfect order. + +Crimson with wrath, he now seized the young sailor by his collar; and, +shaking him so roughly as nearly to disjoint his neck, he said with a +formidable oath,-- + +“Are you making fun of me? What wretched joke have you been playing?” + +Like their captain, the men on board, also, had discovered the perfect +uselessness of the signals of distress which had excited their sympathy; +and their indignation was great at what they considered a stupid +mystification. They surrounded the sailor with a threatening air, +while he struggled in the captain’s hand, and cried in his Marseilles +jargon,-- + +“Let go! You are smothering me! It is not my fault. It was the gentleman +there, who hired my boat for a sail. I, I would not make the signal; +but”-- + +Nevertheless, the poor fellow would probably have experienced some very +rough treatment, if the “gentleman” had not come running up, and covered +him with his own body, exclaiming,-- + +“Let that poor boy go! I am the only one to blame!” + +The captain, in a great rage, pushed him back, and, looking at him +savagely, said,-- + +“Ah! so it is you who have dared”-- + +“Yes, I did it. But I had my reasons. This is surely ‘The Saint Louis,’ +eh, coming from Saigon?” + +“Yes. What next?” + +“You have on board Lieut. Champcey of the navy?” + +Daniel, who had been a silent witness of the scene, now stepped forward, +very much puzzled. + +“I am Lieut. Champcey, sir,” he said. “What do you desire?” + +But, instead of replying, the “gentleman” raised his hands to heaven in +a perfect ecstasy of joy, and said in an undertone,-- + +“We triumph at last!” + +Then, turning to Daniel and the captain, he said,-- + +“But come, gentlemen, come! I must explain my conduct; and we must be +alone for what I have to tell you.” + +Pale, and with every sign of seasickness in his face, when he had first +appeared on deck, the man now seemed to have recovered, and, in spite of +the rolling of the vessel, followed the captain and Daniel with a firm +step to the quarter-deck. As soon as they were alone, he said,-- + +“Could I be here, if I had not used a stratagem? Evidently not. And yet +I had the most powerful interest in boarding ‘The Saint Louis’ before +she should enter port; therefore I did not hesitate.” + +He drew from his pocket a sheet of paper, simply folded twice, and +said,-- + +“Here is my apology, Lieut. Champcey; see if it is sufficient.” + +Utterly amazed, the young officer read,-- + + +“I am saved, Daniel; and I owe my life to the man who will hand you +this. I shall owe to him the pleasure of seeing you again. Confide in +him as you would in your best and most devoted friend; and, I beseech +you, do not hesitate to follow his advice literally. + +“Henrietta.” + + +Daniel turned deadly pale, and tottered. This unexpected, intense +happiness overcame him. + +“Then--it is true--she is alive?” he stammered. + +“She is at my sister’s house, safe from all danger.” + +“And you, sir, you have rescued her?” + +“I did!” + +Prompt like thought, Daniel seized the man’s hands, and, pressing them +vehemently, exclaimed with a penetrating voice,-- + +“Never, sir, never, whatever may happen, can I thank you enough. But +remember, I pray you, under all circumstances, and for all times, you +can count upon Lieut. Champcey.” + +A strange smile played on the man’s lips; and, shaking his head, he +said, “I shall before long remind you of your promise, lieutenant.” + +Standing between the two men, the captain of “The Saint Louis” was +looking alternately at the one and the other with an astonished air, +listening without comprehending, and imagining marvellous things. The +only point he understood was this, that his presence was, to say the +least, not useful. + +“If that is so,” he said to Daniel, “we cannot blame this gentleman for +the ugly trick he has played us.” + +“Blame him? Oh, certainly not!” + +“Then I’ll leave you. I believe I have treated the sailor who brought +him on board a little roughly; but I am going to order him a glass of +brandy, which will set him right again.” + +Thereupon the captain discreetly withdrew; while Papa Ravinet +continued,-- + +“You will tell me, M. Champcey, that it would have been simpler to wait +for you in port, and hand you my letter of introduction there. That +would have been grievous imprudence. If I heard at the navy department +of your arrival, others may have learned it as well. As soon, therefore, +as ‘The Saint Louis’ was telegraphed in town, you may be sure a spy was +sent to the wharf, who is going to follow you, never losing sight of +you, and who will report all your goings and your doings.” + +“What does it matter?” + +“Ah! do not say so, sir! If our enemies hear of our meeting, you see, +if they only find out that we have conversed together, all is lost. They +would see the danger that threatens them, and they would escape.” + +Daniel could hardly trust his ears. + +“Our enemies?” he asked, emphasizing the word “our.” + +“Yes: I mean _our_ enemies,--Sarah Brandon, Countess Ville-Handry, +Maxime de Brevan, Thomas Elgin, and Mrs. Brian.” + +“You hate them?” + +“If I hate them! I tell you for five years I have lived only on the hope +of being able to avenge myself on them. Yes, it is five years now, that, +lost in the crowd, I have followed them with the perseverance of an +Indian,--five years that I have patiently, incessantly, inch by inch, +undermined the ground beneath their steps. And they suspect nothing. I +doubt whether they are aware of my existence. No, not even--What would +it be to them, besides? They have pushed me so far down into the mud, +that they cannot imagine my ever rising again up to their level. They +triumph with impunity; they boast of their unpunished wickedness, and +think they are strong, and safe from all attacks, because they have the +prestige and the power of gold. And yet their hour is coming. I, the +wretched man, who have been compelled to hide, and to live on my daily +labor,--I have attained my end. Every thing is ready; and I have only to +touch the proud fabric of their crimes to make it come down upon them, +and crush them all under the ruins. Ah! if I could see them only suffer +one-fourth of what they have made me suffer, I should die content.” + +Papa Ravinet seemed to have grown a foot; his hatred convulsed his +placid face; his voice trembled with rage; and his yellow eyes shone +with ill-subdued passion. + +Daniel wondered, and asked himself what the people who had sworn to ruin +him and Henrietta could have done to this man, who looked so inoffensive +with his bright-flowered waistcoat and his coat with the high collar. + +“But who are you, sir?” he asked. + +“Who am I?” exclaimed the man,--“who am I?” + +But he paused; and, after waiting a little while, he sunk his head, and +said,-- + +“I am Anthony Ravinet, dealer in curiosities.” + +The clipper was in the meantime making way rapidly. Already the white +country houses appeared on the high bluffs amid the pine-groves; and the +outlines of the Castle of If were clearly penned on the deep blue of the +sky. + +“But we are getting near,” exclaimed Papa Ravinet; “and I must get back +into my boat. I did not come out so far, that they might see me enter on +board ‘The Saint Louis.’” + +And when Daniel offered him his state-room, where he might remain in +concealment, he replied,-- + +“No, no! We shall have time enough to come to an understanding about +what is to be done in Paris; and I must go back by rail to-night; I came +down for the sole purpose of telling you this. Miss Henrietta is at my +sister’s house; but you must take care not to come there. Neither +Sarah nor Brevan know what has become of her; they think she has thrown +herself into the river; and this conviction is our safety and our +strength. As they will most assuredly have you watched, the slightest +imprudence might betray us.” + +“But I must see Henrietta, sir.” + +“Certainly; and I have found the means for it. Instead of going to your +former lodgings, go to the Hotel du Louvre. I will see to it that my +sister and Miss Ville-Handry shall have taken rooms there before you +reach Paris; and you may be sure, that, in less than a quarter of an +hour after your arrival, you will hear news. But, heavens, how near we +are! I must make haste.” + +Upon Daniel’s request, the ship lay by long enough to allow Papa Ravinet +and his sailor to get back again into their boat without danger. When +they were safely stowed away in it, and at the moment when they cast off +the man-rope, Papa Ravinet called to Daniel,-- + +“We shall soon see you! Rely upon me! Tonight Miss Henrietta shall have +a telegram from us.” + + + + +XXVIII. + +At the same hour when Papa Ravinet, on the deck of “The Saint Louis,” + was pressing Daniel’s hand, and bidding him farewell, there were +in Paris two poor women, who prayed and watched with breathless +anxiety,--the sister of the old dealer, Mrs. Bertolle, the widow; and +Henrietta, the daughter of Count Ville-Handry. When Papa Ravinet had +appeared the evening before, with his carpet-bag in his hand, his hurry +had been so extraordinary, and his excitement so great, that one might +have doubted his sanity. He had peremptorily asked his sister for two +thousand francs; had made Henrietta write in all haste a letter of +introduction to Daniel; and had rushed out again like a tempest, as he +had come in, without saying more than this,-- + +“M. Champcey will arrive, or perhaps has already arrived, in Marseilles, +on board a merchant vessel, ‘The Saint Louis.’ I have been told so at +the navy department. It is all important that I should see him before +anybody else. I take the express train of quarter past seven. To-morrow, +I’ll send you a telegram.” + +The two ladies asked for something more, a hope, a word; but no, nothing +more! The old dealer had jumped into the carriage that had brought him, +before they had recovered from their surprise; and they remained there, +sitting before the fire, silent, their heads in their hands, each lost +in conjectures. When the clock struck seven, the good widow was aroused +from her grave thoughts, which seemed so different from her usual +cheerful temper. + +“Come, come, Miss Henrietta,” she said with somewhat forced gayety, “my +brother’s departure does not condemn us, as far as I know, to starve +ourselves to death.” + +She had gotten up as she said this. She set the table, and then sat down +opposite to Henrietta, to their modest dinner. Modest it was, indeed, +and still too abundant. They were both too much overcome to be able to +eat; and yet both handled knife and fork, trying to deceive one another. +Their thoughts were far away, in spite of all their efforts to keep them +at home, and followed the traveller. + +“Now he has left,” whispered Henrietta as it struck eight. + +“He is on his way already,” replied the old lady. + +But neither of them knew anything of the journey from Paris to +Marseilles. They were ignorant of the distances, the names of the +stations, and even of the large cities through which the railroad +passes. + +“We must try and get a railway guide,” said the good widow. And, quite +proud of her happy thought, she went out instantly, hurried to the +nearest bookstore, and soon reappeared, flourishing triumphantly a +yellow pamphlet, and saying,-- + +“Now we shall see it all, my dear child.” + +Then, placing the guide on the tablecloth between them, they looked for +the page containing the railway from Paris to Lyons and Marseilles, then +the train which Papa Ravinet was to have taken; and they delighted in +counting up how swiftly the “express” went, and all the stations where +it stopped. + +Then, when the table was cleared, instead of going industriously to +work, as usually, they kept constantly looking at the clock, and, after +consulting the book, said to each other,-- + +“He is at Montereau now; he must be beyond Sens; he will soon be at +Tonnerre.” + +A childish satisfaction, no doubt, and very idle. But who of us has +not, at least once in his life, derived a wonderful pleasure, or perhaps +unspeakable relief from impatience, or even grief, from following thus +across space a beloved one who was going away, or coming home? Towards +midnight, however, the old lady remarked that it was getting late, and +that it would be wise to go to bed. + +“You think you will sleep, madam?” asked Henrietta, surprised. + +“No, my child; but”-- + +“Oh! I, for my part,--_I_ could not sleep. This work on which we are +busy is very pressing, you say; why could we not finish it?” + +“Well, let us sit up then,” said the good widow. + +The poor women, reduced as they were to conjectures by Papa Ravinet’s +laconic answers, nevertheless knew full well that some great event was +in preparation, something unexpected, and yet decisive. What it was, +they did not know; but they understood, or rather felt, that Daniel’s +return would and must totally change the aspect of affairs. But would +Daniel really come? + +“If he does come,” said Henrietta, “why did they only the other day tell +me, at the navy department, that he was not coming? Then, again, why +should he come home in a merchant vessel, and not on board his frigate?” + +“Your letters have probably reached him at last,” explained the old +lady; “and, as soon as he received them, he came home.” + +Gradually, however, after having exhausted all conjectures, and after +having discussed all contingencies, Henrietta became silent. When it +struck half-past three, she said once more,-- + +“Ah! M. Ravinet is at the Lyons station now.” + +Then her hand became less and less active in drawing the worsted, her +head oscillated from side to side, and her eyelids closed unconsciously. +Her old friend advised her to retire; and this time she did not refuse. + +It was past ten o’clock when she awoke; and upon entering, fully +dressed, into the sitting-room, Mrs. Bertolle greeted her with the +exclamation:-- + +“At this moment my brother reaches Marseilles!” + +“Ah! then it will not be long before we shall have news,” replied +Henrietta. + +But there are moments in which we think electricity the slowest of +messengers. At two o’clock nothing had come; and the poor women began to +accuse the old dealer of having forgotten them, when, at last, the bell +was rung. + +It was really the telegraph messenger, with his black leather pouch. The +old lady signed her receipt with marvellous promptness; and, tearing the +envelope hastily open, she read,-- + + +Marseilles, 12.40 a.m. + +“Saint Louis” signalled by telegraph this morning. Will be in to-night. +I hire boat to go and meet her, provided Champcey is on board. This +evening telegram. + +Ravinet. + + +“But this does not tell us any thing,” said Henrietta, terribly +disappointed. “Just see, madam, _your_ brother is not even sure whether +M. Champcey is on board ‘The Saint Louis.’” + +Perhaps Mrs. Bertolle, also, was a little disappointed; but she was not +the person to let it be seen. + +“But what did you expect, dear child? Anthony has not been an hour in +Marseilles; how do you think he can know? We must wait till the evening. +It is only a matter of a few hours.” + +She said this very quietly; but all who have ever undergone the anguish +of expectation will know how it becomes more and more intolerable as the +moment approaches that is to bring the decision. However the old lady +endeavored to control her excitement, the calm and dignified woman could +not long conceal the nervous fever that was raging within her. Ten times +during the afternoon she opened the window, to look for--what? She could +not have told it herself, as she well knew nothing could come as yet. At +night she could not stay in any one place. She tried in vain to work on +her embroidery; her fingers refused their service. + +At last, at ten minutes past nine, the telegraph man appeared, as +impassive as ever. + +This time it was Henrietta who had taken the despatch; and, before +opening it, she had half a minute’s fearful suspense, as if the paper +had contained the secret of her fate. Then, by a sudden impulse, tearing +the envelope, she read, almost at a glance,-- + + +Marseilles, 6.45 p.m. + +I have seen Champcey. All well; devoted to Henrietta. Return this +evening. Will be in Paris tomorrow evening at seven o’clock. Prepare +your trunks as if you were to start on a month’s journey immediately +after my return. All is going well. + + +Pale as death, and trembling like a leaf, but with open lips and bright +eyes, Henrietta had sunk into a chair. Up to this moment she had doubted +every thing. Up to this hour, until she held the proof in her hand, she +had not allowed herself to hope. Such great happiness does not seem to +the unhappy to be intended for them. But now she stammered out,-- + +“Daniel is in France! Daniel! Nothing more to fear; the future is ours. +I am safe now.” + +But people do not die of joy; and, when she had recovered her +equanimity, Henrietta understood how cruel she had been in the +incoherent phrases that had escaped her in her excitement. She rose with +a start, and, seizing Mrs. Bertolle’s hands, said to her,-- + +“Great God! what am I saying! Ah, you will pardon me, madam, I am sure; +but I feel as if I did not know what I am doing. Safe! I owe it to you +and your brother, if I am safe. Without you Daniel would find nothing +of me but a cross at the cemetery, and a name stained and destroyed by +infamous calumnies.” + +The old lady did not hear a word. She had picked up the despatch, had +read it; and, overcome by its contents, had sat down near the fireplace, +utterly insensible to the outside world. The most fearful hatred +convulsed her ordinarily calm and gentle features; and pale, with closed +teeth, and in a hoarse voice, she said over and over again,-- + +“We shall be avenged.” + +Most assuredly Henrietta did not find out only now that the old dealer +and his sister hated her enemies, Sarah Brandon and Maxime de Brevan, +mortally; but she had never seen that hatred break out so terribly as +to-night. What had brought it about? This she could not fathom. Papa +Ravinet, it was evident, was not a nobody. Ill-bred and coarse in +Water Street, amid the thousand articles of his trade, he became a very +different man as soon as he reached his sister’s house. As to the Widow +Bertolle, she was evidently a woman of superior intellect and education. + +How had they both been reduced to this more than modest condition? By +reverses of fortune. That accounts for everything, but explains nothing. + +Such were Henrietta’s thoughts, when the old lady roused her from her +meditations. + +“You saw, my dear child,” she began saying, “that my brother desires us +to be ready to set out on a long journey as soon as he comes home.” + +“Yes, madam; and I am quite astonished.” + +“I understand; but, although I know no more than you do of my brother’s +intentions, I know that he does nothing without a purpose. We ought, +therefore, in prudence, comply with his wishes.” + +They agreed, therefore, at once on their arrangements; and the next +day Mrs. Bertolle went out to purchase whatever might be +necessary,--ready-made dresses for Henrietta, shoes, and linen. Towards +five o’clock in the afternoon, all the preparations of the old lady and +the young girl had been made; and all their things were carefully stowed +away in three large trunks. According to Papa Ravinet’s despatch, they +had only about two hours more to wait, three hours at the worst. Still +they were out of their reckoning. It was half-past eight before the good +man arrived, evidently broken down by the long and rapid journey which +he had just made. + +“At last!” exclaimed Mrs. Bertolle. “We hardly expected you any longer +to-night.” + +But he interrupted her, saying,-- + +“Oh, my dear sister! don’t you think I suffered when I thought of your +impatience? But it was absolutely necessary I should show myself in +Water Street.” + +“You have seen Mrs. Chevassat?” + +“I come from her just now. She is quite at her ease. I am sure she has +not the slightest doubt that Miss Ville-Handry has killed herself; and +she goes religiously every morning to the Morgue.” + +Henrietta shuddered. + +“And M. de Brevan?” she asked. + +Papa Ravinet looked troubled. + +“Ah, I don’t feel so safe there,” he replied. “The man I had left in +charge of him has foolishly lost sight of him.” + +Then noticing the trunks, he said,-- + +“But I am talking, and time flies. You are ready, I see. Let us go. I +have a carriage at the door. We can talk on the way.” + +When he noticed some reluctance in Henrietta’s face, he added with a +kindly smile,-- + +“You need not fear anything, Miss Henrietta; we are not going away from +M. Champcey, very far from it. Here, you see, he could not have come +twice without betraying the secret of your existence.” + +“But where are we going?” asked Mrs. Bertolle. + +“To the Hotel du Louvre, dear sister, where you will take rooms for Mrs. +and Miss Bertolle. Be calm; my plans are laid.” + +Thereupon, he ran out on the staircase to call the concierge to help him +in taking down the trunks. + +Although the manoeuvres required by Papa Ravinet’s appearance on board +“The Saint Louis” had taken but little time, the delay had been long +enough to prevent the ship from going through all the formalities that +same evening. She had, therefore, to drop anchor at some distance from +the harbor, to the great disgust of the crew, who saw Marseilles all +ablaze before them, and who could count the wineshops, and hear the +songs of the half-drunken people as they walked down the wharves in +merry bands. + +The least unhappy of them all was, for once, Daniel. The terrible +excitement he had undergone had given way to utter prostration. His +nerves, strained to the utmost, relaxed; and he felt the delight of a +man who can at last throw down a heavy burden which he has long borne +on his shoulders. Papa Ravinet had given him no details; but he did not +regret it, he hardly noticed it. He knew positively that his Henrietta +was alive; that she was in safety; and that she still loved him. That +was enough. + +“Well, lieutenant,” said Lefloch, delighted at his master’s joy, “did I +not tell you? Good wind during the passage always brings good news upon +landing.” + +That night, while “The Saint Louis” was rocking lazily over her anchors, +was the first night, since Daniel had heard of Count Ville-Handry’s +marriage, that he slept with that sweet sleep given by hope. He was only +aroused by the noise of the people who came in the quarantine boat; +and, when he came on deck, he found that there was nothing any longer to +prevent his going on shore. The men had been actively engaged ever since +early in the morning, to set things right aloft and below, so as to +“dress” “The Saint Louis;” for every ship, when it enters port, is +decked out gayly, and carefully conceals all traces of injuries she has +suffered, like the carrier-pigeon, which, upon returning to his nest +after a storm, dries and smooths his feathers in the sun. + +Soon the anchors were got up again; and the great clock on the wharf +struck twelve, when Daniel jumped on the wharf at Marseilles, followed +by his faithful man, and dazzled by the most brilliant sunlight. Ah! +when he felt his foot once more standing on the soil of France, whence +a vile plot had driven him long ago, his eyes flashed, and a threatening +gesture boded ill to his enemies. It looked as if he were saying to +them,-- + +“Here I am, and my vengeance will be terrible!” + +Neither his joy nor his excitement, however, could make him forget the +apprehensions of Papa Ravinet, although he thought they were eccentric, +and very much exaggerated. That a spy should be waiting for him in the +harbor, concealed in this busy, noisy crowd, to follow his track, and +report his minutest actions,--this seemed to him, if not impossible, at +least very improbable. + +Nevertheless, he determined to ascertain the fact. Instead, therefore, +of simply following the wharf, of going up Canebiere Street, and turning +to the right on his way to the Hotel du Luxembourg, he went through +several narrow streets, turning purposely every now and then. When he +reached the hotel, he was compelled to acknowledge that the old dealer +had acted wisely. + +A big fellow, dark complexioned, and wicked looking, had followed the +same route as he, always keeping some thirty yards behind him. The man +who thus watched him, with his nose in the air and his hands in his +pockets, hardly suspected the danger which he ran by practising his +profession within reach of Lefloch. The idea of being tracked put the +worthy sailor into a red-hot fury; and he proposed nothing less than to +“run foul” of the spy, and make an end of him for good. + +“I can do it in a second,” he assured his master. “I just go up to him, +without making him aware of my presence. _I_ seize him by his cravat; +I give him two turns, like that--and good-night. He won’t track anybody +again.” + +Daniel had to use all his authority to keep him back, and found it still +harder to convince him of the necessity to let the scamp not know that +he had been discovered. + +“Besides,” he added, “it is not proved yet that we are really watched; +it may be merely a curious coincidence.” + +“That may be so,” growled Lefloch. + +But they could no longer doubt, when, just before dinner, as they looked +out of the window, they saw the same man pass the hotel. At night they +saw him again at the depot; and he took the same express train of +9.45 for Paris, in which they went. They recognized him in the +refreshment-room at Lyons. And the first person they saw as they got out +at Paris was the same man. + +But Daniel did not mind the spy. He had long since forgotten him. He +thought of nothing but the one fact that he was in the same town now +with Henrietta. Too impatient to wait for his trunks, he left Lefloch +in charge, and jumped into a cab, promising the driver two dollars if he +would go as fast as he could to the Hotel du Louvre. For such pay, the +lean horses of any cab become equal to English thoroughbreds; and in +three-quarters of an hour Daniel was installed in his room at the hotel, +and waited with anxiety the return of the waiter. Now that he was really +here, a thousand doubts assailed him: “Had he understood Papa Ravinet +correctly? Had the good old man given him the right directions? Might +they not, excited as they both were, have easily made a mistake?” + +“In less than a quarter of an hour after your arrival,” Papa Ravinet had +said to Daniel, “you shall have news.” + +Less than a quarter of an hour! It seemed to Daniel as if he had been an +eternity in this room. Thinking that Henrietta might possibly occupy a +room on the same floor with him, on the same side of the house, that he +might even be separated from her only by a partition-wall, he felt like +cursing Papa Ravinet, when there came a knock at the door. + +“Come in!” he cried. + +A waiter appeared, and handed him a visiting-card, on which was written, +“Mrs. Bertolle, third story. No. 5.” + +As the waiter did not instantly disappear, Daniel said almost +furiously,-- + +“Did I not tell you it was all right?” + +He did not want the man to see his excitement, the most intense +excitement he had ever experienced in all his life. His hands shook; he +felt a burning sensation in his throat; his knees gave way under him. He +looked at himself in the glass, and was startled; he looked deadly pale. + +“Am I going to be ill?” he thought. + +On the table stood a carafe with water. He filled a large glass, and +drank it at one draught; this made him feel better, and he went out. +But, once outside, he was so overcome, that he lost his way in the long +passages and interminable staircases, in spite of the directions hung up +at every turn, and had finally to ask a waiter, who pointed out a door +which he had passed half a dozen times, and said,-- + +“That is No. 5.” + +He knocked gently, and the door opened instantly, as if somebody had +been standing behind it, ready to open it promptly. As he entered, he +tottered, and, almost in a mist, saw on his right side Papa Ravinet and +an old lady, then, farther back, near the window, Henrietta. + +He uttered a cry, and went forward. But as quickly she bounded to meet +him, casting both arms around his neck, and leaning upon his bosom, +sobbing and stammering,-- + +“Daniel, Daniel! At last!” + + + + +XXIX. + +It was exactly two years since Daniel and Henrietta had been parted +by the foulest treachery,--two years since that fatal evening when the +stupidly ironical voice of Count Ville-Handry had suddenly made itself +heard near them under the old trees of the garden of the palace. + +What had not happened since then? What unheard-of, most improbable +events; what trials, what tribulations, what sufferings! They had +endured all that the human heart can endure. There was not a day, so to +say, in these two years, that had not brought them its share of grief +and sorrow. How often both of them had despaired of the future! How many +times they had sighed for death! + +And yet, after all these storms, here they were reunited once more, in +unspeakable happiness, forgetting every thing,--their enemies and the +whole world, the anxieties of the past, and the uncertainty of the +future. + +They remained thus for a long time, holding each other closely, overcome +with happiness, unable, as yet, to believe in the reality for which they +had sighed so long, unable to utter a word, laughing and weeping in one +breath. + +Now and then they would move apart a little, throwing back the head in +order the better to look at each other; then swiftly they would fold +each other again closely in their arms, as if they were afraid they +might be separated anew. + +“How they love each other!” whispered Mrs. Bertolle in her brother’s +ear,--“the poor young people!” + +And big tears rolled down her cheeks, while the old dealer, not less +touched, but showing his emotion differently, closed his hands fiercely, +and said,-- + +“All right, all right! They will have to pay for everything.” + +Daniel, in the meantime, was recovering himself gradually; and reason +once more got the better of his feelings. He led Henrietta to an arm- +chair at the corner of the fireplace, and sitting down in front of her, +after having taken her hands in his own, he asked her to give him a +faithful account of the two terrible years that had just come to an end. + +She had to tell him everything,--her humiliations in her father’s house, +the insults she had endured, the wicked slanders by which her honor had +been tainted, the incomprehensible blindness of the count, the surly +provocations of her step-mother, the horrible attentions of Sir Thorn; +in fine, the whole abominable plot which had been formed, as she found +out too late, for the purpose of driving her to seek safety in flight, +and to give herself up to Maxime de Brevan. + +Trembling with rage, livid, his eyes bloodshot, Daniel suddenly let go +Henrietta’s hands, and exclaimed in a half-smothered voice,-- + +“Ah, Henrietta! your father deserved--Wretched old man! to abandon his +child to the mercy of such miserable wretches!” + +And, when the poor girl looked at him imploringly, he replied,-- + +“Be it so! I will say nothing more of the count. He is your father, and +that is enough.” + +Then he added coldly,-- + +“But that M. Thomas Elgin, I swear by God he shall die by my hand; and +as to Sarah Brandon”-- + +He was interrupted by the old dealer, who tapped him lightly on the +shoulder, and said with an indescribable smile,-- + +“You shall not do that honor to the Hon. M. Elgin, M. Champcey. People +like him do not die by the sword of honest men.” + +In the meantime Henrietta had resumed her history, and spoke of her +surprise and amazement when she reached that bare room in Water Street, +with its scanty second-hand furniture. + +“And yet, Henrietta,” here broke in Daniel, “I had handed that man all +my money to be placed at your disposal in case of any accident.” + +“What!” exclaimed the old dealer, “you had”-- + +He did not finish, but looked at the young officer with an utterly +amazed air, as if he were an improbable phenomenon, never seen before. + +Daniel shook his head sadly. + +“Yes,” he said, “I know it was an insane thing. But it was less insane +than to intrust my betrothed to his care. I believed in the friendship +of that man.” + +“And besides,” remarked Mrs. Bertolle, “how could you suppose such +atrocious treachery? There are crimes which honest hearts never even +conceive.” + +Henrietta continued, describing her sensations when she found herself +for the first time in her life harassed by want, destitution, hunger. +But, when she came to the disgusting ill-treatment she received at the +hands of the concierge’s wife, Daniel cried out,-- + +“Stop!” + +And, fearfully excited, he asked her,-- + +“Did I hear right? Did you say the concierge of that house in Water +Street, and his wife, were called Chevassat?” + +“Yes, why?” + +“Because Maxime de Brevan’s real name is Justin Chevassat.” + +Papa Ravinet started up as if he had been shot. + +“What,” he said, “you know that?” + +“I learned it three months ago. I also know that my friend, the +proud nobleman, Maxime de Brevan, who has been received in the most +aristocratic _salons_ of Paris, has been a galley-slave, condemned for +forgery.” + +Henrietta had risen, filled with terror. + +“Then,” she stammered, “this wretched man was”-- + +“Chevassat’s son; yes, madam,” replied Mrs. Bertolle. + +“Oh!” exclaimed the poor girl, “oh!” + +And she fell heavily back into her chair, overcome by this discovery. +The old dealer alone preserved his calm appearance. + +“How did you learn that?” he asked Daniel. + +“Through the man whom my friend Maxime had hired to murder me.” + +Positively this threatened to be too much for Henrietta’s mind. + +“Ah! I thought the mean coward would try to get you out of the way, +Daniel. I wrote to you to be careful.” + +“And I received your letter, my darling, but too late. After having +missed me twice, the assassin fired at me; and I was in my bed, a ball +in my chest, dying.” + +“What has become of the murderer?” asked Papa Ravinet. + +“He was arrested.” + +“Then he confessed?” + +“Yes, thanks to the astonishing cleverness of the magistrate who carried +on the investigation.” + +“What has become of him?” + +“He has left Saigon by this time. They have sent him home to be tried +here.” + +“And Brevan?” + +“I am surprised he has not yet been arrested. The papers in the case +were sent to Paris by a vessel which left a fortnight before I left. To +be sure, ‘The Saint Louis’ may have gotten ahead of her. At all events, +I have in my keeping a letter to the court.” + +Papa Ravinet seemed to be almost delirious with joy. He gesticulated +like a madman; he laughed nervously, and almost frightfully, till his +sides shook; and at last he said,-- + +“I shall see Brevan on the scaffold! Yes, I shall!” + +But from that moment there was an end of that logical order which the +old gentleman had so far kept up. As it always happens with people who +are under the influence of some passion, eager to learn what they do not +know, and little disposed to tell what they do know, confusion prevailed +soon. Questions crossed each other, and followed, without order or +connection. Answers came at haphazard. Each wanted to be heard; and +all were speaking at once. Thus the explanations, which, by a little +management, might have been given in twenty minutes, took them more than +two hours. + +At last, after the lapse of this time, and by dint of great efforts, it +became possible to ascertain the sum total of the information given by +Papa Ravinet, Daniel, and Henrietta. The truth began to show itself +in the midst of this chaos; and the plot of Sarah Brandon and her +accomplices appeared in all its hideous outlines. A plan of striking +simplicity, the success of which seemed to have hung upon a hair. If the +old dealer, instead of going down by the backstairs, had taken the front +staircase, he would never have heard Henrietta’s agony, and the poor +child would have been lost. + +If Crochard’s ball had been a few lines nearer the heart, Daniel would +have been killed. + +And still the old dealer was not quite satisfied. He hung his lip, and +winked with his yellow eyes, as if he wished it to be understood that +he was by no means fully convinced, and that there were certain points +which required fuller explanation. + +“Look here, M. Champcey,” he began at last, “the more I think of it, the +more _I_ am convinced that Sarah Brandon had nothing to do with these +attempts at assassination, which so nearly made an end of you. She is +too strong in her perversity to stoop to such coarse means, which always +leave traces behind, and finally lead to a court of justice. She always +acts alone, when her mind is made up; and her accomplices aid her only +unconsciously, so that they can never betray her.” + +Daniel had been thoughtful. + +“What you tell me,” he answered, “I was told before by M. de Brevan.” + +The old gentleman did not seem to hear him, so intensely did he apply +all the faculties of his mind to the problem before him. + +“Still,” he continued, “there is no doubt about the manner in which +Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, was employed. Could Brevan have done so +without Sarah’s knowledge, and perhaps even contrary to her wishes?” + +“That is quite possible; but then why should he have done so?” + +“To secure to himself the fortune which M. Champcey had so imprudently +intrusted to him,” said Henrietta. + +But Papa Ravinet shook his head, looking very wise, and said,-- + +“That is one explanation. I do not say no to it; but it is not the true +one yet. Murder is so dangerous an expedient, that even the boldest +criminals only resort to it in the last extremity, and generally very +much against their inclination. Could not Brevan have possessed himself +of M. Champcey’s property without a murder? Of course, he could. + +“Then we must look for another motive. You may say, it was fear which +drove him to it. No; for at the time when he engaged Crochard, he could +not foresee the atrocious outrages of which he would have become guilty +during the succeeding year. Believe my experience; I discern in the +whole affair a hurry and an awkwardness which betray a passion, a +violent hatred, or, perhaps”-- + +He stopped suddenly, and seemed to reflect and deliberate, while he was +mechanically stroking his chin. Then all of a sudden, looking strangely +at Daniel, he asked him,-- + +“Could the Countess Sarah be in love with you, M. Champcey?” + +Daniel’s face turned crimson. He had not forgotten that fatal evening, +when, in the house in Circus Street, he had held Sarah Brandon in his +arms; and the intoxicating delirium of that moment had left in his heart +a bitter and undying pang of remorse. He had never dared confess to +Henrietta that Sarah had actually come to his rooms alone. And even +to-night, while giving very fully all the details of his passage out, +and his residence in Saigon, he had not said a word of the letters which +had been addressed to him by the countess. + +“Sarah Brandon in love with me?” he stammered. “What an idea!” + +But he could not tell a falsehood; and Henrietta would not have been a +woman, if she had not noticed his embarrassment. + +“Why not?” she asked. + +And, looking fixedly at Daniel, she went on,-- + +“That wretched woman impudently boasted to my face that she loved you; +more than that, she swore that you, also, had loved her, and were still +in love with her. She laughed at me contemptuously, telling me that she +had it in her power to make you do anything she chose, and offering to +show me your letters”-- + +She paused a moment, turned her head aside, and said with a visible +effort,-- + +“Finally, M. Thomas Elgin assured me that Sarah Brandon had been your +mistress, and that the marriage with my father took place only in +consequence of a quarrel between you.” + +Daniel had listened to her, trembling with indignation. He now cried +out,-- + +“And you could believe these false calumnies! Oh, no, no! tell me that +there is no need for me to justify myself to”-- + +Then turning to Papa Ravinet, he said,-- + +“Suppose, we admit, for a moment, that she might have been in love, as +you say, what would that prove?” + +The cunning old dealer remained apparently unmoved for a time; but his +small eyes were sparkling with malicious delight and satisfaction. + +“Ah! you would not talk so, if you knew Sarah Brandon’s antecedents as +well as I do. Ask my sister about her and Maxime de Brevan, and she will +tell you why I look upon that apparently trifling circumstance as so +very important.” + +Mrs. Bertolle made a sign that she assented; and he, sure, henceforth, +that his sagacity had not been at fault, continued,-- + +“Pardon me, M. Champcey, if I insist, and especially if I do so in Miss +Henrietta’s presence; but our interest, I might almost say our safety, +requires it. Maxime de Brevan is caught, to be sure; but he is only a +vulgar criminal; and we have, as yet, neither Thomas Elgin, nor Mrs. +Brian, who are far more formidable, nor, above all, Sarah Brandon, who +is a thousand times more wicked, and more guilty, than all the rest. You +will tell me that we have ninety-nine chances out of a hundred on +our side; maybe! Only a single, slight mistake may lead us altogether +astray; and then there is an end to all our hopes, and these rascals +triumph after all!” + +He was but too right. Daniel felt it; and hence he said, without +hesitating any longer, but looking stealthily at Henrietta’s face,-- + +“Since that is so, I will not conceal from you that the Countess Sarah +has written me a dozen letters of at least extraordinary nature.” + +“You have kept them, I hope?” + +“Yes; they are all in one of my trunks.” + +Papa Ravinet was evidently much embarrassed; but at last he said,-- + +“Ah! if I might dare? But no; it would be asking too much, perhaps, to +beg you to let me see them?” + +He did not know how ready Daniel was to grant the request. Ready as he +was, to tell Henrietta everything, he could not but wish that she should +read these letters, as she would see from them, that, if the countess +had written to him, he had never returned an answer. + +“You can never ask too much, M. Ravinet,” he replied. “Lefloch, my +servant, must have come up by this time with the trunks; and, if you +give me time to go down to my room, you shall have the letters at once.” + +He was on the point of leaving the room, when the old dealer held him +back, and said,-- + +“Sir, you forget the man who has been following you all the way from +Marseilles. Wait till my sister has made sure that there is nobody +watching you.” + +Mrs. Bertolle at once went out; but she noticed nothing suspicious, and +found all the passages silent and deserted. The spy had probably gone to +make his report to his employers. Daniel went down promptly; and, when +he came back, he held in his hand a bundle of faded and crumpled papers, +which he handed to Papa Ravinet, with the words,-- + +“Here they are!” + +Strange as it may seem, when the old gentleman touched these letters, +impregnated with the peculiar perfume affected by Sarah Brandon, he +trembled and turned pale. Immediately, however, perhaps in order to +conceal his embarrassment, or to be the better able to reflect, he took +a candlestick from the mantlepiece, and sat down aside, at one of the +small tables. Mrs. Bertolle, Daniel, and Henrietta were silent; and +nothing broke the stillness but the rustling of the paper, and the old +gentleman’s voice as he muttered,-- + +“This is fabulous,--Sarah writing such things! She did not even disguise +her handwriting,--she who never committed an imprudence in her life; she +ruins herself. And she signs her name!” + +But he had seen enough. He folded up the letters, and, rising again, +said to Champcey,-- + +“No doubt now! Sarah loves you madly, insanely. Ah! how she does love! +Well, well, all heartless women love thus when a sudden passion conquers +them, setting their brains and their senses on fire, and”-- + +Daniel noticed in Henrietta’s face a sign of concern; and, quite +distressed, he beckoned to the old gentleman to say nothing more. But he +saw nothing, full as he was of his notion, and went on,-- + +“Now I understand. Sarah Brandon has not been able to keep her secret; +and Brevan, seeing her love, and furious with jealousy, did not consider +that to hire an assassin was to ruin himself.” + +The indignation he felt had restored the blood to his face; and, as he +struck the packet of letters with the palm of his hand, he exclaimed,-- + +“Yes, all is clear now; and by this correspondence, Sarah Brandon, you +are ours!” + +What could be the plan of Papa Ravinet? Did he expect to use these +letters as weapons against her? or did he propose to send them to Count +Ville-Handry in order to open his eyes? Daniel trembled at the idea; for +his loyalty rebelled against such a vengeance; he felt as if he would +have become a traitor. + +“You see, to use a woman’s correspondence, however odious and +contemptible she may be, would always be very repugnant to me.” + +“I had no idea of asking such a thing of you,” replied the old dealer. +“No; it is something very different I want you to do.” + +And, when Daniel still seemed to be embarrassed, he added,-- + +“You ought not to give way to such exaggerated delicacy, M. Champcey. +All weapons are fair when we are called upon to defend our lives and our +honor against rascals; and that is where we are. If we do not hasten to +strike Sarah Brandon, she will anticipate us; and then”-- + +He had been leaning against the mantlepiece, close to Mrs. Bertolle, who +sat there silent and immovable; and now he raised his head, and, looking +attentively at Henrietta and Daniel by turns, he added,-- + +“Perhaps you are both not exactly conscious of the position in which you +stand. Having been reunited to-night, after such terrible trials, and +having, both of you, escaped, almost by a miracle, from death, you feel, +no doubt, as if all trouble was at an end, and the future was yours. I +must undeceive you. You are precisely where you were the day before M. +Champcey left France. You cannot any more now than at that time marry +without Count Ville-Handry’s consent. Will he give it? You know very +well that the Countess Sarah will not let him. Will you defy prejudices, +and proudly avow your love? Ah, have a care! If you sin against social +conventionalities, you risk your whole happiness of life. Will you hide +yourself, on the other hand? However careful you may be, the world will +find you out; and fools and hypocrites will overwhelm you with slander. +And Miss Henrietta has been too much calumniated already.” + +To soar in the azure air, and suddenly to fall back into the mud on +earth; to indulge in the sweetest of dreams, and all at once to be +recalled to stern reality,--this is what Daniel and Henrietta endured at +that moment. The calm, collected voice of the old dealer sounded cruel +to them. Still he was but a sincere friend, who did his painful duty in +awakening them from such deceptive illusions. + +“Now,” he went on, “mind that I take everything at the best; and even +suppose the case, that Count Ville-Handry leaves his daughter free +to choose: would that be enough? Evidently not; for the moment Sarah +Brandon hears that Miss Henrietta has not committed suicide, but +is, instead, at the Hotel du Louvre, within easy reach of M. Daniel +Champcey, she will prevail on her husband to shut his daughter up in a +convent. For another year, Miss Henrietta is yet under paternal control; +that is, in this case, at the mercy of a revengeful step-mother, who +looks upon her as a successful rival.” + +At this idea, that Henrietta might be once more taken from him, Daniel +felt his blood chill off in his veins; and he exclaimed,-- + +“Ah, and I never dreamed of any of these things! I was mad! Joy had +blinded my eyes completely.” + +But the old gentleman beckoned to him to say nothing, and with an almost +imperious gesture went on,-- + +“Oh, wait! I have not yet shown you the most urgent danger: Count +Ville-Handry, who, when you knew him, had, I know not how many millions, +is completely ruined. Of all he once owned, of his lands, forests, +castles, deeds, and bonds, there is nothing left. His last cent, his +last rod of land, has been taken from him. You left him living like a +prince in his forefathers’ palace: you will find him vegetating in +the fourth story of a lodging-house. You know, that, being poor, he is +deemed guilty. The day is drawing near when Sarah Brandon will get rid +of him, as she has gotten rid of Kergrist, of Malgat the poor +cashier, and others. The means are at hand. Already the name of +Count Ville-Handry is seriously compromised. The company which he has +established is breaking to pieces; and the papers hold him up to public +contempt. If he cannot pay to-day, he will be to-morrow accused of +fraudulent bankruptcy. Now, I ask you, is the count a man who will +survive such a disgrace?” + +For some time Henrietta had been unable to suppress her sobs; under this +terrible threat she broke out in loud weeping. + +“Ah, sir!” she said, “you have misled me. You assured me that my +father’s life was in no danger.” + +“And I promise you still, it is not in danger. Would I be here, if I did +not think that Sarah was not quite ready yet?” + +Daniel, also, had suffered terribly during this discussion; and he now +said passionately,-- + +“Would it not be a crime for us to think, to wait, and to calculate, +when such great dangers are impending? Come, sir, let us go”-- + +“Where?” + +“Ah, how do I know? Into court, to the count, to a lawyer who can advise +us. There must be something that can be done.” + +The old dealer did not stir. + +“Poor, honest young man!” he said with an accent of bitter irony. “And +what could we tell the lawyer? That Sarah Brandon has made an old man, +the Count Ville-Handry, fall madly in love with her? That is no crime. +That she has made him marry her? That was her right. That the count +has launched forth in speculations? She opposed it. That he understood +nothing of business? She could not help that. That he has been duped, +cheated, and finally ruined in two short years? Apparently she is as +much ruined as he is. That, in order to delay the catastrophe, he has +resorted to illegal means? She is sorry for it. That he will not survive +the taint on his ancient name? What can she do? Sarah, who was able to +clear herself the day after Malgat’s disappearance, will not be at a +loss now to establish her innocence.” + +“But the count, sir, the count! Can we not go to him?” + +“Count Ville-Handry would say to you--But you shall hear to-morrow what +he will tell you.” + +Daniel began to feel utterly dismayed. + +“What can be done, then?” he asked. + +“We must wait till we have sufficient evidence in hand to crush at one +blow Sarah Brandon, Thorn, and Mrs. Brian.” + +“Well; but how shall we get such evidence?” + +The old gentleman cast a look of intelligence at his sister, smiled, and +said with a strange accent in his voice,-- + +“I have collected some. As to the rest”-- + +“Well?” + +“Well, my dear M. Champcey, I am no longer troubled about getting more, +since I have found out that the Countess Sarah is in love with you.” + +Now Daniel began to understand the part Papa Ravinet expected him to +play. Still he did not object; he bowed his head under the clear eye of +Henrietta, and said in a low voice,-- + +“I will do what you wish me to do, sir.” + +The old gentleman uttered a low cry of delight, as if he had been +relieved of an overwhelming anxiety. + +“Then,” he said, “we will begin the campaign tomorrow morning. But we +must know exactly who the enemies are whom we have to meet. Listen, +therefore!” + + + + +XXX. + +It struck midnight; but the poor people in the little parlor in the +Hotel du Louvre hardly thought of sleep. How could they have become +aware of the flight of time, as long as all their faculties were bent +upon the immense interests that were at stake? On the struggle which +they were about to undertake depended Count Ville-Handry’s life and +honor, and the happiness and whole future life of Daniel and Henrietta. + +And Papa Ravinet and his sister had said,--“As for us, even more than +that depends upon it.” The old dealer, therefore, drew up an easy- +chair, sat down, and began in a somewhat husky voice,-- + +“The Countess Sarah is not Sarah Brandon, and is not an American. Her +real name, by which she was known up to her sixteenth year, is Ernestine +Bergot; and she was born in Paris, in the suburb of Saint Martin, just +on the line of the corporation. To tell you in detail what the first +years of Sarah were like would be difficult indeed. There are things of +that kind which do not bear being mentioned. Her childhood might be her +excuse, if she could be excused at all. + +“Her mother was one of those unfortunate women of whom Paris devours +every year several thousands; who come from the provinces in wooden +shoes, and are seen, six months later, dressed in all the fashion; and +who live a short, gay life, which invariably ends in the hospital. + +“Her mother was neither better nor worse than the rest. When her +daughter came, she had neither the sense to part with her, nor the +courage--perhaps (who knows?) she had not the means--to mend her ways. +Thus the little one grew up by God’s mercy, but at the Devil’s bidding, +living by chance, now stuffed with sweet things, and now half-killed by +blows, fed by the charity of neighbors, while her mother remained for +weeks absent from her lodgings. + +“Four years old, she wandered through the neighborhood dressed in +fragments of silk or velvet, with a faded ribbon in her hair, but +with bare feet in her torn shoes, hoarse, and shivering with severe +colds,--very much after the fashion of lost dogs, who rove around +open-air cooking-shops,--and looking in the gutters for cents with which +to buy fried potatoes or spoilt fruit. + +“At a later time she extended the circle of her excursions, and wandered +all over Paris, in company of other children like herself, stopping +on the boulevards, before the brilliant shops or performing jugglers, +trying to learn how to steal from open stalls, and at night asking in a +plaintive voice for alms in behalf of her poor sick father. When twelve +years old she was as thin as a plank, and as green as a June apple, with +sharp elbows and long red hands. But she had beautiful light hair, teeth +like a young dog’s, and large, impudent eyes. Merely upon seeing her go +along, her head high with an air of saucy indifference, coquettish under +her rags, and walking with elastic steps, you would have guessed in +her the young Parisian girl, the sister of the poor ‘gamin,’ a thousand +times more wicked than her brothers, and far more dangerous to society. +She was as depraved as the worst of sinners, fearing neither God nor the +Devil, nor man, nor anything. + +“However, she did fear the police. + +“For from them she derived the only notions of morality she ever +possessed; otherwise, it would have been love’s labor lost to talk to +her of virtue or of duty. These words would have conveyed no meaning +to her imagination; she knew no more about them than about the abstract +ideas which they represent. + +“One day, however, her mother, who had virtually made a servant of her, +had a praiseworthy inspiration. Finding that she had some money, she +dressed her anew from head to foot, bought her a kind of outfit, and +bound her as an apprentice to a dressmaker. + +“But it came too late. + +“Every kind of restraint was naturally intolerable to such a vagabond +nature. The order and the regularity of the house in which she lived +were a horror to her. To sit still all day long, a needle in her hand, +appeared to her harder than death itself. The very comforts around her +embarrassed her, and she felt as a savage would feel in tight boots. At +the end of the first week, therefore, she ran away from the dressmaker, +stealing a hundred francs. As long as these lasted, she roved over +Paris. When they were spent, and she was hungry, she came back to her +mother. + +“But her mother had moved away, and no one knew what had become of her. +She was inquired after, but never found. Any other person would have +been in despair. Not she. The same day she entered as waiter in a +cheap coffee-house. Turned out there, she found employment in a low +restaurant, where she had to wash up the dishes and plates. Sent away +here, also, she became a servant in two or three other places of still +lower character; then, at last, utterly disgusted, she determined to do +nothing at all. + +“She was sinking into the gutter, she was on the point of being lost +before she had reached womanhood, like fruit which spoils before it is +ripe, when a man turned up who was fated to arm her for life’s Struggle, +and to change the vulgar thief into the accomplished monster of +perversity whom you know.” + +Here Papa Ravinet suddenly paused, and, looking at Daniel, said,-- + +“You must not believe, M. Champcey, that these details are imaginary. +I have spent five years of my life in tracing out Sarah’s early +life,--five years, during which I have been going from door to door, +ever in search of information. A dealer in second-hand goods enters +everywhere without exciting suspicion. And then I have witnesses to +prove everything I have told you so far,--witnesses whom I shall summon, +and who will speak whenever the necessity arises to establish the +identity of the Countess Sarah.” + +Daniel made no reply. + +Like Henrietta, even like Mrs. Bertolle, at this moment he was +completely fascinated by the old gentleman’s manner and tone. The +latter, after having rested for a few minutes, went on,-- + +“The man who picked up Sarah was an old German artist, painter and +musician both, of rare genius, but a maniac, as they called him. At all +events, he was a good, an excellent man. + +“One winter morning, as he was at work in his studio, he was struck by +the strange ring in a woman’s voice, which recited in the court-yard +below a popular song. He went to the window, and beckoned the singer to +come up. It was Sarah; and she came. The good German used often to speak +of the deep compassion which seized him as he saw this tall girl of +fourteen come into his studio,--a child, stained by vice already, thin +like hunger itself, and shivering in her thin calico dress. But he was +at the same time almost dazzled by the rich promises of beauty in her +face, the pure notes of her superb voice, which had withstood so far, +and the surprising intelligence beaming in her features. + +“He guessed what there was in her; he saw her, in his mind’s eye, such +as she was to be at twenty. + +“Then he asked her how she had come to be reduced to such misery, who +she was, where her parents lived, and what they did for a living. When +she had told him that she stood quite alone, and was dependent on no +one, he said to her,-- + +“‘Well, if you will stay with me, I will adopt you; you shall be my +daughter; and I will make you an eminent artist.’ + +“The studio was warm, and it was bitterly cold outside. Sarah had no +roof over her head, and had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours. She +accepted. + +“She accepted, be it understood, not doubting, in her perversity, but +that this kind old man had other intentions besides those he mentioned +in offering her a home. She was mistaken. He recognized in her +marvellous talents, and thought of nothing but of making of her a true +marvel, which should astonish the world. He devoted himself heart and +soul to his new favorite, with all the enthusiastic ardor of an artist, +and all the jealous passion of an amateur. + +“It was a hard task, however, which he had undertaken. Sarah could not +even read. She knew nothing, except sin. + +“How the old German went to work to keep this untamable vagabond at +home, how he made her bend to his will, and submit to his lessons, no +one will ever be able to tell. It was long a problem for me also. Some +of the neighbors told me that he treated her harshly, beating her often +brutally; but neither threats nor blows were apt to make an impression +on Sarah Brandon. A friend of the old man’s thought he had guessed the +riddle: he thought the old artist had succeeded in arousing Sarah’s +pride. He had kindled in her a boundless ambition and the most +passionate covetousness. He intoxicated her with fairylike hopes. + +“‘Follow my counsels,’ he used to say to her, ‘and at twenty you will be +a queen,--a queen of beauty, of wit, and of genius. Study, and the +day will come when you will travel through Europe, a renowned artist, +welcomed in every capital, _feted_ everywhere, honored, and glorified. +Work, and wealth will come with fame,--immense, boundless wealth, +surpassing all your dreams. You will have the finest carriages, the most +magnificent diamonds; you will draw from inexhaustible purses; the whole +world will be at your feet; and the women will turn pale with envy and +jealousy when they see you. Among men there will be none so noble, none +so great, none so rich, but he will beg for one of your looks; and they +will fight for one of your smiles. Only work and study!’ + +“At all events, Sarah did work, and studied with a steady perseverance +which spoke of her faith in the promises of her old master, and of the +influence he had obtained over her through her vanity. At first she +had been deterred by the extreme difficulties which beset so late +a beginning; but her amazing natural gifts had soon begun to show +themselves, and in a short time her progress was almost miraculous. + +“It is true that her innate sagacity had made her soon find out how +ignorant she was of the world. She saw that society did not exclusively +consist, as she had heretofore imagined, of people like those she had +known. She felt, for instance, what she had never suspected before, that +her unfortunate mother, with all her friends and companions, were only +the rare exceptions, laid under the ban by the immense majority. + +“At last she actually learned to know the tree of good fruit, after +having for so many years known only the tree of forbidden fruit. She +listened with eager curiosity to all the old artist had to tell her. And +he knew much; for the eccentric old man had travelled for a long time +over the world, and observed man on every step of the social ladder. He +had been a favorite artist at the court of Vienna; he had had several +of his operas brought out in Italy; and he had been admitted to the best +society in Paris. At night, therefore, while sipping his coffee, his +feet on the andirons, and his long pipe in his mouth, he would soon +forget himself amid the recollections of his youth. He described to her +the splendor of courts, the beauty of women, the magnificence of their +toilets, and the intrigues which he had seen going on around him. He +spoke to her of the men whose portraits he had painted, of the manners +and the jealousies behind the stage, and of the great singers who had +sung in his operas. + +“Thus it came about, that, two years later, no one would have recognized +the lean, wretched-looking vagabond of the suburbs in this fresh, rosy +girl, with the lustrous eyes and the modest mien, whom they called in +the house the ‘pretty artist in the fifth story.’ + +“And yet the change was only on the surface. + +“Sarah was already too thoroughly corrupted, when the good German picked +her up, to be capable of being entirely changed. He thought he had +infused his own rough honesty into her veins: he had only taught her a +new vice,--hypocrisy. + +“The soul remained corrupt; and all the charms with which it was +outwardly adorned became only so many base allurements, like those +beautiful flowers which unfold their splendor on the surface of +bottomless swamps, and thus lead those whom they attract to miserable +death. + +“At that time, however, Sarah did not yet possess that marvellous +self-control which became one of her great charms hereafter; and at the +end of two years she could endure this peaceful atmosphere no longer; +she grew homesick after sin. + +“As she was already a very fair musician, and her voice, trained by +a great master, possessed amazing power, she urged her old teacher to +procure her an engagement at one of the theatres. He refused in a manner +which made it clear to her that he would never change his mind on that +subject. He wanted to secure to his pupil one of those debuts which are +an apotheosis; and he had decided, as he told her, that she should not +appear in public till she had reached the full perfection of her voice +and her talent,--certainly not before her nineteenth or twentieth year. + +“That meant she should wait three or four years longer,--a century! + +“In former days Sarah would not have hesitated a moment; she would have +run away. + +“But education had changed her ideas. She was quite able now to reflect +and to calculate. She asked herself where she could go, alone, without +money, without friends, and what she should do, and what would become of +her. + +“She knew what destitution meant, and she was afraid of it now. + +“When she thought of the life her mother had led,--a long series of +nights spent in orgies, and of days without bread; that life of distress +and disgrace, when she depended on the whims of a good-for-nothing, or +the suspicions of a police constable,--Sarah felt the cold perspiration +break out on her temples. + +“She wanted her liberty; but she did not want it without money. Vice +attracted her irresistibly; but it was gorgeous vice, seated in a +carriage, and bespattering with mud the poor, honest women who had to +walk on foot, while it was envied by the crowd, and worshipped by the +foolish. She remained, therefore, and studied hard. + +“Perhaps, in spite of everything, in spite of herself and her execrable +instincts, Sarah might have become a great artist, if the old German had +not been taken from her by a terrible accident. + +“One fine afternoon in April, in the beginning of spring, he was smoking +his pipe at the window, when he heard a noise in the street, and leaned +over to see. + +“The bar broke,--he tried in vain to hold on to the window-frame,--and +the next moment he fell from the fifth story to the ground, and was +killed instantly. + +“I have held in my own hands the police report of the accident. It +states that the fall was unavoidable; and that, if no such calamity had +occurred before, this was due to the simple fact, that, during the bad +weather, nobody had thought of looking out of the window. The castings +of the little railing in front were found to be broken in two places, +and so long ago, that a thick layer of rust had filled up the cracks. +The wooden part had become perfectly loose, as the mortar that +originally had kept it in place had been apparently eaten away by the +winter frosts.” + +Daniel and Henrietta had turned very pale. It was evident that the same +terrible suspicion had flashed upon their mind. + +“Ah! it was Sarah’s work,” they exclaimed simultaneously. “It was Sarah +who had broken the bar, and loosened the wooden rods; she had, no doubt, +been watching for months to see her benefactor fall and kill himself.” + +Papa Ravinet shook his head. + +“I do not say that,” he said; “and, at all events, it would be +impossible to prove it at this time,--I mean, to prove it against her +denial. It is certain that no one suspected Sarah. She seemed to be in +despair; and everybody pitied her sincerely. Was she not ruined by this +misfortune? + +“The old artist had left no will. His relatives, of whom several lived +in Paris, rushed to his rooms; and their first act was to dismiss Sarah, +after having searched her trunks, and after giving her to understand +that she ought to be very grateful if she was allowed to take away all +she said she owed to the munificence of her late patron. + +“Still the inheritance was by no means what the heirs had expected. +Knowing that the deceased had had ample means, and how simply he had +always lived, they expected to find in his bureau considerable savings. +There was nothing. A single bond for less than two thousand dollars, and +a small sum in cash, were all that was found. + +“Ah! I have long endeavored to find out what had become of the various +bonds and the ready money of the old artist; for everybody who had known +him agreed that there must be some. Do you know what I discovered by +dint of indefatigable investigations? I procured leave to examine the +books of the savings-bank in which he invested his earnings for the year +of his death; and I found there, that on the 17th of April, that is, +five days before the poor German’s fall, a certain Ernestine Bergot had +deposited a sum of fifteen hundred francs.” + +“Ah, you see!” exclaimed Daniel. “Weary of the simple life with the old +man, she murdered him in order to get hold of his money.” + +But the old gentleman continued, as if he had heard nothing,-- + +“What Sarah did during the three first months of her freedom, I cannot +tell. If she went and rented furnished lodgings, she did it under a +false name. A clerk in the mayor’s office, who is a great lover of +curiosities, and for whom I have procured many a good bargain, had +all the lists of lodging-houses for the four months from April to July +carefully examined; but no Ernestine Bergot could be found. + +“I am quite sure, however, that she thought of the stage. One of +the former secretaries of the Lyric Theatre told me he recollected +distinctly a certain Ernestine, beautiful beyond description, who, came +several times, and requested a trial. She was, however, refused, simply +because her pretensions were almost ridiculous. And this was quite +natural; for her head was still full of all the ambitious dreams of the +old artist. + +“The first positive trace I find of Sarah in that year appears towards +the end of summer. She was then living in a fashionable street with +a young painter full of talent, and very rich, called Planix. Did she +really love him? The friends of the unfortunate young man were sure she +did not. But he--he worshipped her; he loved her passionately, madly, +and was so absurdly jealous, that he became desperate if she stayed out +an hour longer than he expected. Hence she often complained of his love, +which restrained her cherished liberty; and still she bore it patiently +till fate threw in her way Maxime de Brevan.” + +At the name of the wretch who had been so bent upon ruining them both, +and who had been so nearly successful, Henrietta and Daniel trembled, +and looked at each other. But Papa Ravinet did not give them, time to +ask any questions, and continued, as calmly as if he had been reading a +report,-- + +“It was several years before this, that Justin Chevassat, released from +the galleys, had made a nobleman of himself, and claimed before all the +world to be Maxime de Brevan. We need not be surprised, in this age of +ours, where impudence takes the place of everything else, that he should +have promptly succeeded in making his way into high life, and in being +admitted to many houses which were considered more or less exclusive. +In a society which seems to have adopted for its motto the words +‘Toleration and Discretion,’ and where, consequently, anybody is +admitted without question, Justin Chevassat very naturally had a great +success. He had carefully prepared his way, like those adventurers who +never appear abroad without having their passports in much better order +than most honest travellers. He had learned prudence by experience; for +his antecedents were stormy enough, though less so than Sarah’s. + +“Justin’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Chevassat, now concierges of No. 23 +Water Street, were, some thirty-eight or forty years ago, living in the +upper part of the suburb of Saint Honore. They had a very modest little +shop, partly restaurant, partly bar: their customers were generally the +servants of the neighborhood. They were people of easy principles and +loose morals,--as there are so many in our day,--honest enough as long +as there is nothing to be gained by being otherwise. As their trade +prospered, they were not dishonest; and, when any of their customers +forgot their portemonnaies at the shop, they always returned them. The +husband was twenty-four, and the wife nineteen years old, when, to their +great joy, a son was born. There was rejoicing in the shop; and the +child was christened Justin, in honor of his godfather, who was no less +a personage than the valet of the Marquis de Brevan. + +“But to have a son is a small matter. To bring him up till he is +seven or eight years old, is nothing. The difficulty is to give him an +education which shall secure him a position in the world. This thought +now began to occupy the minds of his parents incessantly. These stupid +people, who had a business which supported them handsomely, and enabled +them, in the course of time, to amass a small fortune, did not see that +the best thing they could have done would have been to enlarge it, and +to leave it to their son. But no. They vowed they would sacrifice all +their savings, and deprive themselves even of the necessaries of life, +in order that their Justin might become a ‘gentleman.’ + +“And what a gentleman! The mother dreamed of him as a rich broker, or, +at the very least, a notary’s first clerk. The father preferred seeing +him a government official, holding one of those much-coveted places, +which give the owner, after twenty-five years’ service, a title, and an +income of some six or seven hundred dollars. + +“The result of all these speculations was, that, at the age of nine, +Master Justin was sent to a high school. He conducted himself there just +badly enough to be perpetually on the brink of being sent away, without +ever being really expelled. This made but little impression upon the two +Chevassats. They had become so accustomed to look upon their son as a +superior being, that it never entered their mind to think he was not the +first, the best, and the most remarkable pupil of the establishment. If +Justin’s reports were bad,--and they were always bad,--they accused +the teachers of partiality. If he gained no prize at the end of the +year,--and he never got any,--they did not know what to do for him to +console him for having been victimized by such cruel injustice. + +“The consequences of such a system need hardly be stated. + +“When Justin was fourteen years old, he despised his parents thoroughly, +treated them like servants, and was so much ashamed of them, that he +would not allow his mother to come and see him in the parlor of the +college to which he had been admitted of late. When he was at home +during vacations, he would have cut his right arm off rather than help +his father, or pour out a glass of wine for a customer. He even stayed +away from the house on the plea that he could not endure the odors from +the kitchen. + +“Thus he reached his seventeenth year. His course was not completed; +but, as he was tired of college-life, he declared he would not return +there, and he never did return. When his father asked him timidly what +he proposed doing, he shrugged his shoulders as his sole reply. What did +he do? Nothing. He idled about Paris. + +“To dress in the height of fashion; to walk up and down before the most +renowned restaurants, with a toothpick in his mouth; to hire a carriage, +and drive it himself, having a hired groom in livery by his side,--this +was the delight of those days. At night he gambled; and, when he lost, +there was the till in his father’s shop. + +“His parents had rented for him, and comfortably furnished, a nice set +of rooms in their house, and tried by all manner of servility to keep +him at home, neglecting even their own business in order to be always +ready for his orders. But this did not prevent him from being constantly +away. He said he could not possibly receive his friends in a house where +his name was to be seen on the signboard of such a low establishment. + +“It was his despair to be the son of a restaurant-keeper, and to be +called Chevassat. + +“But greater grief was to come to him after two years’ idle and +expensive life such as has been described. + +“One fine morning when he needed a couple of hundred dollars, his +parents told him, with tears in their eyes, that they had not twenty +dollars in the house; that they were at the end of their resources; that +the day before a note of theirs had been protested; and that they were +at that moment on the brink of bankruptcy. They did not reproach Justin +with having spent all their savings; oh, no! On the contrary, they +humbly asked his pardon, if they were no longer able to provide for his +wants. And, with fear and trembling, they at last ventured to suggest, +that perhaps it would be well if he should seek some kind of work. + +“He told them coolly that he would think it over, but that he must have +his two hundred dollars. And he got them. His father and mother had +still a watch and some jewelry; they pawned everything and brought him +the proceeds. + +“Still he saw that the till he had considered inexhaustible was really +empty, and that henceforth his pockets also would be empty, unless he +could devise some means to fill them. He went, therefore, in search of +some employment; and his godfather, the valet, found one for him at the +house of a banker, who was in want of a reliable young man to be trained +for his business, and hereafter to be intrusted with the management of +his funds.” + +Papa Ravinet’s voice changed so perceptibly as he uttered these last +words, that Daniel and Henrietta, with one impulse, asked him,-- + +“Is anything the matter, sir?” + +He did not make any reply; but his sister, Mrs. Bertolle, said,-- + +“No, there is nothing the matter with my brother;” and she looked at him +with a nod of encouragement. + +“I am all right,” he said, like an echo. Then, making a great effort, he +continued,-- + +“Justin Chevassat was at twenty precisely what you know him to be as +Maxime de Brevan,--a profound dissembler, a fierce egotist devoured by +vanity, in fine, a man of ardent passions, and capable of anything to +satisfy his desires. + +“The hope of getting rich at once by some great stroke was already so +deeply rooted in his mind, that it gave him the strength to change his +habits and manner of life from one day to another, and to keep up the +deceit with a perseverance unheard of at his age. This lazy, profligate +gambler rose with the day, worked ten hours a day, and became the model +of all clerks. He had resolved to win the favor of his patron, and to be +trusted. He succeeded in doing it by the most consummate hypocrisy. So +that, only two years after he had first been admitted into the house, +he had already been promoted to a place which conferred upon him the +keeping of all the valuables of the firm. + +“This occurred before those accidents which have, since that time, +procured for the keepers of other people’s money such a sad reputation. +Nowadays it seems almost an ordinary event to hear of some cashier’s +running away with the funds intrusted to his keeping; and no one is +astonished. To create a sensation by such an occurrence, the sum must be +almost fabulous, say, two or three millions. And, even in that case, the +loser is by no means the man in whom the world is most interested. + +“At the time of which I am now speaking, defalcations were quite rare as +yet. Financial companies and brokers did not contemplate being robbed by +their own clerks as one of the ordinary risks. When they knew the keys +of their safe to be in the hands of an honest man, whose family and mode +of life were well known, they slept soundly. Justin Chevassat’s patron +was thus sleeping soundly for ten months, when one Sunday he was +specially in need of certain bonds which Justin used to keep in one of +the drawers of his desk. He did not like to have his clerk hunted up on +such a day; so he simply sent for a locksmith to open the drawer. + +“The first thing he saw was a draft signed by himself; and yet he had +never put his name to such a paper. Still, most assuredly, it was his +signature; he would have sworn to it in court. And yet he was as sure as +he was standing there, that it was not he who had put his name, and the +somewhat complicated ornament belonging to it, where he saw it written. + +“His first amazement was succeeded by grievous apprehension. He had the +other drawers opened likewise, searched them, and soon discovered all +the details of a formidable and most ingenious plan, by which he was to +be robbed at a single blow of more than a million. + +“If he had slept soundly one month longer, he would have been ruined. +His favorite clerk was a wretch, a forger of matchless skill. He +instantly sent for a detective; and the next morning, when Justin +Chevassat came as usual, he was arrested. It was then thought that +his crime was confined to this abortive attempt. Not so. A minute and +careful examination of all the papers soon revealed other misdeeds. +Evidence was found, that, on the very next day after the day on which he +had been appointed confidential clerk, he had stolen a thousand dollars, +concealing his theft by a false entry. Since that time not a week had +passed without his laying hands on a more or less considerable sum; +and all these thefts had been most ingeniously covered by such skilful +imitations of other people’s signatures, that he had once been sick for +a fortnight, and yet his substitute had never become aware of anything. +In fine, it appeared that the sum total of his defalcations amounted to +some eighty thousand dollars. + +“What had he done with all that money? The magistrate before whom he was +brought at once asked that question. He replied that he had not a cent +left. His explanations and his excuses were the old story pleaded by all +who put their hands into their neighbors’ pockets. + +“To hear him, no one could be more innocent than he was, however guilty +he might appear at first sight. He was like one of those men who allow +their little finger to be caught in a machine. His only fault was the +desire to speculate on ‘Change. Did not his employer speculate himself? +Having lost some money, and fearing to lose his place if he did not pay, +the fatal thought had occurred to him to borrow from the strong box. +From that moment he had only cherished one thought,--to restore what +he had taken. If he speculated anew, it was from extreme honesty, and +because he constantly hoped to gain enough to make restitution. But +most extraordinary ill luck had pursued him; so that, seeing the deficit +growing larger and larger, and overcome with remorse and terror, he had +almost gone mad, and ceased to put any restraint upon himself. + +“He laid great stress upon the fact that his whole eighty thousand +dollars had been lost on ‘Change, and that he would have looked upon +himself as the meanest of rascals, if he had spent any part of it on his +personal enjoyments. Unfortunately the forged checks and drafts in his +drawer destroyed the force of this plea. Convinced that the sums he had +thus obtained were not lost, the investigating magistrate suspected +the parents of the accused. He questioned them, and obtained sufficient +evidence against them to justify their arrest. But they could not +be convicted at the trial, and had to be released. Justin Chevassat, +however, appeared at the assizes. + +“Matters looked very serious for him; but he had the good luck of +falling in with a young lawyer who initiated in his case a system of +pleading which has since become very popular. He made no effort to +exculpate his client: he boldly accused the banker. ‘Was it the act of +a sensible man,’ he said, ‘to trust so young a man with such important +sums? Was it not tempting him beyond his powers of resistance, and +almost provoking him to become dishonest? What, this banker never +examined his books for so many months? What kind of a business was it, +where a cashier could so easily take eighty thousand dollars, and remain +undiscovered? And then, what immorality in a banker to speculate on +‘Change, and thus to set so bad an example to his young, inexperienced +clerks!’ + +“Justin Chevassat escaped with twenty years’ penal servitude. + +“What he was at the galleys, you may imagine from what you know of him. +He played the ‘repentant criminal,’ overflowing with professions of +sorrow for the past, and amendment in future, and cringing and crouching +at the feet of the officials of the prison. He carried on this comedy so +successfully, that, after three years and a half, he was pardoned. +But he had not lost his time in prison. The contact with the vilest +of criminals had sharpened his wits, and completed his education in +rascality. He came out of prison an accomplished felon. And even while +he still dragged the chain and ball along with him, he was already +planning and maturing new plots for the future, which he afterwards +executed with success. He conceived the idea of bursting forth in a new +shape, under which no one would ever suspect his former identity. + +“How he went about to do this, I am enabled to tell you accurately. +Through his godfather, the valet, who had died before his trial, Justin +Chevassat knew the history of the Brevan family in its minutest details. +It was a very sad story. The old marquis had died insolvent, after +having lost his five sons, who had gone abroad to make their fortunes. +The noble family had thus become extinct; but Justin proposed to +continue its lineage. He knew that the Brevans were originally from +Maine; that they had formerly owned immense estates in the neighborhood +of Mans; and that they had not been there for more than twenty years. +Would they still be remembered in a land where they had once been all +powerful? Most assuredly they would. Would people take the trouble to +inquire minutely what had become of the marquis and his five sons? As +assuredly not. + +“Chevassat’s plot was based upon these calculations. + +“As soon as he was free once more, he devoted all his energies to the +destruction of every trace of his identity; and, when he thought he had +accomplished this, he went to Mans, assuming the name of one of the sons +of the marquis, who had been nearly of his own age. No one doubted for a +moment that he was Maxime de Brevan. Who could have doubted it, when +he purchased the old family mansion for a considerable sum, although +it only consisted of a ruinous castle, and a small farm adjoining the +house? He paid cash, moreover, proving thus the correctness of the +magistrate’s suspicions as to his story about losses on ‘Change, and as +to the complicity of his parents. He even took the precaution of +living on his little estate for four years, practising the life of +a country-gentleman, received with open arms by the nobility of the +neighborhood, forming friendships, gaining supporters, and becoming more +and more identified with Maxime de Brevan. + +“What was his aim at that time? I always thought he was looking out +for a wealthy wife, so as to consolidate his position; and he came near +realizing his hopes. + +“He was on the point of marrying a young lady from Mans, who would have +brought him half a million in money, and the banns had already been +published, when, all of a sudden, the marriage was broken off, no one +knew why. + +“This only is certain: he was so bitterly disappointed by his failure, +that he sold his property, and left the country. For the next three +years, he lived in Paris, more completely Maxime de Brevan than ever; +and then he met Sarah Brandon.” + +Papa Ravinet had been speaking now for nearly three hours, and he was +beginning to feel exhausted. He showed his weariness in his face; +and his voice very nearly gave out. Still it was in vain for Daniel, +Henrietta, and Mrs. Bertolle herself to unite in begging him to go and +lie down for a few moments. + +“No,” he replied, “I will go to the end. You do not know how important +it is that M. Champcey should be in a position to act to-morrow, or +rather to-day. + +“It was at a fancy ball,” he went on, “given by M. Planix, that Sarah +Brandon, at that time still known as Ernestine Bergot, and Justin +Chevassat, now Maxime de Brevan, met for the first time. He was +completely overpowered by her marvellous beauty, and she--she was +strangely impressed by the peculiar expression in Maxime’s face. Perhaps +they divined each other’s character, perhaps they had an intuitive +perception of who they were. At all events, they soon became acquainted, +drawn as they were to each other by an instinctive and irresistible +attraction. They danced several times together; they sat side by side; +they talked long and intimately; and, when the ball came to an end, they +were friends already. + +“They met frequently; and, if it were not profanation, I would say they +loved each other. They seemed to be made on purpose to understand, +and, so to say, compliment, each other, equally corrupt as they were, +devoured by the same sinful desires, and alike free from all the +old-fashioned prejudices, as they called it, about justice, morals, and +honor. They could hardly help coming soon to some understanding by which +they agreed to associate their ambitions and their plans for the future. + +“For in those early days, when their feelings were still undented, they +had no secrets for each other. Love had torn the mask from their faces; +and each one vied with the other in letting the foulness of their past +days be seen clearly. This, no doubt, secured, first the constancy of +their passion, and the continuation of their intimacy long after they +had ceased loving each other. + +“For now they hate each other; but they are also afraid of each other. +Ten times they have tried to break off their intimacy; and as often they +have been compelled to renew it, bound as they feel they are to each +other by a chain far more oppressive and solid than the one Justin +Chevassat wore at the galleys. + +“At first, however, they had to conceal their intimacy; for they had no +money. By joining what she had stolen from her benefactor, to what she +had obtained from M. Planix, Sarah could not make up more than some +forty thousand francs. ‘That was not enough,’ she said, ‘to “set up” the +most modest establishment.’ As to M. de Brevan, however economical he +had been, he had come to an end of the sums stolen from his employer. +For eight or ten months now, he had been reduced to all kinds of +dangerous expedients in order to live. He rode in his carriage; but +he had been more than once very happy when he could extort a +twenty-franc-piece from his parents. He visited them, of course only +in secret; for they had in the meantime exchanged their shop, for the +modest little box assigned to the concierge of No. 23 Water Street. + +“Far, therefore, from being able to be useful to Sarah, he was perfectly +delighted when she brought him one fine day ten thousand francs to +alleviate his distress. + +“‘Ah!’ she said to him on this occasion, and often thereafter, ‘why +can’t we have that fool’s money?’ meaning her friend and lover, M. +Planix. + +“The next step was naturally an attempt at obtaining this much coveted +treasure. To begin, Sarah induced him to make a last will, in which he +made her his residuary legatee. One would be at a loss to guess how she +could obtain this from a young, healthy man, full of life and happiness, +if it were not that love will explain everything. When this success +had been achieved, M. de Brevan undertook to introduce in the +society frequented by Sarah and M. Planix one of his friends, who was +considered, and who really was, the best swordsman in Paris, a good +fellow otherwise, honor itself, and rather patient in temper than given +to quarrelling. + +“Without compromising herself, and with that abominable skill which is +peculiarly her own, Sarah, coquetted just enough with this young man, +M. de Font-Avar, to tempt him to pay her some attentions. But that +very night she complained to M. Planix of his persecution, and knew so +skilfully how to excite his jealousy, and to wound his vanity, that, +three days later, he allowed himself to be carried away by passion, and +struck M. de Font-Avar in the presence of a dozen friends. + +“A duel became inevitable; and M. de Brevan, pretending to try and +reconcile the two young men, secretly fanned the flame. The duel came +off one Saturday morning, in the woods near Vincennes. They fought with +small-swords; and, after little more than a minute, M. Planix received +a stab in his breast, fell, and was dead in an instant. He was not yet +twenty-seven years old. + +“Sarah’s joy was almost delirious. Accomplished actress as she was, she +could hardly manage to shed a few tears for the benefit of the public, +when the body, still warm, was brought to the house. And still she had +once loved the man, whom she had now assassinated. + +“Even as she knelt by the bedside, hiding her face in her handkerchief, +she was thinking only of the testament, lying safe and snug, as she +knew, in one of the drawers of that bureau, enclosed in a large official +envelope with a huge red wax seal. + +“It was opened and read the same day by the justice of the peace, who +had been sent for to put the seals on the deceased man’s property. And +then Sarah began to cry in good earnest. Her tears were tears of rage. +For seized by a kind of remorse, and at a moment when Sarah’s absence +had rendered him very angry, M. Planix had added two lines as a codicil. + +“He still said, ‘I appoint Miss Ernestine Bergot my residuary legatee’; +but he had written underneath, ‘on condition that she shall pay to each +of my sisters the sum of a hundred and fifty thousand francs.’ This was +more than three-fourths of his whole fortune. + +“When she arrived, therefore, that night, at Brevan’s rooms, her first +words were,-- + +“‘We have been robbed! Planix was a wretch! We won’t have a hundred +thousand francs left.’ + +“Maxime, however, recovered his equanimity pretty soon; for the sum +appeared to him quite large enough to pay for a crime in which they had +run no risk, and he was quite as willing as before to marry Sarah; but +she refused to listen to him, saying that a hundred thousand francs were +barely enough for a year’s income, and that they must wait. It was then +that M. de Brevan became a gambler. The wretch actually believed in +the cards; he believed that fortunes could be made by playing. He had +systems of his own which could not fail, and which he was bent upon +trying. + +“He proposed to Sarah to risk the hundred thousand francs, promising +to make a million out of them; and she yielded, tempted by the very +boldness of his proposition. + +“They resolved they would not stop playing till they had won a million, +or lost everything. And so they went to Homburg. There they led a +mad life for a whole month, spending ten hours every day at the +gaming-table, feverish, breathless, fighting the bank with marvellous +skill and almost incredible coolness. I have met an old croupier who +recollects them even now. Twice they were on the point of staking their +last thousand-franc-note; and one lucky day they won as much as four +hundred thousand francs. That day, Maxime proposed they should leave +Homburg. Sarah, who kept the money, refused, repeating her favorite +motto, ‘All, or nothing.’ + +“It was nothing. Victory remained, as usual, with, the ‘big battalions;’ +and one evening the two partners returned to their lodgings, ruined, +penniless, having not even a watch left, and owing the hotel-keeper a +considerable sum of money. + +“That evening Maxime spoke of blowing his brains out. Never, on the +contrary, had Sarah been merrier. + +“The next morning she dressed very early and went out, saying she had a +plan in her head, and would soon be back. + +“But she did not come back; and all that day M. de Brevan, devoured +by anxiety, waited in vain for her return. At five o’clock, however, a +messenger brought him a letter. He opened it; there were three thousand +francs in it, and these words:-- + +“‘When you receive these lines, I shall be far from Homburg. Do not wait +for me. Enclosed is enough to enable you to return to Paris. You shall +see me again when our fortune is made. + +“‘Sarah.’” + + +“Maxime was at first overcome with amazement. To be abandoned in this +way! To be thus unceremoniously dismissed, and by Sarah! He could not +recover from it. But anger soon roused him to fury; and at the same time +he was filled with an intense desire to avenge himself. But, in order to +avenge himself, he must first know how to find his faithless ally. What +had become of her? Where had she gone? + +“By dint of meditating, and recollecting all he could gather in his +memory, M. de Brevan remembered having seen Sarah two or three times, +since fortune had forsaken them, in close conversation with a tall, +thin gentleman of about forty years, who was in the habit of wandering +through the rooms, and attracted much attention by his huge whiskers, +his stiff carriage, and his wearied expression. No doubt Sarah, being +ruined, had fallen an easy prey to this gentleman, who looked as if he +might be a millionaire. + +“Where did he stay? At the Hotel of the Three Kings. Maxime went there +at once. Unfortunately, he was too late. The gentleman had left that +morning for Frankfort, by the 10.45 train, with an elderly lady, and a +remarkably pretty girl. + +“Sure of his game now, M. de Brevan left immediately for Frankfort, +convinced that Sarah’s brilliant beauty would guide him like a star. But +he hunted in vain all over town, inquiring at the hotels, and bothering +everybody with his questions. He found no trace of the fugitives. + +“When he returned to his lodgings that night, he wept. + +“Never in his life had he fancied himself half so unhappy. In losing +Sarah, he thought he had lost everything. During the five months of +their intimacy, she had gained such complete ascendency over him, that +now, when he was left to his own strength, he felt like a lost child, +having no thought and no resolution. + +“What was to become of him, now that this woman was no longer there +to sustain and inspire him,--that woman with the marvellous talent for +intrigue, the matchless courage that shrank from nothing, and the +energy which sufficed for everything? Sarah had, besides, filled his +imagination with such magnificent hopes, and opened before his covetous +eyes such a vast horizon of enjoyment, that he had come to look upon +things as pitiful, which would formerly have satisfied his highest +wishes. Should he, after having dreamed of those glorious achievements +by which millions are won in a day, sink back again into the meanness +of petty thefts? His heart turned from that prospect with unspeakable +loathing; and yet what was he to do? + +“He knew, that, if he returned to Paris, matters would not be very +pleasant for him there. His creditors, made restless by his prolonged +absence, would fall upon him instantly. How could he induce them to +wait? Where could he get the money to pay them, at least, a percentage +of his dues? How would he support himself? Were all of his dark works to +be useless? Was he to be shipwrecked before ever seeing even the distant +port? + +“Nevertheless, he returned to Paris, faced the storm, passed through +the crisis, and resumed his miserable life, associating with another +adventurer like himself, and succeeding thus, by immensely hard work, +in maintaining his existence and his assumed name. Ah! if our honest +friends could but know what misery, what humiliations and anxieties are +hid beneath that false splendor of high life, which they often envy, +they would think themselves fully avenged. + +“It is certain that Maxime de Brevan found times hard in those days, +and actually more than once regretted that he had not remained a stupid, +honest man. He thought that was so simple, and so clever. + +“Thus it came about, that, two years later, he had not yet been +reconciled to Sarah’s absence. Often and often, in his hours of +distress, he recalled her parting promise, ‘You shall see me again +when our fortune is made.’ He knew she was quite capable of amassing +millions; but, when she had them, would she still think of him? Where +was she? What could have become of her? + +“Sarah was at that time in America. + +“That tall, light-haired gentleman, that eminently respectable lady, who +had carried her off, were M. Thomas Elgin and Mrs. Brian. Who were these +people? I have had no time to trace out their antecedents. All I know +is, that they belonged to that class of adventurers whom one sees at +all the watering-places and gambling-resorts,--at Nice, at Monaco, and +during the winter in Italy; swindlers of the highest class, who unite +consummate skill with excessive caution; who are occasionally suspected, +but never found out; and who are frequently indebted to their art +of making themselves agreeable, and even useful to others, to the +carelessness of travellers, and their thorough knowledge of life, for +the acquaintance, or even friendship, of people whom one is astonished +to find in such company. + +“Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian were both English, and, so far, they had +managed to live very pleasantly. But old age was approaching; and they +began to be fearful about the future, when they fell in with Sarah. They +divined her, as she had divined Maxime; and they saw in her an admirable +means to secure a fortune. They did not hesitate, therefore, to offer +her a compact by which she was to be a full partner, although they +themselves had to risk all they possessed,--a capital of some twenty +thousand dollars. You have seen what these respectable people proposed +to make of her,--a snare and a pitfall. They knew very well that her +matchless beauty would catch fools innumerable, and bring in a rich +harvest of thousand-franc-notes. + +“The idea was by no means new, M. Champcey, as you seem to think; nor is +the case a rare one. + +“In almost all the capitals of Europe, you will find even now some of +these almost sublimely beautiful creatures, who are exhibited in +the great world by cosmopolitan adventurers. They have six or seven +years,--eighteen to twenty-five,--during which, their beauty and their +tact may secure an immense fortune to themselves and their comrades; and +according to chance, to their skill, or the whims or the folly of men, +they end by marrying some great personage in high life, or by keeping +a wretched gambling hell in the suburbs. They may fall upon the velvet +cushions of a princely carriage, or sink, step by step, to the lowest +depths of society. + +“M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian had agreed that they would exhibit Sarah in +Paris; that she was to marry a duke with any number of millions; and +that they should be paid for their trouble by receiving an annual +allowance of some ten thousand dollars. But, in order to undertake the +adventure with a good chance of success, it was indispensable that Sarah +should lose her nationality as a Parisian; that she should rise anew, as +an unknown star; and, above all, that she should be trained and schooled +for the profession she was to practise. + +“Hence the trip to America, and her long residence there. + +“Chance had helped the wretches. They had hardly landed, when they +found that they could easily introduce the girl as the daughter of +Gen. Brandon, just as Justin Chevassat had managed to become Maxime +de Brevan. In this way, Ernestine Bergot appeared at once in the best +society of Philadelphia as Sarah Brandon. Not less prudent than Maxime, +M. Elgin also purchased, in spite of his limited means, for a thousand +dollars, vast tracts of land in the western part of the State, where +there was no trace of oil-wells, but where there might very well be a +good many, and had them entered upon the name of his ward. + +“Of all these measures, I have the evidence in hand, and can produce it +at any moment.” + +For some time already, Daniel and Henrietta had looked at each other +with utter amazement. They were almost dumfounded by the prodigious +sagacity, the cunning, patience, and labor which the old dealer +must have employed to collect this vast mass of information. But he +continued, after a short pause,-- + +“Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian found out in a few days how well they had +been served by their instincts in taking hold of Sarah. In less than six +months, this wonderful girl, whose education they had undertaken, spoke +English as well as they did, and had become their master, controlling +them by the very superiority of her wickedness. From the day on which +Mrs. Brian explained to her the part she was expected to play, she +had assumed it so naturally and so perfectly, that all traces of art +disappeared at once. She had instinctively appreciated the immense +advantage she would derive from personifying a young American girl, +and the irresistible effect she might easily produce by her freedom of +movement and her bold ingenuousness. Finally, at the end of eighteen +months’ residence in America, M. Elgin declared that the moment had come +when Sarah might appear on the stage. + +“It was, therefore, twenty-eight months after their parting in Homburg, +that M. de Brevan received, one morning, the following note:-- + +“‘Come to-night, at nine o’clock, to M. Thomas Elgin’s house in Circus +Street, and be prepared for a surprise.’ + +“He went there. A tall man opened the door of the sitting-room; and, +at the sight of a young lady who sat before the fire, he could not help +exclaiming, ‘Ernestine, is that you?’ + +“But she interrupted him at once, saying, ‘You are mistaken: Ernestine +Bergot is dead, and buried by the side of Justin Chevassat, my dear +M. de Brevan. Come, lay aside that amazed air, and kiss Miss Sarah +Brandon’s hand.’ + +“It was heaven opening for Maxime. She had at last come back to +him,--this woman, who had come across his life like a tempest, and whose +memory he had retained in his heart, as a dagger remains in the wound it +has made. She had come back, more beautiful than ever, irresistible in +her matchless charms; and he fancied it was love which had brought her +back. + +“His vanity led him astray. Sarah Brandon had long since ceased to +admire him. Familiar as she was with the life of adventurers in high +life, she had soon learned to appreciate M. de Brevan at his just value. +She saw him now as he really was,--timid, overcautious, petty, incapable +of conceiving bold combinations, scarcely good enough for the smallest +of plots, ridiculous, in fine, as all needy scamps are. + +“Nevertheless, Sarah wanted him, although she despised him. On the point +of entering upon a most dangerous game, she felt the necessity of having +one accomplice, at least, in whom she could trust blindly. She had, to +be sure, Mrs. Brian and Sir Thorn, as he began to be called now; but +she mistrusted them. They held her, and she had no hold on them. On +the other hand, Maxime de Brevan was entirely hers, dependent on her +pleasure, as the lump of clay in the hands of the sculptor. + +“It is true that Maxime appeared almost distressed when he heard that +that immense fortune which he coveted with all his might was still to be +made, and that Sarah was no farther advanced now than she was on the day +of their separation. She might even have said that she was less so; for +the two years and more which had just elapsed had made a large inroad +upon the savings of M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. When they had paid for +their establishment in Circus Street, when they had advanced the hire +of a _coupe_, a landau, and two saddle-horses, they had hardly four +thousand dollars left in all. + +“They knew, therefore, that they must succeed or sink in the coming +year. And, thus driven to bay, they were doubly to be feared. They were +determined to fall furiously upon the first victim that should pass +within reach, when chance brought to them the unlucky cashier of the +Mutual Discount Society, Malgat.” + + + + +XXXI. + +For a few moments the fatigue of the old dealer seemed to have +disappeared. He was sitting up straight, with tremulous lips, with +flashing eyes, and continued in a strangely strident voice,-- + +“Fools alone attach no weight to trifling occurrences. And still it +is those that appear most insignificant which we ought to fear most, +because they alone determine our fate, precisely as an atom of sand +dismembers the most powerful engine. + +“It was on a fine afternoon in the month of October when Sarah Brandon +appeared for the first time before the eyes of Malgat. He was at that +time a man of forty, sprung from an old and respectable though modest +family, content with his lot in life, and rather simple, as most men +are who have always lived far from the intrigues of society. He had +one passion, however,--he filled the five rooms of his lodgings +with curiosities of every kind, happy for a week to come, if he had +discovered a piece of old china, or a curious piece of furniture, which +he could purchase cheap. He was not rich, his whole patrimony having +been long since spent on his collections; but he had a place that +brought him some three thousand dollars; and he was sure of an ample +pension in his old age. + +“He was honest in the highest sense of the word; his honesty being +instinctive, so to say, never reasoning, never hesitating. For fifteen +years now, he had been cashier; and hundreds of millions had passed +through his hands without arousing in him a shadow of covetousness. He +handled the gold in the bags, and the notes in the portfolios, with +as much indifference as if they had been pebbles and dry leaves. His +employers, besides, felt for him more than ordinary esteem: it was true +and devoted friendship. Their confidence in him was so great, that they +would have laughed in the face of any one who should have come and told +them, ‘Malgat is a thief!’ + +“Such he was, when, that morning, he was standing near his safe, and saw +a gentleman come to his window who had just cashed a check drawn by +the Central Bank of Philadelphia upon the Mutual Discount Bank. This +gentleman, who was M. Elgin, spoke such imperfect French, that Malgat +asked him, for convenience sake, to step inside the railing. He came in, +and behind him Sarah Brandon. + +“How can I describe to you the sensations of the poor cashier as he +beheld this amazing beauty! He could hardly stammer out a few incoherent +words; and the gentleman and the young lady had long since left, when +he was still lost in a kind of idiotic delight. He had been overtaken by +one of those overwhelming passions which sometimes felled to the ground +the strongest and simplest of men at the age of forty. + +“Alas! Sarah had but too keenly noticed the impression she had produced. +To be sure, Malgat was very far from that ideal of a millionaire husband +of whom these adventurers dreamed; but, after all, he held the keys of +a safe in which lay millions. One might always get something out of him +wherewith to wait for better things to come. Their plan was soon formed. + +“The very next day M. Elgin presented himself alone at the office to ask +for some information. He returned three days after with another draft. +By the end of the week, he had furnished Malgat with an opportunity to +render him some trifling service. Thus relations began to exist +between them; and, at the end of a fortnight, Sir Thorn could, with all +propriety, ask the cashier to dine with him in Circus Street. A voice +from within--one of those presentiments to which we ought always to +listen--warned Malgat not to accept the invitation; but he was already +no longer his own master. + +“He went to dinner in Circus Street, and he left it madly in love. + +“He had felt as if Sarah Brandon’s eyes had been all the time upon +him,--those strange, sublimely beautiful eyes, which upset our very +being within us, weakening the most powerful energy, troubling the +senses, and leading reason astray--eyes which dazzle, enchant, and +bewitch. + +“The commonest politeness required that Malgat should call upon Mrs. +Brian and M. Elgin. This call was followed by many others. A man less +blinded by passion might have become suspicious at the eagerness with +which these wretches, driven by necessity, carried on their intrigue. +Six weeks after their first meeting, Malgat fancied that Sarah was +wildly in love with him. It was absurd, most assuredly; it was foolish, +insane. Nevertheless, he believed it. He thought those rapturous glances +were genuine; he believed in the truthfulness of that intoxicating +sweetness of her voice, and those enchanting blushes, which his coming +never failed to call forth. + +“Now began the second act of the hideous comedy. Mrs. Brian appeared one +day, all of a sudden, to notice something, and promptly requested Malgat +never to put foot again within that house. She accused him of an attempt +to seduce Sarah Brandon. I dare say, you can imagine, the fool! how he +protested, affirming the purity of his intentions, and swearing that he +would be the happiest of mortals if they would condescend to grant him +the hand of her niece. But Sir Thorn, in the haughtiest tone possible, +asked him how he could dare think of such a thing, and presume that +he could ever be a fit match for a young lady who had a dower of two +hundred thousand dollars. + +“Malgat left with tottering steps, despair in his heart, and resolved to +kill himself. When he returned home, he actually went to look among his +curiosities for an old flint-lock pistol, and began to load it. + +“Ah! why did he not kill himself then? He would have carried his +deceptive illusions and his unstained honor with him to the grave. + +“He was just about to make his will when they brought him a letter from +Sarah. She wrote thus:-- + +“‘When a girl like myself loves, she loves for life, and she is his +whom she loves, or she is nobody’s. If your love is true, if dangers and +difficulties terrify you no more than they terrify me, knock to-morrow +night, at ten o’clock, at the gate of the court. I will open.’ + +“Mad with joy and hope, Malgat went to the fatal meeting. Do you know +what happened? Sarah fell around his neck, and said,-- + +“‘I love you. Let us run away.’ + +“Ah! if he had taken her at her word, and answered her, offering her his +arm,-- + +“‘Yes, let us flee,’ the plot might have been defeated, and he might +have been saved; for she would certainly not have gone with him. + +“But with that clear perception which was a perfect marvel in her, and +looked like the gift of second sight, she had taken the measure of the +cashier, and exposed herself to the danger, well-knowing that he would +shrink from doing what she asked. + +“He did shrink, the idiot! he was afraid. He said to himself that it +would be a mean thing to abuse the attachment of this pure and trustful +girl, to separate her from her family, and to ruin her forever. + +“He did have this wonderful power of self-denial to dissuade her from +taking such a step, and to induce her to be patient, giving time an +opportunity of coming to their assistance, while he would do all he +could to overcome the obstacles in the way. + +“For hours after he had left Sarah Brandon, Malgat had not recovered +from the excitement; and he would have thought the whole a dream, but +for the penetrating perfume which his clothes still retained where she +had rested her beautiful head. But, when he at last began to examine +his position, he came to the conclusion that he had indulged in childish +illusions, and that he could never hope to satisfy the demands made by +M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. There _was_ but one way, a single way, by +which he could ever hope to obtain possession of this woman whom +he worshipped; and that was the one she had herself proposed,--an +abduction. To determine upon such a step, however, was for Malgat to end +his peaceful life forever, to lose his place, to abandon the past, and +to venture upon an unknown future. But how could he reason at a moment +when his whole mind was filled with thoughts of the most amazing +happiness that ever was enjoyed by mortal being? + +“Whenever he thought of flight, there arose before him one obstacle +which he could not overcome. He had no money. How could he expose this +rich heiress, who left all for his sake, this beautiful girl, who was +accustomed to every imaginable luxury, to want and humiliation? No; that +he could never dare. And yet his whole available capital did not amount +to three thousand dollars. His fortune was invested in those curiosities +that were piled up all over his rooms,--beautiful objects to his eyes +in former days, but now hateful, and annoying to behold. He knew +they represented a large sum, quite a respectable fortune; but such +collections cannot be sold overnight; and time was pressing. + +“He had seen Sarah several times secretly; and each time she had +appeared to him more mournful and dejected. She could bring him nothing +but most distressing news. Mrs. Brian spoke of giving her in marriage to +a friend of hers. M. Elgin proposed to take her abroad. And, with such +troubles filling his head, the poor cashier had to attend to his +daily duties, and from morning till night receive tens and hundreds of +thousands; and never yet, I swear it, the thought occurred to him of +taking a small fraction of these treasures. + +“He had determined to sell all his collections as a whole, at any price +he could get, when one day, a few moments before the office closed, a +lady appeared, whose ample dress concealed her figure, while a thick +veil completely shrouded her features. + +“This lady raised her veil. It was she. It was Sarah Brandon. + +“Malgat begged her to enter. He was overcome. What new misfortune had +happened to induce her to take such a step? She told him in a few words. + +“Sir Thorn had found out their secret meetings: he had told her to be +ready to start for Philadelphia the next morning. + +“The crisis had come. They must choose now between two things,--either +to flee that very day, or be separated forever. + +“Ah! never had Sarah been so beautiful as at this moment, when she +seemed to be maddened by grief; never had her whole personal beauty +exhaled such powerful, such irresistible charms. Her breath went and +came, causing her almost to sob at every respiration; and big tears, +like scattered beads from a chaplet of pearls, rolled down her pale +cheeks. + +“Malgat stood a moment before her, stunned by the blow; and the +imminence of the danger extorted from him a confession of the reasons +that had made him hesitate so long. He told her, cruelly humiliated by +the avowal, that he had no money. + +“But she rose when she heard it, as if she had been stung by an insult, +and repeated with crushing irony,-- + +“‘No money? No money?’ + +“And when Malgat, more heartily ashamed of his poverty than he could +have been of a crime, blushed to the roots of his hair, she pointed at +the immense safe, which overflowed with gold and bank-notes, and said,-- + +“‘And what is all that?’ + +“Malgat jumped up, and stood before the safe, his arms far outstretched, +as if to defend it, and said in an accent of ineffable terror,-- + +“‘What are you thinking of? And my honor?’ + +“This was to be his last effort to preserve his honor. Sarah looked him +straight in the face, and said slowly,-- + +“‘And my honor! My honor is nothing to you? Do I not give myself? Do you +mean to drive a bargain?’ + +“Great God! She said this with an accent and with a look which would +have tempted an angel. Malgat fell helpless into a chair. + +“Then she came close up to him, and, casting upon him those burning +glances which blazed with superhuman audacity, she sighed,-- + +“‘If you loved me really! Ah, if you really loved me!’ + +“And she bent over him, tremulous with passion, watching his features so +closely, that their lips nearly touched. + +“‘If you loved me as I love you,’ she whispered again. + +“It was all over; Malgat was lost. He drew Sarah towards him, and said, +kissing her,-- + +“‘Very well then. Yes!’ + +“She immediately disengaged herself, and with eager hands seized one +parcel of bank-notes after another, pushing them into a little morocco +bag which she held in her hand. And, when the bag was full, she said,-- + +“‘Now we are safe. To-night at ten o’clock, at the gate of the court- +yard, with a carriage. To-morrow, at daybreak, we shall be out of +France, and free. Now we are bound to each other forever,--and I love +you!’ + +“And she went away. And he let her go away.” + +The old gentleman had become ghastly white, his few hairs seemed to +stand on end, and large drops of perspiration inundated his face as he +swallowed at a gulp a cup of tea, and then went on, laughing bitterly,-- + +“You suppose, no doubt, that, _when_ Sarah had left him, Malgat came to +himself? By no means. It seemed as if, with that kiss, with which she +had paid him for his crime, the infamous creature had inspired him with +the same genius for evil that was in her. + +“Far from repenting, he rejoiced at what had been done; and when he +learned, that, on the following day, the board of directors were to meet +to examine the books, he laughed at the faces they would make; for +I told you he was mad. With all the coolness of a hardened thief, he +calculated the total amount of what had been abstracted: it was four +hundred thousand francs. Immediately, in order to conceal the true state +of things, he took his books, and, with almost diabolic skill, altered +the figures, and changed the entries, so as to make it appear that the +defalcation was of long date, and that various sums had been abstracted +for several months. When he had finished his fearful task, he wrote to +the board a hypocritical letter, in which he stated that he had robbed +the safe in order to pay his differences on ‘Change, and that now, when +he could no longer conceal his crime, he was going to commit suicide. +When this was done, he left his office, as if nothing had happened. + +“The proof that he acted under the incomprehensible influence of a kind +of hallucination is this, that he felt neither remorse nor fear. As he +was resolved not to return to his house, nor to encumber himself with +luggage, he dined at a restaurant, spent a few minutes at a theatre, and +then posted his letter to the board of directors, so that it might reach +them early in the morning. + +“At ten o’clock he knocked at the gate of the house in Circus Street. A +servant came and opened, saying in a mysterious manner,-- + +“‘Please go up. The young lady is waiting.’ + +“A terrible presentiment seized him at that moment, and chilled him to +the marrow in his bones. In the parlor Sarah was sitting on a sofa, and +Maxime de Brevan by her side. They were laughing so loud, that he heard +them in the anteroom. When Malgat entered, she raised her head with a +dissatisfied air, and said rudely,-- + +“‘Ah! It is you. What do you want now?’ + +“Surely, such a reception ought to have disabused the unfortunate man. +But no! When he began to stammer some explanations, she interrupted him, +saying,-- + +“‘Let us speak frankly. You come to run away with me, don’t you? Well, +that is simply nonsense. Look at yourself, my good friend, and tell me +if a girl such as I am can be in love with a man like you. As to that +small loan, it does not pay me, I assure you, by half, for the sublime +little comedy which I have had to play. Believe me, at all events, when +I tell you that I have taken all my precautions so as not to be troubled +by anything you may say or do. And now, sir, I wish you good-evening; +or must I go?’ + +“Ah! she might have spoken a long time yet, and Malgat would not have +thought of interrupting her. The fearful truth broke all of a sudden +upon him; and he felt as if the whole world were going to pieces. +He understood the enormity of the crime; he discerned the fatal +consequences, and knew he was ruined. A thousand voices arose from his +conscience, telling him, ‘You are a thief! You are a forger! You are +dishonored!’ + +“But, when he saw Sarah Brandon get up to leave the room, he was seized +with an attack of furious rage, and threw himself upon her, crying,-- + +“‘Yes, I am lost; but you shall die, Sarah Brandon!’ + +“Poor fool! who did not know that these wretches had, of course, +foreseen his wrath, and prepared for the emergency. Supple, like one of +those lost children of the gutter among whom she had lived once upon a +time, Sarah Brandon escaped from Malgat’s grasp, and by a clever trick +threw him upon an arm-chair. Before he could rise again, he was held +fast by Maxime de Brevan, and by M. Elgin, who had heard the noise, and +rushed in from the adjoining room. + +“The poor man did not attempt to resist. Why should he? Within him, +moreover, a faint hope began to rise. It seemed to him impossible that +such a monstrous wrong could be carried out, and that he would have only +to proclaim the wickedness of these wretches to have them in his power. + +“‘Let me go!’ he said. ‘I must go!’ + +“But they did not allow him to go as yet. They guessed what was going on +in his mind. Sir Thorn asked him coolly,-- + +“‘Where do you think of going? Do you mean to denounce us? Have a care! +You would only sacrifice yourself, without doing us any harm. If you +think you can use Sarah’s letter, in which she appoints a meeting, as a +weapon against us, you are mistaken. She did not write that letter; and, +moreover, she can prove an alibi. You see we have prepared everything +for this business during the last three months; and nothing has been +left to chance. Do not forget that I have commissioned you twenty times +to buy or sell for me on ‘Change, and that it was always done in your +name, at my request. How can you say you did not speculate on ‘Change?’ + +“The poor cashier’s heart sank within him. Had he not himself, for +fear lest a suspicion should fall upon Sarah Brandon, told the board +of directors in his letter that he had been tempted by unlucky +speculations? Had he not altered the entries in the books in order to +prove this assertion? Would they believe him if he were to tell the +truth? Whom could he ever hope to persuade that what was probable was +false, and that the improbable was true? Sir Thorn continued with his +horrid sneers,-- + +“‘Have you forgotten the letters which you wrote me for the purpose of +borrowing money from me, and in which you confess your defalcations? +Here they are. You can read them.’ + +“These letters, M. Champcey, are those which Sarah showed you; and +Malgat was frightened out of his senses. He had never written such +letters; and yet there was his handwriting, imitated with such amazing +perfection, that he began to doubt his own senses and his own reason. He +only saw clearly that no one would look upon them as forgeries. + +“Ah! Maxime de Brevan is an artist. His letter to the navy department +has, no doubt, proved it to you. + +“Seeing Malgat thus stupefied, Sarah took the word, and said,-- + +“‘Look here, my dear; I’ll give you some advice. Here are ten thousand +francs: take them, and run for your life. It is time yet to take the +train for Brussels.’ + +“But he rose, and said,-- + +“‘No! There is nothing left for me but to die. May my blood come upon +you!’ + +“And he rushed out, pursued by the insulting laugh of the wretches.” + +Amazed at the inconceivable boldness of this atrocious plot, Daniel and +Henrietta were shuddering with horror. As to Mrs. Bertolle, she had sunk +into a chair, trembling in all her limbs. The old gentleman, however, +continued with evident haste,-- + +“Whether Malgat did, or did not, commit suicide, he was never heard of +again. The trial came on, and he was condemned _in contumaciam_ to ten +years’ penal servitude. Sarah, also, was examined by a magistrate; but +she made it a success. + +“And that was all. And this crime, one of the most atrocious ever +conceived by human wickedness, went to swell the long list of unpunished +outrages. The robbers triumphed impudently in broad daylight. They had +four hundred thousand francs. They could retire from business. + +“No, indeed! Twenty thousand francs a year was far too little for their +immoderate desires! They accepted this fortune as an installment on +account on the future, and used it to wait patiently for new victims to +be stripped. + +“Unfortunately, such victims would not show themselves. The house was +mounted upon a most expensive footing. M. de Brevan had, of course, +claimed his share; Sir Thorn was a gambler; Sarah loved diamonds; and +grim Mrs. Brian had her own vices. In short, the hour came when danger +was approaching; but, just at that moment, Sarah, looking around, met +with the unlucky victim she needed. + +“This one was a handsome young man, almost a child yet, kind, generous, +and chivalrous. He was an orphan, and came up from his province, his +heart full of illusions, and in his pockets his entire fortune,--a sum +of five hundred thousand francs. His name was Charles de Kergrist. + +“Maxime managed to bring him to the house in Circus Street. He saw +Sarah, and was dazzled. He loved her, and was lost. + +“Ah! The poor fellow did not last long. At the end of five months, his +half million was in the hands of Sarah. And, when he had not a cent +left, she well-nigh forced him to write her three forged drafts, +swearing, that, on the day on which they became due, she would take them +up herself. But when the day came, and he called in Circus Street, he +was received as Malgat had been received. They told him that the forgery +had been discovered: that suit had been brought; that he was ruined. +They offered him, also, money to flee. + +“Poor Kergrist! They had not miscalculated. Descended from a family in +which a keen sense of honor had been hereditary for many generations, +he did not hesitate. As soon as he left the house, he hanged himself on +Sarah’s window, thinking that he would thus hold up to public censure +the infamous creature who had led him to commit a crime. + +“Poor child! They had deceived him. He was not ruined. The forgery had +never been discovered; the drafts had never been used at all. A careful +investigation revealed nothing against Sarah Brandon; but the scandals +of the suicide diminished her prestige. She felt it; and, giving up her +dreams of greatness, she thought of marrying a fool who was immensely +wealthy, M. Wilkie Gordon, when Sir Thorn spoke to her of Count +Ville-Handry. + +“In fortune, name, and age, the count was exactly what Sarah had dreamed +of so often. She threw herself upon him. + +“How the old gentleman was drawn to Circus Street; how he was +surrounded, insnared, intoxicated, and finally made a husband--all that +you know but too well, M. Champcey. But what you do not know is the fact +that this marriage brought discord into the camp. M. de Brevan would not +hear of it; and it was the hope he had of breaking it up, which made +him speak to you so frankly of Sarah Brandon. When you went to ask +his advice, he was on bad terms with her: she had turned him off, and +refused to pay him any money. And he was so mortally offended, that he +would have betrayed her to the courts even, if he had known how to do it +without inculpating himself. + +“You were the very person to reconcile them again, inasmuch as you gave +Maxime an opportunity of rendering Sarah Brandon a great service. + +“He did not then anticipate that she would ever fall in love with +you, and that she, in her turn, would have to succumb to one of those +desperate passions which she had so often kindled in others, and used +for her own advantage. This discovery made him furious; and Sarah’s +love, and Maxime’s rage, will explain to you the double plot by +which you were victimized. Sarah, who loved you, wanted to get rid of +Henrietta, who was your betrothed: Maxime, stung by jealousy, wanted you +to die.” + +Visibly overcome by fatigue, Papa Ravinet fell back in his chair, and +remained silent for more than five minutes. Then he seemed to make one +more effort, and went on,-- + +“Now, let us sum up the whole. I know how Sarah, Sir Thorn, and Mrs. +Brian have gone to work to rob Count Ville-Handry, and to ruin him. I +know what they have done with the millions which they report were lost +in speculations; and I have the evidence in my hand. Therefore, I can +ruin them, without reference to their other crimes. Crochard’s affidavit +alone suffices to ruin M. de Brevan. The two Chevassats, husband and +wife, have caught themselves by keeping the four thousand francs you +sent to Miss Henrietta. We have them safe, the wretches! The hour of +vengeance has come at last.” + +Henrietta did not let him conclude: she interrupted him, saying,-- + +“And my father, sir, my father?” + +“M. Champcey will save him, madam.” + +Daniel had risen, deeply moved, and now asked,-- + +“What am I to do?” + +“You must call on the Countess Sarah, and look as if you had forgotten +all that has happened,--as far as she is concerned, Miss Henrietta.” + +The young officer blushed all over, and stammered painfully,-- + +“Ah, I cannot play that part! I would not be able.” + +But Henrietta stopped him. Laying her hand on his shoulder, and looking +deep into the eyes of her betrothed, as if to search the very depths of +his conscience, she said,-- + +“Have you reasons for hesitating?” + +He hung his head, and said,-- + +“I shall go.” + + + + +XXXII. + +It struck two when Daniel jumped out of a carriage before No. 79 in +Peletier Street, where the offices of the Pennsylvania Petroleum Company +were now, and where Count Ville-Handry lived at present. + +Never in his life had he felt so embarrassed, or so dissatisfied with +himself. In vain had Papa Ravinet and Mrs. Bertolle brought up all +possible arguments to convince him, that, with a woman like Sarah +Brandon, all reprisals were fair; he would not be convinced. + +Unfortunately, he could not refuse to go without risking the peace of +his Henrietta, her confidence, and her whole happiness; so he went as +bravely as he could. + +A clerk whom he asked told him that the president was in his rooms,--in +the third story on the left. He went up. The maid who came to open the +door recognized him. It was the same Clarissa who had betrayed him. +When he asked for the count she invited him in. She took him through +an anteroom, dark, and fragrant with odors from the kitchen; and then, +opening a door, she said;-- + +“Please walk in!” + +Before an immense table, covered with papers, sat Count Ville-Handry. +He had grown sadly old. His lower lip hung down, giving him a painful +expression of weakness of mind; and his watery eyes looked almost +senile. Still his efforts to look young had not been abandoned. He was +rouged and dyed as carefully as ever. When he recognized Daniel, he +pushed back his papers; and offering him his hand, as if they had parted +the day before, he said,-- + +“Ah, here you are back again among us! Upon my word, I am very glad to +see you! We know what you have been doing out there; for my wife sent me +again and again to the navy department to see if there were any news of +you. And you have become an officer of the Legion of Honor! You ought to +be pleased.” + +“Fortune has favored, me, count.” + +“Alas! I am sorry I cannot say as much for myself,” replied the latter +with a sigh. + +“You must be surprised,” he continued, “to find me living in such a +dog’s kennel, I who formerly--But so it goes. ‘The ups and downs of +speculations,’ says Sir Thorn. Look here, my dear Daniel, let me give +you a piece of advice: never speculate in industrial enterprises! +Nowadays it is mere gambling, furious gambling; and everybody cheats. If +you stake a dollar, you are in for everything. That is my story, and I +thought I would enrich my country by a new source of revenue. From the +first day on which I emitted shares, speculators have gotten hold of +them, and have crushed me, till my whole fortune has been spent in +useless efforts to keep them up. And yet Sir Thorn says I have fought as +bravely on this slippery ground as my ancestors did in the lists.” + +Every now and then the poor old man passed his hand over his face as +if trying to drive away painful thoughts; and then he went on in a +different tone of voice,-- + +“And yet I am far from complaining. My misfortunes have been the source +of the purest and highest happiness for me. It is to them I owe the +knowledge of the boundless devotion of a beloved wife; they have taught +me how dearly Sarah loves me. I alone can tell what treasures are hid +in that angelic heart, which they dared to calumniate. Ah! I think I can +hear her now, when I told her one evening how embarrassed I had become +in my finances. + +“‘To have concealed that from me!’ she exclaimed,--‘from me, your wife: +that was wrong!’ And the very next day she showed her sublime courage. +She sold her diamonds to bring me the proceeds, and gave up to me her +whole fortune. And, since we are living here, she goes out on foot, like +a simple citizen’s wife; and more than once I have caught her preparing +our modest meals with her own hands.” + +Tears were flowing down the furrowed cheeks, leaving ghastly lines on +the rouged and whitened surface. + +“And I,” he resumed in an accent of deepest despair,--“I could not +reward her for such love and so many sacrifices. How did I compensate +her for being my only consolation, my joy, my sole happiness in life! I +ruined her; I impoverished her! If I were to die to-morrow, she would be +penniless.” + +Daniel trembled. + +“Ah, count,” he exclaimed, “don’t speak of dying! People like you live a +hundred years.” + +But the old man lowered his voice, and said,-- + +“You see, I have not told you all yet. But you are my friend; and I know +I can open my heart to you. _I_ did not have the--the--cleverness to +overcome all the restrictions which hamper this kind of business. I was +imprudent, in spite of all Sir Thorn’s warnings. To-morrow there will be +a meeting of the stockholders; and, if they do not grant me what I shall +have to ask of them, I may be in trouble. And, when a man calls himself +Count Ville-Handry, rather than appear in a police-court--you know what +I mean!” + +He was interrupted by one of the clerks, who brought him a letter. He +read it, and said,-- + +“Tell them I am coming.” + +Then, turning again to Daniel, he added,-- + +“I must leave you; but the countess is at home, and she would never +forgive me if I did not take you in to present your respects to her. +Come! But be careful and don’t say a word of my troubles. It would kill +her.” + +And, before Daniel could recover from his bewilderment, the count had +opened a door, and pushed him into the room, saying,-- + +“Sarah, M. Champcey.” + +Sarah started up as if she had received an electric shock. Her husband +had left them; but, even if he had been still in the room, she would +probably not have been any more able to control herself. + +“You!” she cried, “Daniel, my Daniel!” + +And turning to Mrs. Brian, who was sitting by the window, she said,-- + +“Leave us.” + +“Your conduct is perfectly shocking, Sarah!” began the grim lady. But +Sarah, as harshly as if she had been speaking to a servant, cut her +short, saying,-- + +“You are in the way, and I beg you will leave the room.” + +Mrs. Brian did so without saying a word; and the countess sank into an +arm-chair, as if overcome by a sudden good fortune which she was not +able to endure, looking intensely at Daniel, who stood in the centre of +the room like a statue. + +She had on a simple black merino dress; she wore no jewelry; but her +marvellous, fatal beauty seemed to be all the more dazzling. The years +had passed over her without leaving any more traces on her than the +spring breeze leaves on a half-opened rose. Her hair still shone with +its golden flashes; her rosy lips smiled sweetly; and her velvet eyes +caressed you still, till hot fire seemed to run in your veins. + +Once before Daniel had been thus alone with her; and, as the sensations +he then felt rose in his mind, he began to tremble violently. Then, +thinking of his purpose in coming here, and the treacherous part he was +about to act, he felt a desire to escape. + +It was she who broke the charm. She began, saying,-- + +“You know, I presume, the misfortunes that have befallen us. Your +betrothed, Henrietta? Has the count told you?” + +Daniel had taken a chair. He replied,-- + +“The count has said nothing about his daughter.” + +“Well, then, my saddest presentiments have been fulfilled. Unhappy girl! +I did what I could to keep her in the right way. But she fell, step by +step, and finally so low, that one day, when a ray of sense fell upon +her mind, she went and killed herself.” + +It was done. Sarah had overcome the last hesitation which Daniel still +felt. Now he was in the right temper to meet cunning with cunning. He +answered in an admirably-feigned tone of indifference,-- + +“Ah!” + +Then, encouraged by the joyous surprise he read in Sarah’s face, he went +on,-- + +“This expedition has cost me dear. Count Ville-Handry has just informed +me that he has lost his whole fortune. I am in the same category.” + +“What! You are”-- + +“Ruined. Yes; that is to say, I have been robbed,--robbed of every cent +I ever had. On the eve of my departure, I intrusted a hundred thousand +dollars, all I ever possessed, to M. de Brevan, with orders to hold +it at Miss Henrietta’s disposal. He found it easier to appropriate the +whole to himself. So, you see, I am reduced to my pittance of pay as a +lieutenant. That is not much.” + +Sarah looked at Daniel with perfect amazement. In any other man, this +prodigious confidence in a friend would have appeared to her the extreme +of human folly; in Daniel, she thought it was sublime. + +“Is that the reason why they have arrested M. de Brevan?” she asked. + +Daniel had not heard of his arrest. + +“What!” he said. “Maxime”-- + +“Was arrested last night, and is kept in close confinement.” + +However well prepared Daniel was by Papa Ravinet’s account, he could +never have hoped to manage the conversation as well as chance did. He +replied,-- + +“It cannot be for having robbed me. M. de Brevan must have been arrested +for having attempted to murder me.” + +The lioness who has just been robbed of her whelps does not rise with +greater fury in her eyes than Sarah did when she heard these words. + +“What!” she cried aloud. “He has dared touch you!” + +“Not personally; oh, no! But he hired for the base purpose a wretched +felon, who was caught, and has confessed everything. I see that the +order to apprehend my friend Maxime must have reached here before me, +although it left Saigon some time later than I did.” + +Might not M. de Brevan be as cowardly as Crochard when he saw that all +was lost? This idea, one would think, would have made Sarah tremble. But +it never occurred to her. + +“Ah, the wretch!” she repeated. “The scoundrel, the rascal!” + +And, sitting down by Daniel, she asked him to tell her all the details +of these attempted assassinations, from which he had escaped only by a +miracle. + +The Countess Sarah, in fact, never doubted for a moment but that Daniel +was as madly in love with her as Planix, as Malgat, and Kergrist, and +all the others, had been, she had become so accustomed to find her +beauty irresistible and all powerful. How could it ever have occurred to +her, that this man, the very first whom she loved sincerely, should also +be the first and the only one to escape from her snares? She was taken +in, besides, by the double mirage of love and of absence. + +During the last two years she had so often evoked the image of Daniel, +she had so constantly lived with him in her thoughts, that she mistook +the illusion of her desires for the reality, and was no longer able to +distinguish between the phantom of her dreams and the real person. + +In the meantime he entertained her by describing to her his actual +position, lamenting over the treachery by which he had been ruined, and +adding how hard he would find it at thirty to begin the world anew. + +And she, generally, so clearsighted, was not surprised to find that +this man, who had been disinterestedness itself, should all of a sudden +deplore his losses so bitterly, and value money so highly. + +“Why do you not marry a rich woman?” she suddenly asked him. + +He replied with a perfection of affected candor which he would not have +suspected to be in his power the day before,-- + +“What? Do you--you, Sarah--give me such advice?” + +He said it so naturally, and with such an air of aggrieved surprise, +that she was delighted and carried away by it, as if he had made her the +most passionate avowal. + +“You love me? Do you really, really love me?” + +The sound of a key turning in the door interrupted them. + +And in an undertone, speaking passionately, she said,-- + +“Go now! You shall know by to-morrow who she is whom I have chosen for +you. Come and breakfast with us at eleven o’clock. Go now.” + +And, kissing him on his lips till they burnt with unholy fire, she +pushed him out of the room. + +The poor man staggered like a drunken man, as he went down the stairs. + +“I am playing an abominable game,” he said to himself. “She does love +me! What a woman!” + +It required nothing less to rouse him from his stupor than the sight +of Papa Ravinet, who was waiting for him below, hid in a corner of his +carriage. + +“Is it you?” he said. + +“Yes, myself. And it seems it was well I came. But for me, the count +would have kept you; but I came to your rescue by sending him up a +letter. Now, tell me all.” + +Daniel reported to him briefly, while they were driving along, his +conversation with the count and with Sarah. When he had concluded, the +old dealer exclaimed,-- + +“We have the whole matter in our hands now. But there is not a minute to +lose. Do you go back to the hotel, and wait for me there. I must go to +the court.” + +At the hotel Daniel found Henrietta dying with anxiety. Still she only +asked after her father. Was it pride, or was it prudence? She did not +mention Sarah’s name. They had, however, not much time for conversation. +Papa Ravinet came back sooner than they expected, all busy and excited. +He drew Daniel aside to give him his last directions, and did not leave +him till midnight, when he went away, saying,-- + +“The ground is burning under our feet; be punctual to-morrow.” + +At the precise hour Daniel presented himself in Peletier Street, where +the count received him with a delighted air. + +“Ah!” he exclaimed, “you come just in time. Brian is away; Sir Thorn is +out on business; and I shall have to leave you directly after breakfast. +You must keep the countess company. Come, Sarah, let us have breakfast.” + +It was an ill-omened breakfast. + +Under the thick layers of rouge, the count showed his livid pallor; +and every moment nervous tremblings shook him from head to foot. The +countess affected childish happiness; but her sharp and sudden movements +betrayed the storm that was raging in her heart. Daniel noticed that she +incessantly filled the count’s glass,--a strong wine it was too,--and +that, in order to make him take more, she drank herself an unusual +quantity. + +It struck twelve, and Count Ville-Handry got up. + +“Well,” he said with the air and the voice of a man who braces himself +to mount the scaffold, “it must be done; they are waiting for me.” + +And, after having kissed his wife with passionate tenderness, he shook +hands with Daniel, and went out hurriedly. + +Crimson and breathless, Sarah also had risen, and was listening +attentively. And, when she was quite sure that the count had gone +downstairs, she said,-- + +“Now, Daniel, look at me! Need I tell you who the woman is whom I have +chosen for you? It is--the Countess Ville-Handry.” + +He shook and trembled; but he controlled himself by a supreme effort, +and calmly smiling, in a half tender, half ironical tone, he replied,-- + +“Why, oh, why! do you speak to me of unattainable happiness? Are you not +married?” + +“I may be a widow.” + +These words from her lips had a fearful meaning. But Daniel was prepared +for them, and said,-- + +“To be sure you may. But, unfortunately, you, also, are ruined. You are +as poor as I am; and we are too clever to think of joining poverty to +poverty.” + +She looked at him with a strange, sinister smile. She was evidently +hesitating. A last ray of reason lighted up the abyss at her feet. But +she was drunk with pride and passion; she had taken a good deal of wine; +and her usually cool head was in a state of delirium. + +“And if I were not ruined?” she said at last in a hoarse voice; “what +would you say then?” + +“I should say that you are the very woman of whom an ambitious man of +thirty might dream in his most glorious visions.” + +She believed him. Yes, she was capable of believing that what he said +was true; and, throwing aside all restraint, she went on,-- + +“Well, then, I will tell you. I am rich,--immensely rich. That entire +fortune which once belonged to Count Ville-Handry, and which he thinks +has been lost in unlucky speculations,--the whole of it is in my hands. +Ah! I have suffered horribly, to have to play for two long years the +loving wife to this decrepit old man. But I thought of you, my much +beloved, my Daniel; and that thought sustained me. I knew you would come +back; and I wanted to have royal treasures to give you. And I have them. +These much coveted millions are mine, and you are here; and now I can +say to you, ‘Take them, they are yours; I give them to you as I give +myself to you.’” + +She had drawn herself up to her full height as she said this; and she +looked splendid and fearful at the same time, in her matchless beauty, +diffusing energy and immodesty around her, and shaking her head +defiantly, till the waves of golden hair flowed over her shoulders. + +The untamed vagabond of the gutter reappeared all of a sudden, +breathless and trembling, hoarse, lusting. + +Daniel felt as if his reason was giving way. Still he had the strength +to say,-- + +“But unfortunately you are not a widow.” + +She drew close up to him, and said in a strident voice,-- + +“Not a widow? Do you know what Count Ville-Handry is doing at this +moment? He is beseeching his stockholders to relieve him from the +effects of his mismanagement. If they refuse him, he will be brought up +in court, and tried as a defaulter. Well, I tell you! they will refuse +him; for among the largest stockholders there are three who belong to +me: I have bribed them to refuse. What do you think the count will do +when he finds himself dishonored and disgraced? I will tell you again; +for I have seen him write his will, and load his revolver.” + +But the door of the outer room was opened. She turned as pale as death +itself, and, seizing Daniel’s arm violently, she whispered,-- + +“Listen!” + +Heavy steps were heard in the adjoining room, then--nothing more! + +“It is he!” she whispered again. “Our fate is hanging in the scales”-- + +A shot was heard, which made the window-panes rattle, and cut her +short. She was seized with spasms from head to foot, but, making a great +effort, she cried out,-- + +“Free at last, Daniel; we are free!” + +And, rushing to the door, she opened it. + +She opened it, but instantly shut it again violently, and uttered a +terrible cry. + +On the threshold stood Count Ville-Handry, his features terribly +distorted, a smoking revolver in his hand. + +“No,” he said, “Sarah, no, you are not free!” + +Livid, and with eyeballs starting from their sockets, the wretched woman +had shrunk back to a door which opened from the dining-room directly +into her chamber. + +She was not despairing yet. + +It was evident she was looking for one of those almost incredible +excuses which are sometimes accepted by credulous old men when violent +passions seize them in their dotage. + +She abandoned the thought, however, when the count stepped forward, and +thus allowed Papa Ravinet to be seen behind him. + +“Malgat!” she cried,--“Malgat!” + +She held out her hands before her as if to push aside a spectre that +had suddenly risen from the grave, and was now opening its arms to seize +her, and carry her off. + +In the meantime Malgat came forward, with Henrietta leaning on Mrs. +Bertolle’s arm. + +“She also,” muttered Sarah,--“she too!” + +The terrible truth broke at last upon her mind: she saw the snare in +which she had been caught, and felt that she was lost. Then turning to +Daniel, she said to him,-- + +“Poor man! Who has made you do this? It was not in your loyal heart to +plan such treachery against a woman. Are you mad? And do you not see, +that for the privilege of being loved by me as I love you, and were it +but for a day, Malgat would again rob his employers, and the count would +again give all his millions, and his honor itself?” + +She said this; but at the same time she had slipped one of her hands +behind her back, and was feeling for the knob of the door. She got hold +of it, and instantly disappeared, before any one could have prevented +her escape. + +“Never mind!” said Malgat. “All the outer doors are guarded.” + +But she had not meant to escape. There she was again, pale and cold like +marble. She looked defiantly all around her, and said in a mocking tone +of voice,-- + +“I have loved; and now I can die. That is just. I have loved. Ah! +Planix, Malgat, and Kergrist ought to have taught me what becomes of +people who really love.” + +Then looking at Daniel, she went on,-- + +“And you--you will know what you have lost when I am no more. I may die; +but the memory of my love will never die: it will rankle ever in you +like a wound which opens daily afresh, and becomes constantly sorer. +You triumph now, Henrietta; but remember, that between your lips and +Daniel’s there will forever rise the shadow of Sarah Brandon.” + +As she said the last words, she raised a small phial, which she held in +her hand, with an indescribably swift movement to her lips: she drank +the contents, and, sinking into a chair, said,-- + +“Now I defy you all!” + +“Ah, she escapes after all!” exclaimed Malgat, “she escapes from +justice!” He rushed forward to assist her; but Daniel stepped between, +and said,-- + +“Let her die.” + +Already horrible convulsions began to seize her; and the penetrating +smell of bitter almonds, which slowly filled the whole room, told but +too plainly that the poison which she had taken was one of those from +which there is no rescue. + +She was carried to her bed; and in less than ten minutes she was dead: +she had never uttered another word. + +Henrietta and Mrs. Bertolle were kneeling by the side of the bed, and +the count was sobbing in a corner of the room, when a police-sergeant +entered. + +“The woman Brian is not to be found,” he said; “but M. Elgin has been +arrested. Where is the Countess Ville-Handry?” + +Daniel pointed at the body. + +“Dead?” said the officer. “Then I have nothing more to do here.” + +He was going out, when Malgat stopped him. + +“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said. “I wish to state that I am not +Ravinet, dealer in curiosities; but that my true name is Malgat, +formerly cashier of the Mutual Discount Society, sentenced _in +contumaciam_ to ten years’ penal servitude. I am ready to be tried, and +place myself in your hands.” + + + + +XXXIII. + +The magistrate from Saigon saw his hopes fulfilled, and, thanks to his +promotion, was commissioned to continue the trial which he had so ably +commenced. After the jury had brought in their verdict of guilty, he +sentenced Justin Chevassat, alias Maxime de Brevan, to penal servitude +for life. + +Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, got off with twenty years; and the two +Chevassats escaped with ten years’ solitary confinement. + +The trial of Thomas Elgin, which came on during the same term, revealed +a system of swindling which was so strikingly bold and daring, that it +appeared at first sight almost incredible. It excited especial surprise +when it was found out that he had issued false shares, which he made +Count Ville-Handry buy in, so as to ruin, by the same process, the count +as an individual, and the company over which he presided. He was sent +for twenty years to the penitentiary. + +These scandalous proceedings had one good result. They saved the poor +count; but they revealed, at the same time, such prodigious unfitness +for business, that people began to suspect how dependent he must have +been on his first wife, Henrietta’s mother. He remained, however, +relatively poor. They had made Thomas Elgin refund, and had even +obtained possession of Sarah Brandon’s fortune; but the count was called +upon to make amends for his want of business capacity. When he had +satisfied all his creditors, and handed over to his daughter a part of +her maternal inheritance, he had hardly more than six thousand dollars a +year left. + +Of the whole “band,” Mrs. Brian alone escaped. + +Malgat, having surrendered to justice with the prescribed limits of time +to purge himself, was tried, and the whole process begun anew. But the +trial was naturally a mere form. His own lawyer had very little to +say. The state attorney himself made his defense. After having fully +explained the circumstances which had led the poor cashier to permit +a crime, rather than to commit it himself, the attorney said to the +jury,-- + +“Now, gentlemen, that you have learned what was the wrong of which he is +guilty, you ought also to know how he has expiated his crime. + +“When he left the miserable woman who had ruined him, maddened by grief, +and determined to end his life, Malgat went home. There he found his +sister. + +“She was one of those women who have religiously preserved the domestic +virtues of our forefathers, and who know of no compromise in questions +of honor. + +“She had soon forced her brother to confess his fatal secret, and, +overcoming the horror she naturally felt, she found words, inspired +by her excellent heart, which moved him, and led him to reconsider his +resolve. She told him that suicide was but an additional crime, and that +he was in honor bound to live, so that he might make amends, and restore +the money he had stolen.” + +“Hope began to rise once more in his heart, and filled him with +unexpected energy. And yet what obstacles he had to encounter! How could +he ever hope to return four hundred thousand francs. How should he go +about to earn so much money? and where? How could he do anything, now +that he was compelled to live in concealment? + +“Do you know, gentlemen, what this sister did in her almost sublime +devotion? She had a moderate income from state bonds; she sold them +all, and carried the proceeds to the president of the Mutual Discount +Society, begging him to be patient as to the remainder, and promising +that he should be repaid, capital and interest alike. She asked for +nothing but secrecy; and he pledged himself to secrecy. + +“And from that day, gentlemen of the jury, the brother and the sister +have lived like the poorest laborers, working incessantly, and denying +themselves everything but what was indispensable for life itself. + +“And this day, gentlemen, Malgat owes nothing to the society; he has +paid everything. He fell once; but he has risen again. And this place +in court, where he now sits as a prisoner, will become to him a place of +honor, in which he will recover his position in society, and his honor.” + +Malgat was acquitted. + +The marriage of Henrietta, Countess Ville-Handry, and Lieut. Daniel +Champcey, was celebrated at the Church of St. Clothilda. Daniel’s +groomsmen were Malgat and the old chief surgeon of the frigate +“Conquest.” Several persons noticed that the bride wore, contrary to +usage, a dress of embroidered muslin. It was the robe which Henrietta +had so often covered with her tears, at the time when, having no bread +for the morrow, she had tried to live by the work of her hands. Malgat +had hunted it up, and bought it: the precious dress was his wedding- +gift. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Clique of Gold, by Emile Gaboriau + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLIQUE OF GOLD *** + +***** This file should be named 4604-0.txt or 4604-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/6/0/4604/ + +Produced by David Moynihan; Dagny; John Bickers; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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