diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:15:15 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:15:15 -0700 |
| commit | 1eb2e9f6ba39099d7866ef39962178ec0bd5e4e6 (patch) | |
| tree | 34efb001e9774cd23c226b471df578b97590fa34 /547-h/547-h.htm | |
Diffstat (limited to '547-h/547-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 547-h/547-h.htm | 14740 |
1 files changed, 14740 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/547-h/547-h.htm b/547-h/547-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e07e76d --- /dev/null +++ b/547-h/547-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14740 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Baron Trigault's Vengeance, by Emile Gaboriau + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Baron Trigault's Vengeance, 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: Baron Trigault's Vengeance + Volume 2 (of 2) + +Author: Emile Gaboriau + +Release Date: July 1, 2008 [EBook #547] +Last Updated: September 24, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARON TRIGAULT'S VENGEANCE *** + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + BARON TRIGAULT’S VENGEANCE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Emile Gaboriau + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + A Sequel to<br /> <a + href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/305/305-h/305-h.htm">"The Count’s + Millions"</a> + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkveng"><b>BARON TRIGAULT’S VENGEANCE</b></a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XX. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><a name="linkveng" id="linkveng"></a> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + BARON TRIGAULT’S VENGEANCE + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + Vengeance! that is the first, the only thought, when a man finds himself + victimized, when his honor and fortune, his present and future, are + wrecked by a vile conspiracy! The torment he endures under such + circumstances can only be alleviated by the prospect of inflicting them a + hundredfold upon his persecutors. And nothing seems impossible at the + first moment, when hatred surges in the brain, and the foam of anger rises + to the lips; no obstacle seems insurmountable, or, rather, none are + perceived. But later, when the faculties have regained their equilibrium, + one can measure the distance which separates the dream from reality, the + project from execution. And on setting to work, how many discouragements + arise! The fever of revolt passes by, and the victim wavers. He still + breathes bitter vengeance, but he does not act. He despairs, and asks + himself what would be the good of it? And in this way the success of + villainy is once more assured. + </p> + <p> + Similar despondency attacked Pascal Ferailleur when he awoke for the first + time in the abode where he had hidden himself under the name of Maumejan. + A frightful slander had crushed him to the earth—he could kill his + slanderer, but afterward—? How was he to reach and stifle the + slander itself? As well try to hold a handful of water; as well try to + stay with extended arms the progress of the poisonous breeze which wafts + an epidemic on its wings. So the hope that had momentarily lightened his + heart faded away again. Since he had received that fatal letter from + Madame Leon the evening before, he believed that Marguerite was lost to + him forever, and in this case, it was useless to struggle against fate. + What would be the use of victory even if he conquered? Marguerite lost to + him—what did the rest matter? Ah! if he had been alone in the world. + But he had his mother to think of;—he belonged to this brave-hearted + woman, who had saved him from suicide already. “I will not yield, then; I + will struggle on for her sake,” he muttered, like a man who foresees the + futility of his efforts. + </p> + <p> + He rose, and had nearly finished dressing, when he heard a rap at his + chamber door. “It is I, my son,” said Madame Ferailleur outside. + </p> + <p> + Pascal hastened to admit her. “I have come for you because the woman you + spoke about last evening is already here, and before employing her, I want + your advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the woman doesn’t please you, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to see her.” + </p> + <p> + On entering the little parlor with his mother, Pascal found himself in the + presence of a portly, pale-faced woman, with thin lips and restless eyes, + who bowed obsequiously. It was indeed Madame Vantrasson, the landlady of + the model lodging-house, who was seeking employment for the three or four + hours which were at her disposal in the morning, she said. It certainly + was not for pleasure that she had decided to go out to service again; her + dignity suffered terribly by this fall—but then the stomach has to + be cared for. Tenants were not numerous at the model lodging-house, in + spite of its seductive title; and those who slept there occasionally, + almost invariably succeeded in stealing something. Nor did the grocery + store pay; the few half-pence which were left there occasionally in + exchange for a glass of liquor were pocketed by Vantrasson, who spent them + at some neighboring establishment; for it is a well-known fact that the + wine a man drinks in his own shop is always bitter in flavor. So, having + no credit at the butcher’s or the baker’s, Madame Vantrasson was sometimes + reduced to living for days together upon the contents of the shop—mouldy + figs or dry raisins—which she washed down with torrents of ratafia, + her only consolation here below. + </p> + <p> + But this was not a satisfying diet, as she was forced to confess; so she + decided to find some work, that would furnish her with food and a little + money, which she vowed she would never allow her worthy husband to see. + </p> + <p> + “What would you charge per month?” inquired Pascal. + </p> + <p> + She seemed to reflect, and after a great deal of counting on her fingers, + she finally declared that she would be content with breakfast and fifteen + francs a month, on condition she was allowed to do the marketing. The + first question of French cooks, on presenting themselves for a situation, + is almost invariably, “Shall I do the marketing?” which of course means, + “Shall I have any opportunities for stealing?” Everybody knows this, and + nobody is astonished at it. + </p> + <p> + “I shall do the marketing myself,” declared Madame Ferailleur, boldly. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall want thirty francs a month,” replied Madame Vantrasson, + promptly. + </p> + <p> + Pascal and his mother exchanged glances. They were both unfavorably + impressed by this woman, and were equally determined to rid themselves of + her, which it was easy enough to do. “Too dear!” said Madame Ferailleur; + “I have never given over fifteen francs.” + </p> + <p> + But Madame Vantrasson was not the woman to be easily discouraged, + especially as she knew that if she failed to obtain this situation, she + might have considerable difficulty in finding another one. She could only + hope to obtain employment from strangers and newcomers, who were ignorant + of the reputation of the model lodging-house. So in view of softening the + hearts of Pascal and his mother, she began to relate the history of her + life, skilfully mingling the false with the true, and representing herself + as an unfortunate victim of circumstances, and the inhuman cruelty of + relatives. For she belonged, like her husband, to a very respectable + family, as the Maumejans might easily ascertain by inquiry. Vantrasson’s + sister was the wife of a man named Greloux, who had once been a bookbinder + in the Rue Saint-Denis, but who had now retired from business with a + competency. “Why had this Greloux refused to save them from bankruptcy? + Because one could never hope for a favor from relatives,” she groaned; + “they are jealous if you succeed; and if you are unfortunate, they cast + you off.” + </p> + <p> + However, these doleful complaints, far from rendering Madame Vantrasson + interesting, imparted a deceitful and most disagreeable expression to her + countenance. “I told you that I could only give fifteen francs,” + interrupted Madame Ferailleur—“take it or leave it.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Vantrasson protested. She expressed her willingness to deduct five + francs from the sum she had named, but more—it was impossible! Would + they haggle over ten francs to secure such a treasure as herself, an + honest, settled woman, who was entirely devoted to her employers? + “Besides, I have been a grand cook in my time,” she added, “and I have not + lost all my skill. Monsieur and madame would be delighted with my cooking, + for I have seen more than one fine gentleman smack his lips over my sauces + when was in the employment of the Count de Chalusse.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal and his mother could not repress a start on hearing this name; but + it was in a tone of well-assumed indifference that Madame Ferailleur + repeated, “M. de Chalusse?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame—a count—and so rich that he didn’t know how much + he was worth. If he were still alive I shouldn’t be compelled to go out to + service again. But he’s dead and he’s to be buried this very day.” And + with an air of profound secrecy, she added: “On going yesterday to the + Hotel de Chalusse to ask for a little help, I heard of the great + misfortune. Vantrasson, my husband, accompanied me, and while we were + talking with the concierge, a young woman passed through the hall, and he + recognized her as a person who some time ago was—well—no + better than she should be. Now, however, she’s a young lady as lofty as + the clouds, and the deceased count has been passing her off as his + daughter. Ah! this is a strange world.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal had become whiter than the ceiling. His eyes blazed; and Madame + Ferailleur trembled. “Very well,” she said, “I will give you twenty-five + francs—but on condition you come without complaining if I sometimes + require your services of an evening. On these occasions I will give you + your dinner.” And taking five francs from her pocket she placed them in + Madame Vantrasson’s hand, adding: “Here is your earnest money.” + </p> + <p> + The other quickly pocketed the coin, not a little surprised by this sudden + decision which she had scarcely hoped for, and which she by no means + understood. Still she was so delighted with this denouement that she + expressed her willingness to enter upon her duties at once; and to get rid + of her Madame Ferailleur was obliged to send her out to purchase the + necessary supplies for breakfast. Then, as soon as she was alone with her + son, she turned to him and asked: “Well, Pascal?” + </p> + <p> + But the wretched man seemed turned to stone, and seeing that he neither + spoke nor moved, she continued in a severe tone: “Is this the way you keep + your resolutions and your oaths! You express your intention of + accomplishing a task which requires inexhaustible patience and + dissimulation, and at the very first unforeseen circumstance your coolness + deserts you, and you lose your head completely. If it had not been for me + you would have betrayed yourself in that woman’s presence. You must + renounce your revenge, and tamely submit to be conquered by the Marquis de + Valorsay if your face is to be an open book in which any one may read your + secret plans and thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal shook his head dejectedly. “Didn’t you hear, mother?” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Hear what?” + </p> + <p> + “What that vile woman said? This young lady whom she spoke of, whom her + husband recognized, can be none other than Marguerite.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + He recoiled in horror. “You are sure of it!” he repeated; “and you can + tell me this unmoved—coldly, as if it were a natural, a possible + thing. Didn’t you understand the shameful meaning of her insinuations? + Didn’t you see her hypocritical smile and the malice gleaming in her + eyes?” He pressed his hands to his burning brow, and groaned “And I did + not crush the infamous wretch! I did not fell her to the ground!” + </p> + <p> + Ah! if she had obeyed the impulse of her heart. Madame Ferailleur would + have thrown her arms round her son’s neck, and have mingled her tears with + his, but reason prevailed. The worthy woman’s heart was pervaded with that + lofty sentiment of duty which sustains the humble heroines of the + fireside, and lends them even more courage than the reckless adventurers + whose names are recorded by history could boast of. She felt that Pascal + must not be consoled, but spurred on to fresh efforts; and so mustering + all her courage, she said: “Are you acquainted with Mademoiselle + Marguerite’s past life? No. You only know that hers has been a life of + great vicissitudes—and so it is not strange that she should be + slandered.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, mother,” said Pascal, “you were wrong to interrupt Madame + Vantrasson. She would probably have told us many things.” + </p> + <p> + “I interrupted her, it is true, and sent her away—and you know why. + But she is in our service now; and when you are calm, when you have + regained your senses, nothing will prevent you from questioning her. It + may be useful for you to know who this man Vantrasson is, and how and + where he met Mademoiselle Marguerite.” + </p> + <p> + Shame, sorrow, and rage, brought tears to Pascal’s eyes. “My God!” he + exclaimed, “to be reduced to the unspeakable misery of hearing my mother + doubt Marguerite!” He did not doubt her. HE could have listened to the + most infamous accusations against her without feeling a single doubt. + However, Madame Ferailleur had sufficient self-control to shrug her + shoulders. “Ah, well! silence this slander,” she exclaimed. “I wish for + nothing better; but don’t forget that we have ourselves to rehabilitate. + To crush your enemies will be far more profitable to Mademoiselle + Marguerite than vain threats and weak lamentations. It seemed to me that + you had sworn to act, not to complain.” + </p> + <p> + This ironical thrust touched Pascal’s sensitive mind to the quick; he rose + at once to his feet, and coldly said, “That’s true. I thank you for having + recalled me to myself.” + </p> + <p> + She made no rejoinder, but mentally thanked God. She had read her son’s + heart, and perceiving his hesitation and weakness she had supplied the + stimulus he needed. Now she saw him as she wished to see him. Now he was + ready to reproach himself for his lack of courage and his weakness in + displaying his feelings. And as a test of his powers of endurance, he + decided not to question Madame Vantrasson till four or five days had + elapsed. If her suspicions had been aroused, this delay would suffice to + dispel them. + </p> + <p> + He said but little during breakfast; for he was now eager to commence the + struggle. He longed to act, and yet he scarcely knew how to begin the + campaign. First of all, he must study the enemy’s position—gain some + knowledge of the men he had to deal with, find out exactly who the Marquis + de Valorsay and the Viscount de Coralth were. Where could he obtain + information respecting these two men? Should he be compelled to follow + them and to gather up here and there such scraps of intelligence as came + in his way? This method of proceeding would be slow and inconvenient in + the extreme. He was revolving the subject in his mind when he suddenly + remembered the man who, on the morning that followed the scene at Madame + d’Argeles’s house, had come to him in the Rue d’Ulm to give him a proof of + his confidence. He remembered that this strange man had said: “If you ever + need a helping hand, come to me.” And at the recollection he made up his + mind. “I am going to Baron Trigault’s,” he remarked to his mother; “if my + presentiments don’t deceive me, he will be of service to us.” + </p> + <p> + In less than half an hour he was on his way. He had dressed himself in the + oldest clothes he possessed; and this, with the change he had made by + cutting off his hair and beard, had so altered his appearance that it was + necessary to look at him several times, and most attentively, to recognize + him. The visiting cards which he carried in his pocket bore the + inscription: “P. Maumejan, Business Agent, Route de la Revolte.” His + knowledge of Parisian life had induced him to choose the same profession + as M. Fortunat followed—a profession which opens almost every door. + “I will enter the nearest cafe and ask for a directory,” he said to + himself. “I shall certainly find Baron Trigault’s address in it.” + </p> + <p> + The baron lived in the Rue de la Ville-l’Eveque. His mansion was one of + the largest and most magnificent in the opulent district of the Madeleine, + and its aspect was perfectly in keeping with its owner’s character as an + expert financier, and a shrewd manufacturer, the possessor of valuable + mines. The marvellous luxury so surprised Pascal, that he asked himself + how the owner of this princely abode could find any pleasure at the gaming + table of the Hotel d’Argeles. Five or six footmen were lounging about the + courtyard when he entered it. He walked straight up to one of them, and + with his hat in his hand, asked: “Baron Trigault, if you please?” + </p> + <p> + If he had asked for the Grand Turk the valet would not have looked at him + with greater astonishment. His surprise, indeed, seemed so profound that + Pascal feared he had made some mistake and added: “Doesn’t he live here?” + </p> + <p> + The servant laughed heartily. “This is certainly his house,” he replied, + “and strange to say, by some fortunate chance, he’s here.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to speak with him on business.” + </p> + <p> + The servant called one of his colleagues. “Eh! Florestan—is the + baron receiving?” + </p> + <p> + “The baroness hasn’t forbidden it.” + </p> + <p> + This seemed to satisfy the footman; for, turning to Pascal he said: “In + that case, you can follow me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + The sumptuous interior of the Trigault mansion was on a par with its + external magnificence. Even the entrance bespoke the lavish millionaire, + eager to conquer difficulties, jealous of achieving the impossible, and + never haggling when his fancies were concerned. The spacious hall, paved + with costly mosaics, had been transformed into a conservatory full of + flowers, which were renewed every morning. Rare plants climbed the walls + up gilded trellis work, or hung from the ceiling in vases of rare old + china, while from among the depths of verdure peered forth exquisite + statues, the work of sculptors of renown. On a rustic bench sat a couple + of tall footmen, as bright in their gorgeous liveries as gold coins fresh + from the mint; still, despite their splendor, they were stretching and + yawning to such a degree, that it seemed as if they would ultimately + dislocate their jaws and arms. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” inquired the servant who was escorting Pascal, “can any one + speak to the baron?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “This gentleman has something to say to him.” + </p> + <p> + The two valets eyed the unknown visitor, plainly considering him to be one + of those persons who have no existence for the menials of fashionable + establishments, and finally burst into a hearty laugh. “Upon my word!” + exclaimed the eldest, “he’s just in time. Announce him, and madame will be + greatly obliged to you. She and monsieur have been quarrelling for a good + half-hour. And, heavenly powers, isn’t he tantalizing!” + </p> + <p> + The most intense curiosity gleamed in the eyes of Pascal’s conductor, and + with an airy of secrecy, he asked: “What is the cause of the rumpus? That + Fernand, no doubt—or some one else?” + </p> + <p> + “No; this morning it’s about M. Van Klopen.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame’s dressmaker?” + </p> + <p> + “The same. Monsieur and madame were breakfasting together—a most + unusual thing—when M. Van Klopen made his appearance. I thought to + myself, when I admitted him: ‘Look out for storms!’ I scented one in the + air, and in fact the dressmaker hadn’t been in the room five minutes + before we heard the baron’s voice rising higher and higher. I said to + myself: ‘Whew! the mantua-maker is presenting his bill!’ Madame cried and + went on like mad; but, pshaw! when the master really begins, there’s no + one like him. There isn’t a cab-driver in Paris who’s his equal for + swearing.” + </p> + <p> + “And M. Van Klopen?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’s used to such scenes! When gentlemen abuse him he does the same + as dogs do when they come up out of the water; he just shakes his head and + troubles himself no more about it. He has decidedly the best of the row. + He has furnished the goods, and he’ll have to be paid sooner or later——” + </p> + <p> + “What! hasn’t he been paid then?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know; he’s still here.” + </p> + <p> + A terrible crash of breaking china interrupted this edifying conversation. + “There!” exclaimed one of the footmen, “that’s monsieur; he has smashed + two or three hundred francs’ worth of dishes. He MUST be rich to pay such + a price for his angry fits.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” observed the other, “if I were in monsieur’s place I should be + angry too. Would you let your wife have her dresses fitted on by a man? I + says that it’s indecent. I’m only a servant, but——” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, it’s the fashion. Besides, monsieur does not care about that. A + man who——” + </p> + <p> + He stopped short; in fact, the others had motioned him to be silent. The + baron was surrounded by exceptional servants, and the presence of a + stranger acted as a restraint upon them. For this reason, one of them, + after asking Pascal for his card, opened a door and ushered him into a + small room, saying: “I will go and inform the baron. Please wait here.” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” as he called it, was a sort of smoking-room hung with cashmere of + fantastic design and gorgeous hues, and encircled by a low, cushioned + divan, covered with the same material. A profusion of rare and costly + objects was to be seen on all sides, armor, statuary, pictures, and richly + ornamented weapons. But Pascal, already amazed by the conversation of the + servants, did not think of examining these objects of virtu. Through a + partially open doorway, directly opposite the one he had entered by, came + the sound of loud voices in excited conversation. Baron Trigault, the + baroness, and the famous Van Klopen were evidently in the adjoining room. + It was a woman, the baroness, who was speaking, and the quivering of her + clear and somewhat shrill voice betrayed a violent irritation, which was + only restrained with the greatest difficulty. “It is hard for the wife of + one of the richest men in Paris to see a bill for absolute necessities + disputed in this style,” she was saying. + </p> + <p> + A man’s voice, with a strong Teutonic accent, the voice of Van Klopen, the + Hollander, caught up the refrain. “Yes, strict necessities, one can swear + to that. And if, before flying into a passion, Monsieur le Baron had taken + the trouble to glance over my little bill, he would have seen——” + </p> + <p> + “No more! You bore me to death. Besides I haven’t time to listen to your + nonsense; they are waiting for me to play a game of whist at the club.” + </p> + <p> + This time it was the master of the house, Baron Trigault, who spoke, and + Pascal recognized his voice instantly. + </p> + <p> + “If monsieur would only allow me to read the items. It will take but a + moment,” rejoined Van Klopen. And as if he had construed the oath that + answered him as an exclamation of assent, he began: “In June, a Hungarian + costume with jacket and sash, two train dresses with upper skirts and + trimmings of lace, a Medicis polonaise, a jockey costume, a walking + costume, a riding-habit, two morning-dresses, a Velleda costume, an + evening dress.” + </p> + <p> + “I was obliged to attend the races very frequently during the month of + June,” remarked the baroness. + </p> + <p> + But the illustrious adorner of female loveliness had already resumed his + reading. “In July we have: two morning-jackets, one promenade costume, one + sailor suit, one Watteau shepherdess costume, one ordinary bathing-suit, + with material for parasol and shoes to match, one Pompadour bathing-suit, + one dressing-gown, one close-fitting Medicis mantle, two opera cloaks——” + </p> + <p> + “And I was certainly not the most elegantly attired of the ladies at + Trouville, where I spent the month of July,” interrupted the baroness. + </p> + <p> + “There are but few entries in the month of August,” continued Van Klopen. + “We have: a morning-dress, a travelling-dress, with trimmings——” + And he went on and on, gasping for breath, rattling off the ridiculous + names which he gave to his “creations,” and interrupted every now and then + by the blow of a clinched fist on the table, or by a savage oath. + </p> + <p> + Pascal stood in the smoking-room, motionless with astonishment. He did not + know what surprised him the most, Van Klopen’s impudence in daring to read + such a bill, the foolishness of the woman who had ordered all these + things, or the patience of the husband who was undoubtedly going to pay + for them. At last, after what seemed an interminable enumeration, Van + Klopen exclaimed: “And that’s all!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s all,” repeated the baroness, like an echo. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all!” exclaimed the baron—“that’s all! That is to say, in + four months, at least seven hundred yards of silk, velvet, satin, and + muslin, have been put on this woman’s back!” + </p> + <p> + “The dresses of the present day require a great deal of material. Monsieur + le Baron will understand that flounces, puffs, and ruches——” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally! Total, twenty-seven thousand francs!” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me! Twenty-seven thousand nine hundred and thirty-three francs, + ninety centimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Call it twenty-eight thousand francs then. Ah, well, M. Van Klopen, if + you are ever paid for this rubbish it won’t be by me.” + </p> + <p> + If Van Klopen was expecting this denouement, Pascal wasn’t; in fact, he + was so startled, that an exclamation escaped him which would have betrayed + his presence under almost any other circumstances. What amazed him most + was the baron’s perfect calmness, following, as it did, such a fit of + furious passion, violent enough even to be heard in the vestibule. “Either + he has extraordinary control over himself or this scene conceals some + mystery,” thought Pascal. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the man-milliner continued to urge his claims—but the + baron, instead of replying, only whistled; and wounded by this breach of + good manners, Van Klopen at last exclaimed: “I have had dealings with all + the distinguished men in Europe, and never before did one of them refuse + to pay me for his wife’s toilettes.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well—I don’t pay for them—there’s the difference. Do you + suppose that I, Baron Trigault, that I’ve worked like a negro for twenty + years merely for the purpose of aiding your charming and useful branch of + industry? Gather up your papers, Mr. Ladies’ Tailor. There may be husbands + who believe themselves responsible for their wives’ follies—it’s + quite possible there are—but I’m not made of that kind of stuff. I + allow Madame Trigault eight thousand francs a month for her toilette—that + is sufficient—and it is a matter for you and her to arrange + together. What did I tell you last year when I paid a bill of forty + thousand francs? That I would not be responsible for any more of my wife’s + debts. And I not only said it, I formally notified you through my private + secretary.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember, indeed——” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you come to me with your bill? It is with my wife that you + have opened an account. Apply to her, and leave me in peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame promised me——” + </p> + <p> + “Teach her to keep her promises.” + </p> + <p> + “It costs a great deal to retain one’s position as a leader of fashion; + and many of the most distinguished ladies are obliged to run into debt,” + urged Van Klopen. + </p> + <p> + “That’s their business. But my wife is not a fine lady. She is simply + Madame Trigault, a baroness, thanks to her husband’s gold and the + condescension of a worthy German prince, who was in want of money. SHE is + not a person of consequence—she has no rank to keep up.” + </p> + <p> + The baroness must have attached immense importance to the satisfying of + Van Klopen’s demands, for concealing the anger this humiliating scene + undoubtedly caused her, she condescended to try and explain, and even to + entreat. “I have been a little extravagant, perhaps,” she said; “but I + will be more prudent in future. Pay, monsieur—pay just once more.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “If not for my sake, for your own.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a farthing.” + </p> + <p> + By the baron’s tone, Pascal realized that his wife would never shake his + fixed determination. Such must also have been the opinion of the + illustrious ruler of fashion, for he returned to the charge with an + argument he had held in reserve. “If this is the case, I shall, to my + great regret, be obliged to fail in the respect I owe to Monsieur le + Baron, and to place this bill in the hands of a solicitor.” + </p> + <p> + “Send him along—send him along.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot believe that monsieur wishes a law-suit.” + </p> + <p> + “In that you are greatly mistaken. Nothing would please me better. It + would at last give me an opportunity to say what I think about your + dealings. Do you think that wives are to turn their husbands into machines + for supplying money? You draw the bow-string too tightly, my dear fellow—it + will break. I’ll proclaim on the house-top what others dare not say, and + we’ll see if I don’t succeed in organizing a little crusade against you.” + And animated by the sound of his own words, his anger came back to him, + and in a louder and ever louder voice he continued: “Ah! you prate of the + scandal that would be created by my resistance to your demands. That’s + your system; but, with me, it won’t succeed. You threaten me with a + law-suit; very good. I’ll take it upon myself to enlighten Paris, for I + know your secrets, Mr. Dressmaker. I know the goings on in your + establishment. It isn’t always to talk about dress that ladies stop at + your place on returning from the Bois. You sell silks and satins no doubt; + but you sell Madeira, and excellent cigarettes as well, and there are some + who don’t walk very straight on leaving your establishment, but smell + suspiciously of tobacco and absinthe. Oh, yes, let us go to law, by all + means! I shall have an advocate who will know how to explain the parts + your customers pay, and who will reveal how, with your assistance, they + obtain money from other sources than their husband’s cash-box.” + </p> + <p> + When M. Van Klopen was addressed in this style, he was not at all pleased. + “And I!” he exclaimed, “I will tell people that Baron Trigault, after + losing all his money at play, repays his creditors with curses.” + </p> + <p> + The noise of an overturned chair told Pascal that the baron had sprung up + in a furious passion “You may say what you like, you rascally fool! but + not in my house,” he shouted. “Leave—leave, or I will ring——” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur——” + </p> + <p> + “Leave, leave, I tell you, or I sha’n’t have the patience to wait for a + servant!” + </p> + <p> + He must have joined action to word, and have seized Van Klopen by the + collar to thrust him into the hall, for Pascal heard a sound of scuffling, + a series of oaths worthy of a coal-heaver, two or three frightened cries + from the baroness, and several guttural exclamations in German. Then a + door closed with such violence that the whole house shook, and a + magnificent clock, fixed to the wall of the smoking-room, fell on to the + floor. + </p> + <p> + If Pascal had not heard this scene, he would have deemed it incredible. + How could one suppose that a creditor would leave this princely mansion + with his bill unpaid? But more and more clearly he understood that there + must be some greater cause of difference between husband and wife than + this bill of twenty-eight thousand francs. For what was this amount to a + confirmed gambler who, without as much as a frown, gained or lost a + fortune every evening of his life. Evidently there was some skeleton in + this household—one of those terrible secrets which make a man and + his wife enemies, and all the more bitter enemies as they are bound + together by a chain which it is impossible to break. And undoubtedly, a + good many of the insults which the baron had heaped upon Van Klopen must + have been intended for the baroness. These thoughts darted through + Pascal’s mind with the rapidity of lightning, and showed him the horrible + position in which he was placed. The baron, who had been so favorably + disposed toward him, and from whom he was expecting a great service, would + undoubtedly hate him, undoubtedly become his enemy, when he learned that + he had been a listener, although an involuntary one, to this conversation + with Van Klopen. How did it happen that he had been placed in this + dangerous position? What had become of the footman who had taken his card? + These were questions which he was unable to answer. And what was he to do? + If he could have retired noiselessly, if he could have reached the + courtyard and have made his escape without being observed he would not + have hesitated. But was this plan practicable? And would not his card + betray him? Would it not be discovered sooner or later that he had been in + the smoking-room while M. Van Klopen was in the dining-room? In any case, + delicacy of feeling as well as his own interest forbade him to remain any + longer a listener to the private conversation of the baron and his wife. + </p> + <p> + He therefore noisily moved a chair, and coughed in that affected style + which means in every country: “Take care—I’m here!” But he did not + succeed in attracting attention. And yet the silence was profound; he + could distinctly hear the creaking of the baron’s boots, as he paced to + and fro, and the sound of fingers nervously beating a tattoo on the table. + If he desired to avoid hearing the confidential conversation, which would + no doubt ensue between the baron and his wife, there was but one course + for him to pursue, and that was to reveal his presence at once. He was + about to do so, when some one opened a door which must have led from the + hall into the dining-room. He listened attentively, but only heard a few + confused words, to which the baron replied: “Very well. That’s sufficient. + I will see him in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal breathed freely once more. “They have just given him my card,” he + thought. “I can remain now; he will come here in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + The baron must really have started to leave the room, for his wife + exclaimed: “One word more: have you quite decided?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fully!” + </p> + <p> + “You are resolved to leave me exposed to the persecutions of my + dressmaker?” + </p> + <p> + “Van Klopen is too charming and polite to cause you the least worry.” + </p> + <p> + “You will brave the disgrace of a law-suit?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! You know very well that he won’t bring any action against me—unfortunately. + And, besides, pray tell me where the disgrace would be? I have a foolish + wife—is that my fault? I oppose her absurd extravagance—haven’t + I a right to do so? If all husbands were as courageous, we should soon + close the establishments of these artful men, who minister to your vanity, + and use you ladies as puppets, or living advertisements, to display the + absurd fashions which enrich them.” + </p> + <p> + The baron took two or three more steps forward, as if about to leave the + room, but his wife interposed: “The Baroness Trigault, whose husband has + an income of seven or eight hundred thousand francs a year, can’t go about + clad like a simple woman of the middle classes.” + </p> + <p> + “I should see nothing so very improper in that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know. Only your ideas don’t coincide with mine. I shall never + consent to make myself ridiculous among the ladies of my set—among + my friends.” + </p> + <p> + “It would indeed be a pity to arouse the disapproval of your friends.” + </p> + <p> + This sneering remark certainly irritated the baroness, for it was with the + greatest vehemence that she replied: “All my friends are ladies of the + highest rank in society—noble ladies!” + </p> + <p> + The baron no doubt shrugged his shoulders, for in a tone of crushing irony + and scorn, he exclaimed: “Noble ladies! whom do you call noble ladies, + pray? The brainless fools who only think of displaying themselves and + making themselves notorious?—the senseless idiots who pique + themselves on surpassing lewd women in audacity, extravagance, and + effrontery, who fleece their husbands as cleverly as courtesans fleece + their lovers? Noble ladies! who drink, and smoke, and carouse, who attend + masked balls, and talk slang! Noble ladies! the idiots who long for the + applause of the crowd, and consider notoriety to be desirable and + flattering. A woman is only noble by her virtues—and the chief of + all virtues, modesty, is entirely wanting in your illustrious friends——” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” interrupted the baroness, in a voice husky with anger, “you + forget yourself—you——” + </p> + <p> + But the baron was well under way. “If it is scandal that crowns one a + great lady, you ARE one—and one of the greatest; for you are + notorious—almost as notorious as Jenny Fancy. Can’t I learn from the + newspapers all your sayings and gestures, your amusements, your + occupations, and the toilettes you wear? It is impossible to read of a + first performance at a theatre, or of a horse-race, without finding your + name coupled with that of Jenny Fancy, or Cora Pearl, or Ninette Simplon. + I should be a very strange husband indeed, if I wasn’t proud and + delighted. Ah! you are a treasure to the reporters. On the day before + yesterday the Baroness Trigault skated in the Bois. Yesterday she was + driving in her pony-carriage. To-day she distinguished herself by her + skill at pigeon-shooting. To-morrow she will display herself half nude in + some tableaux vivants. On the day after to-morrow she will inaugurate a + new style of hair-dressing, and take part in a comedy. It is always the + Baroness Trigault who is the observed of all observers at Vincennes. The + Baroness Trigault has lost five hundred louis in betting. The Baroness + Trigault uses her lorgnette with charming impertinence. It is she who has + declared it proper form to take a ‘drop’ on returning from the Bois. No + one is so famed for ‘form,’ as the baroness—and silk merchants have + bestowed her name upon a color. People rave of the Trigault blue—what + glory! There are also costumes Trigault, for the witty, elegant baroness + has a host of admirers who follow her everywhere, and loudly sing her + praises. This is what I, a plain, honest man, read every day in the + newspapers. The whole world not only knows how my wife dresses, but how + she looks en dishabille, and how she is formed; folks are aware that she + has an exquisite foot, a divinely-shaped leg, and a perfect hand. No one + is ignorant of the fact that my wife’s shoulders are of dazzling + whiteness, and that high on the left shoulder there is a most enticing + little mole. I had the satisfaction of reading this particular last + evening. It is charming, upon my word! and I am truly a fortunate man!” + </p> + <p> + In the smoking-room, Pascal could hear the baroness angrily stamp her + foot, as she exclaimed: “It is an outrageous insult—your journalists + are most impertinent.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Do they ever trouble honest women?” + </p> + <p> + “They wouldn’t trouble me if I had a husband who knew how to make them + treat me with respect!” + </p> + <p> + The baron laughed a strident, nervous laugh, which it was not pleasant to + hear, and which revealed the fact that intense suffering was hidden + beneath all this banter. “Would you like me to fight a duel then? After + twenty years has the idea of ridding yourself of me occurred to you again? + I can scarcely believe it. You know too well that you would receive none + of my money, that I have guarded against that. Besides, you would be + inconsolable if the newspapers ceased talking about you for a single day. + Respect yourself, and you will be respected. The publicity you complain of + is the last anchor which prevents society from drifting one knows not + where. Those who would not listen to the warning voice of honor and + conscience are restrained by the fear of a little paragraph which might + disclose their shame. Now that a woman no longer has a conscience, the + newspapers act in place of it. And I think it quite right, for it is our + only hope of salvation.” + </p> + <p> + By the stir in the adjoining room, Pascal felt sure that the baroness had + stationed herself before the door to prevent her husband from leaving her. + “Ah! well, monsieur,” she exclaimed, “I declare to you that I must have + Van Klopen’s twenty-eight thousand francs before this evening. I will have + them, too; I am resolved to have them, and you will give them to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” thundered the baron, “you WILL have them—you will——” + He paused, and then, after a moment’s reflection, he said: “Very well. So + be it! I will give you this amount, but not just now. Still if, as you + say, it is absolutely necessary that you should have it to-day, there is a + means of procuring it. Pawn your diamonds for thirty thousand francs—I + authorize you to do so; and I give you my word of honor that I will redeem + them within a week. Say, will you do this?” And, as the baroness made no + reply, he continued: “You don’t answer! shall I tell you why? It is + because your diamonds were long since sold and replaced by imitation ones; + it is because you are head over heels in debt; it is because you have + stooped so low as to borrow your maid’s savings; it is because you already + owe three thousand francs to one of my coachmen; it is because our steward + lends you money at the rate of thirty or forty per cent.” + </p> + <p> + “It is false!” + </p> + <p> + The baron sneered. “You certainly must think me a much greater fool than I + really am!” he replied. “I’m not often at home, it’s true—the sight + of you exasperates me; but I know what’s going on. You believe me your + dupe, but you are altogether mistaken. It is not twenty-seven thousand + francs you owe Van Klopen, but fifty or sixty thousand. However, he is + careful not to demand payment. If he brought me a bill this morning, it + was only because you had begged him to do so, and because it had been + agreed he should give you the money back if I paid him. In short, if you + require twenty-eight thousand francs before to-night, it is because M. + Fernand de Coralth has demanded that sum, and because you have promised to + give it to him!” + </p> + <p> + Leaning against the wall of the smoking-room, speechless and motionless, + holding his breath, with his hands pressed upon his heart, as if to stop + its throbbings, Pascal Ferailleur listened. He no longer thought of + flying; he no longer thought of reproaching himself for his enforced + indiscretion. He had lost all consciousness of his position. The name of + the Viscount de Coralth, thus mentioned in the course of this frightful + scene, came as a revelation to him. He now understood the meaning of the + baron’s conduct. His visit to the Rue d’Ulm, and his promises of help were + all explained. “My mother was right,” he thought; “the baron hates that + miserable viscount mortally. He will do all in his power to assist me.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the baroness energetically denied her husband’s charges. She + swore that she did not know what he meant. What had M. de Coralth to do + with all this? She commanded her husband to speak more plainly—to + explain his odious insinuations. + </p> + <p> + He allowed her to speak for a moment, and then suddenly, in a harsh, + sarcastic voice, he interrupted her by saying: “Oh! enough! No more + hypocrisy! Why do you try to defend yourself? What matters one crime more? + I know only too well that what I say is true; and if you desire proofs, + they shall be in your hands in less than half an hour. It is a long time + since I was blind—full twenty years! Nothing concerning you has + escaped my knowledge and observation since the cursed day when I + discovered the depths of your disgrace and infamy—since the terrible + evening when I heard you plan to murder me in cold blood. You had grown + accustomed to freedom of action; while I, who had gone off with the first + gold-seekers, was braving a thousand dangers in California, so as to win + wealth and luxury for you more quickly. Fool that I was! No task seemed + too hard or too distasteful when I thought of you—and I was always + thinking of you. My mind was at peace—I had perfect faith in you. We + had a daughter; and if a fear or a doubt entered my mind, I told myself + that the sight of her cradle would drive all evil thoughts from your + heart. The adultery of a childless wife may be forgiven or explained; but + that of a mother, never! Fool! idiot! that I was! With what joyous pride, + on my return after an absence of eighteen months, I showed you the + treasures I had brought back with me! I had two hundred thousand francs! I + said to you as I embraced you: ‘It is yours, my well-beloved, the source + of all my happiness!’ But you did not care for me—I wearied you! You + loved another! And while you were deceiving me with your caresses, you + were, with fiendish skill, preparing a conspiracy which, if it had + succeeded, would have resulted in my death! I should consider myself amply + revenged if I could make you suffer for a single day all the torments that + I endured for long months. For this was not all! You had not even the + excuse, if excuse it be, of a powerful, all-absorbing passion. Convinced + of your treachery, I resolved to ascertain everything, and I discovered + that in my absence you had become a mother. Why didn’t I kill you? How did + I have the courage to remain silent and conceal what I knew? Ah! it was + because, by watching you, I hoped to discover the cursed bastard and your + accomplice. It was because I dreamed of a vengeance as terrible as the + offence. I said to myself that the day would come when, at any risk, you + would try to see your child again, to embrace her, and provide for her + future. Fool! fool that I was! You had already forgotten her! When you + received news of my intended return, she was sent to some foundling + asylum, or left to die upon some door-step. Have you ever thought of her? + Have you ever asked what has become of her? ever asked yourself if she had + needed bread while you have been living in almost regal luxury? ever asked + yourself into what depths of vice she may have fallen?” + </p> + <p> + “Always the same ridiculous accusation!” exclaimed the baroness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, always!” + </p> + <p> + “You must know, however, that this story of a child is only a vile + slander. I told you so when you spoke of it to me a dozen years afterward. + I have repeated it a thousand times since.” + </p> + <p> + The baron uttered a sigh that was very like a sob, and without paying any + heed to his wife’s words, he continued: “If I consented to allow you to + remain under my roof, it was only for the sake of our daughter. I trembled + lest the scandal of a separation should fall upon her. But it was useless + suffering on my part. She was as surely lost as you yourself were; and it + was your work, too!” + </p> + <p> + “What! you blame me for that?” + </p> + <p> + “Whom ought I to blame, then? Who took her to balls, and theatres and + races—to every place where a young girl ought NOT to be taken? Who + initiated her into what you call high life? and who used her as a discreet + and easy chaperon? Who married her to a wretch who is a disgrace to the + title he bears, and who has completed the work of demoralization you + began? And what is your daughter to-day? Her extravagance has made her + notorious even among the shameless women who pretend to be leaders of + society. She is scarcely twenty-two, and there is not a single prejudice + left for her to brave! Her husband is the companion of actresses and + courtesans; her own companions are no better—and in less than two + years the million of francs which I bestowed on her as a dowry has been + squandered, recklessly squandered—for there isn’t a penny of it + left. And, at this very hour, my daughter and my son-in-law are plotting + to extort money from me. On the day before yesterday—listen + carefully to this—my son-in-law came to ask me for a hundred + thousand francs, and when I refused them, he threatened if I did not give + them to him that he would publish some letters written by my daughter—by + his wife—to some low scoundrel. I was horrified and gave him what he + asked. But that same evening I learned that the husband and wife, my + daughter and my son-in-law, had concocted this vile conspiracy together. + Yes, I have positive proofs of it. Leaving here, and not wishing to return + home that day, he telegraphed the good news to his wife. But in his + delight he made a mistake in the address, and the telegram was brought + here. I opened it, and read: ‘Papa has fallen into the trap, my darling. I + beat my drum, and he surrendered at once.’ Yes, that is what he dared to + write, and sign with his own name, and then send to his wife—my + daughter!” + </p> + <p> + Pascal was absolutely terrified. He wondered if he were not the victim of + some absurd nightmare—if his senses were not playing him false. He + had little conception of the terrible dramas which are constantly enacted + in these superb mansions, so admired and envied by the passing crowd. He + thought that the baroness would be crushed—that she would fall on + her knees before her husband. What a mistake! The tone of her voice told + him that, instead of yielding, she was only bent on retaliation. + </p> + <p> + “Does your son-in-law do anything worse than you?” she exclaimed. “How + dare you censure him—you who drag your name through all the gambling + dens of Europe?” + </p> + <p> + “Wretch!” interrupted the baron, “wretch!” But quickly mastering himself, + he remarked: “Yes, it’s true that I gamble. People say, ‘That great Baron + Trigault is never without cards in his hands!’ But you know very well that + I really hold gambling in horror—that I loathe it. But when I play, + I sometimes forget—for I must forget. I tried drink, but it wouldn’t + drown thought, so I had recourse to cards; and when the stakes are large, + and my fortune is imperilled, I sometimes lose consciousness of my + misery!” + </p> + <p> + The baroness gave vent to a cold, sneering laugh, and, in a tone of + mocking commiseration, she said: “Poor baron! It is no doubt in the hope + of forgetting your sorrows that you spend all your time—when you are + not gambling—with a woman named Lia d’Argeles. She’s rather pretty. + I have seen her several times in the Bois——” + </p> + <p> + “Be silent!” exclaimed the baron, “be silent! Don’t insult an unfortunate + woman who is a thousand times better than yourself.” And, feeling that he + could endure no more—that he could no longer restrain his passion, + he cried: “Out of my sight! Go! or I sha’n’t be responsible for my acts!” + </p> + <p> + Pascal heard a chair move, the floor creak, and a moment afterward a lady + passed quickly through the smoking-room. How was it that she did not + perceive him? No doubt, because she was greatly agitated, in spite of her + bravado. And, besides, he was standing a little back in the shade. But he + saw her, and his brain reeled. “Good Lord! what a likeness!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. + </h2> + <p> + It was as if he had seen an apparition, and he was vainly striving to + drive away a terrible, mysterious fear, when a heavy footfall made the + floor of the dining-room creak anew. The noise restored him to + consciousness of his position. “It is the baron!” he thought; “he is + coming this way! If he finds me here I am lost; he will never consent to + help me. A man would never forgive another man for hearing what I have + just heard.” + </p> + <p> + Why should he not try to make his escape? The card, bearing the name of + Maumejan, would be no proof of his visit. He could see the baron somewhere + else some other day—elsewhere than at his own house, so that he need + not fear the recognition of the servants. These thoughts flashed through + his mind, and he was about to fly, when a harsh cry held him spell-bound. + Baron Trigault was standing on the threshold. His emotion, as is almost + always the case with corpulent people, was evinced by a frightful + distortion of his features. His face was transformed, his lips had become + perfectly white, and his eyes seemed to be starting from their sockets. + “How came you here?” he asked, in a husky voice. + </p> + <p> + “Your servants ushered me into this room.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “What! monsieur, don’t you recognize me?” rejoined Pascal, who in his + agitation forgot that the baron had seen him only twice before. He forgot + the absence of his beard, his almost ragged clothing, and all the + precautions he had taken to render recognition impossible. + </p> + <p> + “I have never met any person named Maumejan,” said the baron. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! monsieur, that’s not my name. Have you forgotten the innocent man who + was caught in that infamous snare set for him by the Viscount de Coralth?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” replied the baron, “I remember you now.” And then recollecting + the terrible scene that had just taken place in the adjoining room: “How + long have you been here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Should Pascal tell a falsehood, or confess the truth? He hesitated, but + his hesitation lasted scarcely the tenth part of a second. “I have been + here about half an hour,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + The baron’s livid cheeks suddenly became purple, his eyes glittered, and + it seemed by his threatening gesture as if he were strongly tempted to + murder this man, who had discovered the terrible, disgraceful secrets of + his domestic life. But it was a mere flash of energy. The terrible ordeal + which he had just passed through had exhausted him mentally and + physically, and it was in a faltering voice that he resumed: “Then you + have not lost a word—a word of what was said in the other room?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word.” + </p> + <p> + The baron sank on to the divan. “So the knowledge of my disgrace is no + longer confined to myself!” he exclaimed. “A stranger’s eye has penetrated + the depths of misery I have fallen into! The secret of my wretchedness and + shame is mine no longer!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, monsieur, monsieur!” interrupted Pascal. “Before I recross the + threshold of your home, all shall have been forgotten. I swear it by all + that is most sacred!” + </p> + <p> + He had raised his hand as if to take a solemn oath, when the baron caught + hold of it, and, pressing it with sorrowful gratitude, exclaimed: “I + believe you! You are a man of honor—I only needed to see your home + to be convinced of that. You will not laugh at my misfortunes or my + misery!” He must have been suffering frightfully, for big tears rolled + slowly down his cheeks. “What have I done, my God! that I should be so + cruelly punished?” he continued. “I have always been generous and + charitable, and ready to help all who applied to me. I am utterly alone! I + have a wife and a daughter—but they hate me. They long for my death, + which would give them possession of my wealth. What torture! For months + together I dared not eat a morsel of food, either in my own house, or in + the house of my son-in-law. I feared poison; and I never partook of a dish + until I had seen my daughter or my wife do so. To prevent a crime, I was + obliged to resort to the strangest expedients. I made a will, and left my + property in such a way that if I die, my family will not receive one + penny. So, they now have an interest in prolonging my life.” As he spoke + he sprang up with an almost frenzied air, and, seizing Pascal by the arm, + again continued. “Nor is this all! This woman—my wife—you know—you + have heard the extent of her shame and degradation. Ah, well! I—love + her!” + </p> + <p> + Pascal recoiled with an exclamation of mingled horror and consternation. + </p> + <p> + “This amazes you, eh?” rejoined the baron. “It is indeed incomprehensible, + monstrous—but it is the truth. It is to gratify her desire for + luxury that I have toiled to amass millions. If I purchased a title, which + is absurd and ridiculous, it was only because I wished to satisfy her + vanity. Do what she may, I can only see in her the chaste and beautiful + wife of our early married life. It is cowardly, absurd, ridiculous—I + realize it; but my love is stronger than my reason or my will. I love her + madly, passionately; I cannot tear her from my heart!” + </p> + <p> + So speaking, he sank sobbing on to the divan again. Was this, indeed, the + frivolous and jovial Baron Trigault whom Pascal had seen at Madame + d’Argeles’s house—the man of self-satisfied mien and superb + assurance, the good-natured cynic, the frequenter of gambling-dens? Alas, + yes! But the baron whom the world knew was only a comedian; this was the + real man. + </p> + <p> + After a little while he succeeded in controlling his emotion, and in a + comparatively calm voice he exclaimed: “But it is useless to distract + one’s mind with an incurable evil. Let us speak of yourself, M. + Ferailleur. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” + </p> + <p> + “To your own kind offer, monsieur, and the hope that you will help me in + refuting this slander, and wreaking vengeance upon those who have ruined + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, I will help you in that to the full extent of my power,” + exclaimed the baron. But experience reminded him that confidential + disclosures ought not to be made with the doors open, so he rose, shut + them, and returning to Pascal, said: “Explain in what way I can be of + service to you, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + It was not without many misgivings that Pascal had presented himself at + the baron’s house, but after what he had heard he felt no further + hesitation; he could speak with perfect freedom. “It is quite unnecessary + for me to tell you, Monsieur le Baron,” he began, “that the cards which + made me win were inserted in the pack by M. de Coralth—that is + proven beyond question, and whatever the consequences may be, I shall have + my revenge. But before striking him, I wish to reach the man whose + instrument he was.” + </p> + <p> + “What! you suppose——” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t suppose—I am sure that M. de Coralth acted in obedience to + the instructions of some other scoundrel whose courage does not equal his + meanness.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so! I think he would shrink from nothing in the way of rascality. + But who could have employed him in this vile work of dishonoring an honest + man?” + </p> + <p> + “The Marquis de Valorsay.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing this name, the baron bounded to his feet. “Impossible!” he + exclaimed; “absolutely impossible! M. de Valorsay is incapable of the + villainy you ascribe to him. What do I say?—he is even above + suspicion. I have known him for years, and I have never met a more loyal, + more honorable, or more courageous man. He is one of my few trusted + friends; we see each other almost every day. I am expecting a visit from + him even now.” + </p> + <p> + “Still it was he who incited M. de Coralth to do the deed.” + </p> + <p> + “But why? What could have been his object?” + </p> + <p> + “To win a young girl whom I love. She—loved me, and he saw that I + was an obstacle. He put me out of the way more surely than if he had + murdered me. If I died, she might mourn for me—dishonored, she would + spurn me——” + </p> + <p> + “Is Valorsay so madly in love with the girl, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I think he cares but very little for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why——” + </p> + <p> + “She is the heiress of several millions.” + </p> + <p> + It was evident that this explanation did not shake Baron Trigault’s faith + in his friend. “But the marquis has an income of a hundred and fifty or + two hundred thousand francs,” said he; “that is an all-sufficient + justification. With his fortune and his name, he is in a position to + choose his wife from among all the heiresses of France. Why should he + address his attentions in particular to the woman you love? Ah! if he were + poor—if his fortune were impaired—if he felt the need of + regilding his escutcheon, like my son-in-law——” + </p> + <p> + He paused; there was a rap at the door. The baron called out: “Come in,” + and a valet appeared, and informed his master that the Marquis de Valorsay + wished to speak with him. + </p> + <p> + It was the enemy! Pascal’s features were distorted with rage; but he did + not stir—he did not utter a word. “Ask the marquis into the next + room,” said the baron. “I will join him there at once.” Then as the + servant retired, the baron turned to Pascal and said: “Well, M. + Ferailleur, do you divine my intentions?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, monsieur. You probably intend me to hear the conversation you + are going to have with M. de Valorsay.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. I shall leave the door open, and you can listen.” + </p> + <p> + This word, “listen,” was uttered without bitterness, or even reproach; and + yet Pascal could not help blushing and hanging his head. “I wish to prove + to you that your suspicions are without foundation,” pursued the baron. + “Rest assured that I shall prove this conclusively. I will conduct the + conversation in the form of a cross-examination, and after the marquis’s + departure, you will be obliged to confess that you were wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Or you, that I am right?” + </p> + <p> + “So be it. Any one is liable to be mistaken, and I am not obstinate.” + </p> + <p> + He was about to leave the room, when Pascal detained him. “I scarcely know + how to testify my gratitude even now, monsieur, and yet—if I dared—if + I did not fear to abuse your kindness, I should ask one more favor.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, Monsieur Ferailleur.” + </p> + <p> + “It is this, I do not know the Marquis de Valorsay; and if, instead of + leaving the door wide open, you would partially close it, I should hear as + distinctly, and I could also see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed,” replied the baron. And, opening the door, he passed into the + dining-room, with his right hand cordially extended, and saying, in his + most genial tones: “Excuse me, my dear friend, for keeping you waiting. I + received your letter this morning, and I was expecting you, but some + unexpected business required my attention just now. Are you quite well?” + </p> + <p> + As the baron entered the room, the marquis had stepped quickly forward to + meet him. Either he was inspired with fresh hope, or else he had wonderful + powers of self-control, for never had he looked more calm—never had + his face evinced haughtier indifference, more complete satisfaction with + himself, and greater contempt for others. He was dressed with even more + than usual care, and in perfect taste as well; moreover, his valet had + surpassed himself in dressing his hair—for one would have sworn that + his locks were still luxuriant. If he experienced any secret anxiety, it + only showed itself in a slightly increased stiffness of his right leg—the + limb broken in hunting. “I ought rather to inquire concerning your own + health,” he remarked. “You seem greatly disturbed; your cravat is untied.” + And, pointing to the broken china scattered about the floor, he added: “On + seeing this, I asked myself if an accident had not happened.” + </p> + <p> + “The baroness was taken suddenly ill at the breakfast table. Her fainting + fit startled me a little. But it was a mere trifle. She has quite + recovered already, and you may rely upon her applauding your victory at + Vincennes to-day. She has I don’t know how many hundred louis staked upon + your horses.” + </p> + <p> + The marquis’s countenance assumed an expression of cordial regret. “I am + very sorry, upon my word!” he exclaimed. “But I sha’n’t take part in the + races at Vincennes. I have withdrawn my horses. And, in future, I shall + have nothing to do with racing.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “It is the truth, however. I have been led to this determination by the + infamous slander which has been circulated respecting me.” + </p> + <p> + This answer was a mere trifle, but it somewhat shook Baron Trigault’s + confidence. “You have been slandered!” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Abominably. Last Sunday the best horse in my stables, Domingo, came in + third. He was the favorite in the ring. You can understand the rest. I + have been accused of manoeuvering to have my own horse beaten. People have + declared that it was my interest he should be beaten, and that I had an + understanding with my jockey to that effect. This is an every-day + occurrence, I know very well; but, as regards myself, it is none the less + an infamous lie!” + </p> + <p> + “Who has dared to circulate such a report?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how can I tell? It is a fact, however, that the story has been + circulated everywhere, but in such a cautious manner that there is no way + of calling the authors to account. They have even gone so far as to say + that this piece of knavery brought me in an enormous sum, and that I used + Rochecotte’s, Kervaulieu’s, and Coralth’s names in betting against my own + horse.” + </p> + <p> + The baron’s agitation was so great that M. de Valorsay observed it, though + he did not understand the cause. Living in the same society with the + Baroness Trigault, and knowing her story, he thought that Coralth’s name + might, perhaps, have irritated the baron. “And so,” he quickly continued, + “don’t be surprised if, during the coming week, you see the sale of my + horses announced.” + </p> + <p> + “What! you are going to sell——” + </p> + <p> + “All my horses—yes, baron. I have nineteen; and it will be very + strange if I don’t get eight or ten thousand louis for the lot. Domingo + alone is worth more than forty thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + To talk of selling—of realizing something you possess—rings + ominously in people’s ears. The person who talks of selling proclaims his + need of money—and often his approaching ruin. “It will save you at + least a hundred and fifty or sixty thousand francs a year,” observed the + baron. + </p> + <p> + “Double it and you won’t come up to the mark. Ah! my dear baron, you have + yet to learn that there is nothing so ruinous as a racing stable. It’s + worse than gambling; and women, in comparison, are a real economy. Ninette + costs me less than Domingo, with his jockey, his trainer, and his grooms. + My manager declares that the twenty-three thousand francs I won last year, + cost me at least fifty thousand.” + </p> + <p> + Was he boasting, or was he speaking the truth? The baron was engaged in a + rapid calculation. “What does Valorsay spend a year?” he was saying to + himself. “Let us say two hundred and fifty thousand francs for his stable; + forty thousand francs for Ninette Simplon; eighty thousand for his + household expenses, and at least thirty thousand for personal matters, + travelling, and play. All this amounts to something like four hundred and + thirty thousand francs a year. Does his income equal that sum? Certainly + not. Then he must have been living on the principal—he is ruined.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the marquis gayly continued: “You see, I’m going to make a + change in my mode of life. Ah! it surprises you! But one must make an end + of it, sooner or later. I begin to find a bachelor life not so very + pleasant after all; there is rheumatism in prospect, and my digestion is + becoming impaired—in short, I feel that it is time for marriage, + baron; and—I am about to marry.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I. What, haven’t you heard of it, yet? It has been talked of at the + club for three days or more.” + </p> + <p> + “No, this is the first intimation I have received of it. It is true, + however, that I have not been to the club for three days. I have made a + wager with Kami-Bey, you know—that rich Turk—and as our + sittings are eight or ten hours long, we play in his apartments at the + Grand Hotel. And so you are to be married,” the baron continued, after a + slight pause. “Ah, well! I know one person who won’t be pleased.” + </p> + <p> + “Who, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “Ninette Simplon.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay laughed heartily. “As if that would make any difference to + me!” he exclaimed. And then in a most confidential manner he resumed: “She + will soon be consoled. Ninette Simplon is a shrewd girl—a girl whom + I have always suspected of having an account book in place of a heart. I + know she has at least three hundred thousand francs safely invested; her + furniture and diamonds are worth as much more. Why should she regret me? + Add to this that I have promised her fifty thousand francs to dry her + tears with on my wedding-day, and you will understand that she really + longs to see me married.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” replied the baron; “Ninette Simplon won’t trouble you. But + I can’t understand why you should talk of economy on the eve of a marriage + which will no doubt double your fortune; for I’m sure you won’t surrender + your liberty without good and substantial reasons.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + “How mistaken?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I won’t hesitate to confess to you, my dear baron, that the girl I + am about to marry hasn’t a penny of her own. My future wife has no dowry + save her black eyes—but they are certainly superb ones.” + </p> + <p> + This assertion seemed to disprove Pascal’s statements. “Can it really be + you who are talking in this strain?” cried the baron. “You, a practical, + worldly man, give way to such a burst of sentiment?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes.” + </p> + <p> + The baron opened his eyes in astonishment. “Ah! then you adore your future + bride!” + </p> + <p> + “Adore only feebly expresses my feelings.” + </p> + <p> + “I must be dreaming.” + </p> + <p> + Valorsay shrugged his shoulders with the air of a man who has made up his + mind to accept the banter of his friends; and in a tone of mingled + sentimentality and irony, he said: “I know that it’s absurd, and that I + shall be the laughing-stock of my acquaintances. Still it doesn’t matter; + I have never been coward enough to hide my feelings. I’m in love, my dear + baron, as madly in love as a young collegian—sufficiently in love to + watch my lady’s house at night even when I have no possible hope of seeing + her. I thought myself blase, I boasted of being invulnerable. Well, one + fine morning I woke up with the heart of a youth of twenty beating in my + breast—a heart which trembled at the slightest glance from the girl + I love, and sent purple flushes to my face. Naturally I tried to reason + with myself. I was ashamed of my weakness; but the more clearly I showed + myself my folly, the more obstinate my heart became. And perhaps my folly + is not such a great one after all. Such perfect beauty united with such + modesty, grace, and nobility of soul, such passion, candor and talent, + cannot be met twice in a lifetime. I intend to leave Paris. We shall first + of all go to Italy, my wife and I. After a while we shall return and + install ourselves at Valorsay, like two turtle-doves. Upon my word, my + imagination paints a charming picture of the calm and happy life we shall + lead there! I don’t deserve such good fortune. I must have been born under + a lucky star!” + </p> + <p> + Had he been less engrossed in his narrative, he would have heard the sound + of a stifled oath in the adjoining room; and had he been less absorbed in + the part he was playing, he would have observed a cloud on his companion’s + brow. The baron was a keen observer, and he had detected a false ring in + this apparently vehement outburst of passion. “I understand it now, my + dear marquis,” said he; “you have met the descendant of some illustrious + but impoverished family.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong. My future bride has no other name than her Christian name + of Marguerite.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a regular romance then!” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right; it is a romance. Were you acquainted with the Count + de Chalusse, who died a few days ago?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I have often heard him spoken of.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is his daughter whom I am about to marry—his illegitimate + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + The baron started. “Excuse me,” said he; “M. de Chalusse was immensely + rich, and he was a bachelor. How does it happen then that his daughter, + even though she be his illegitimate child, should find herself penniless?” + </p> + <p> + “A mere chance—a fatality. M. de Chalusse died very suddenly; he had + no time to make a will or to acknowledge his daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “But why had he not taken some precautions?” + </p> + <p> + “A formal recognition of his daughter was attended by too many + difficulties, and even dangers. Mademoiselle Marguerite had been abandoned + by her mother when only five or six months old; it is only a few years + since M. de Chalusse, after a thousand vain attempts, at last succeeded in + finding her.” + </p> + <p> + It was no longer on Pascal’s account, but on his own, that Baron Trigault + listened with breathless attention. “How very strange,” he exclaimed, in + default of something better to say. “How very strange!” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it? It is as good as a novel.” + </p> + <p> + “Would it be—indiscreet——” + </p> + <p> + “To inquire? Certainly not. The count told me the whole story, without + entering into particulars—you understand. When he was quite young, + M. de Chalusse became enamoured of a charming young lady, whose husband + had gone to tempt fortune in America. Being an honest woman, she resisted + the count’s advances for awhile—a very little while; but in less + than a year after her husband’s departure, she gave birth to a pretty + little daughter, Mademoiselle Marguerite. But then why had the husband + gone to America?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” faltered the baron; “why—why, indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything was progressing finely, when M. de Chalusse was in his turn + obliged to start for Germany, having been informed that a sister of his, + who had fled from the paternal roof with nobody knows who, had been seen + there. He had been absent some four months or so, when one morning the + post brought him a letter from his pretty mistress, who wrote: ‘We are + lost! My husband is at Marseilles: he will be here to-morrow. Never + attempt to see me again. Fear everything from him. Farewell.’ On receiving + this letter, M. de Chalusse flung himself into a postchaise, and returned + to Paris. He was determined, absolutely determined, to have his daughter. + But he arrived too late. On hearing of her husband’s return, the young + wife had lost her head. She had but one thought—to conceal her + fault, at any cost; and one night, being completely disguised, she left + her child on a doorstep in the vicinity of the central markets——” + </p> + <p> + The marquis suddenly paused in his story to exclaim: “Why, what is the + matter with you, my dear baron? What is the matter? Are you ill? Shall I + ring?” + </p> + <p> + The baron was as pale as if the last drop of blood had been drawn from his + veins, and there were dark purple circles about his eyes. Still, on being + questioned, he managed to answer in a choked voice, but not without a + terrible effort: “Nothing! It is nothing. A mere trifle! It will be over + in a moment. It IS over!” Still his limbs trembled so much that he could + not stand, and he sank on to a chair, murmuring: “I entreat you, marquis—continue. + It is very interesting—very interesting indeed.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay resumed his narrative. “The husband was incontestably an + artless fellow: but he was also, it appears, a man of remarkable energy + and determination. Having somehow ascertained that his wife had given + birth to a child in his absence, he moved heaven and earth not only to + discover the child, but its father also. He had sworn to kill them both; + and he was a man to keep his vow unmoved by a thought of the guillotine. + And if you require a proof of his strength of character, here it is: He + said nothing to his wife on the subject, he did not utter a single + reproach; he treated her exactly as he had done before his absence. But he + watched her, or employed others to watch her, both day and night, + convinced that she would finally commit some act of imprudence which would + give him the clue he wanted. Fortunately, she was very shrewd. She soon + discovered that her husband knew everything, and she warned M. de + Chalusse, thus saving his life.” + </p> + <p> + It is not at all remarkable that the Marquis de Valorsay should have + failed to see any connection between his narrative and the baron’s + agitation. What possible connection could there be between opulent Baron + Trigault and the poor devil who went to seek his fortune in America? What + imaginable connection could there be between the confirmed gambler, who + was Kami-Bey’s companion, Lia d’Argeles’s friend, and the husband who for + ten long years had pursued the man who, by seducing his wife, had robbed + him of all the happiness of life? Another point that would have dispelled + any suspicions on the marquis’s part was that he had found the baron + greatly agitated on arriving, and that he now seemed to be gradually + regaining his composure. So he continued his story in his customary light, + mocking tone. It is the perfection of good taste and high breeding—“proper + form,” indeed, not to be astonished or moved by anything, in fact to sneer + at everything, and hold one’s self quite above the emotions which disturb + the minds of plebeians. + </p> + <p> + Thus the marquis continued: “I am necessarily compelled to omit many + particulars, my dear baron. The count was not very explicit when he + reached this part of his story; but, in spite of his reticence, I learned + that he had been tricked in his turn, that certain papers had been stolen + from him, and that he had been defrauded in many ways by his inamorata. I + also know that M. de Chalusse’s whole life was haunted by the thought of + the husband he had wronged. He felt a presentiment that he would die by + this man’s hand. He saw danger on every side. If he went out alone in the + evening, which was an exceedingly rare occurrence, he turned the street + corners with infinite caution; it seemed to him that he could always see + the gleam of a poniard or a pistol in the shade. I should never have + believed in this constant terror on the part of a really brave man, if he + had not confessed it to me with his own lips. Ten or twelve years passed + before he dared to make the slightest attempt to find his daughter, so + much did he fear to arouse his enemy’s attention. It was not until he had + discovered that the husband had become discouraged and had discontinued + his search, that the count began his. It was a long and arduous one, but + at last it succeeded, thanks to the assistance of a clever scoundrel named + Fortunat.” + </p> + <p> + The baron with difficulty repressed a movement of eager curiosity, and + remarked: “What a peculiar name!” + </p> + <p> + “And his first name is Isidore. Ah! he’s a smooth-tongued scoundrel, a + rascal of the most dangerous kind, who richly deserves to be in jail. How + it is that he is allowed to prosecute his dishonorable calling I can’t + understand; but it is none the less true that he does follow it, and + without the slightest attempt at concealment, at an office he has on the + Place de la Bourse.” + </p> + <p> + This name and address were engraved upon the baron’s memory, never to be + effaced. + </p> + <p> + “However,” resumed M. de Valorsay, “the poor count was fated to have no + peace. The husband had scarcely ceased to torment him, he had scarcely + begun to breathe freely, when the wife attacked him in her turn. She must + have been one of those vile and despicable women who make a man hate the + entire sex. Pretending that the count had turned her from the path of + duty, and destroyed her life and happiness, she lost no opportunity of + tormenting him. She would not allow M. de Chalusse to keep the child with + him, nor would she consent to his adopting the girl. She declared it an + act of imprudence, which would surely set her husband upon the track, + sooner or later. And when the count announced his intention of legally + adopting the child, in spite of her protests, she declared that, rather + than allow it, she would confess everything to her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “The count was a patient man,” sneered the baron. + </p> + <p> + “Not so patient as you may suppose. His submission was due to some secret + cause which he never confided to me. There must have been some great crime + under all this. In any case, the poor count found it impossible to escape + this terrible woman. He took refuge at Cannes; but she followed him. He + travelled through Italy, for I don’t know how many months under an assumed + name, but all in vain. He was at last compelled to conceal his daughter in + some provincial convent. During the last few months of his life he + obtained peace—that is to say, he bought it. This lady’s husband + must either be very poor or exceedingly stingy; and as she was exceedingly + fond of luxury, M. de Chalusse effected a compromise by giving her a large + sum monthly, and also by paying her dress-maker’s bills.” + </p> + <p> + The baron sprang to his feet with a passionate exclamation. “The vile + wretch!” he said. + </p> + <p> + But he quickly reseated himself, and the exclamation astonished M. de + Valorsay so little that he quietly concluded by saying: “And this is the + reason, baron, why my beloved Marguerite, the future Marquise de Valorsay, + has no dowry.” + </p> + <p> + The baron cast a look of positive anguish at the door of the smoking-room. + He had heard a slight movement there; and he trembled with fear lest + Pascal, maddened with anger and jealousy, should rush in and throw himself + upon the marquis. Plainly enough, this perilous situation could not last + much longer. The baron’s own powers of self-control and dissimulation were + almost exhausted, and so postponing until another time the many questions + he still wished to ask M. de Valorsay, he made haste to check these + confidential disclosures. “Upon my word,” he exclaimed, with a forced + laugh, “I was expecting something quite different. This affair begins like + a genuine romance, and ends, as everything ends nowadays, in money!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. + </h2> + <p> + As a millionaire and a gambler, Baron Trigault enjoyed all sorts of + privileges. He assumed the right to be brutal, ill-bred, cynical and bold; + to be one of those persons who declare that folks must take them as they + find them. But his rudeness now was so thoroughly offensive that under any + other circumstances the marquis would have resented it. However, he had + special reasons for preserving his temper, so he decided to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, these stories always end in the same way, baron,” said he. “You + haven’t touched a card this morning, and I know your hands are itching. + Excuse me for making you waste precious time, as you say; but what you + have just heard was only a necessary preface.” + </p> + <p> + “Only a preface?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but don’t be discouraged. I have arrived at the object of my visit + now.” + </p> + <p> + As Baron Trigault was supposed to enjoy an income of at least eight + hundred thousand francs a year, he received in the course of a twelvemonth + at least a million applications for money or help, and for this reason he + had not an equal for detecting a coming appeal. “Good heavens!” he + thought, “Valorsay is going to ask me for money.” In fact, he felt certain + that the marquis’s pretended carelessness concealed real embarrassment, + and that it was difficult for him to find the words he wanted. + </p> + <p> + “So I am about to marry,” M. de Valorsay resumed—“I wish to break + off my former life, to turn over a new leaf. And now the wedding gifts, + the two fetes that I propose giving, the repairs at Valorsay, and the + honeymoon with my wife—all these things will cost a nice little + sum.” + </p> + <p> + “A nice little sum, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well! as I’m not going to wed an heiress, I fear I shall run a trifle + short. The matter was worrying me a little, when I thought of you. I said + to myself: ‘The baron, who always has money at his disposal, will no doubt + let me have the use of five thousand louis for a year.’” + </p> + <p> + The baron’s eyes were fixed upon his companion’s face. “Zounds!” he + exclaimed in a half-grieved, half-petulant tone; “I haven’t the amount!” + </p> + <p> + It was not disappointment that showed itself on the marquis’s face; it was + absolute despair, quickly concealed. + </p> + <p> + But the baron had detected it; and he realized his applicant’s urgent + need. He felt certain that M. de Valorsay was financially ruined—and + yet, as it did not suit his plans to refuse, he hastily added: “When I say + I haven’t that amount, I mean that I haven’t got it on hand just at this + moment. But I shall have it within forty-eight hours; and if you are at + home at this time on the day after to-morrow, I will send you one of my + agents, who will arrange the matter with you.” + </p> + <p> + A moment before, the marquis had allowed his consternation to show itself; + but this time he knew how to conceal the joy that filled his soul. So it + was in the most indifferent manner, as if the affair were one of trivial + importance, that he thanked the baron for being so obliging. Plainly + enough, he now longed to make his escape, and indeed, after rattling off a + few commonplace remarks, he rose to his feet and took his leave, + exclaiming: “Till the day after to-morrow, then!” + </p> + <p> + The baron sank into an arm-chair, completely overcome. A martyr to a + passion that was stronger than reason itself, the victim of a fatal love + which he had not been able to drive from his heart, Baron Trigault had + passed many terrible hours, but never had he been so completely crushed as + at this moment when chance revealed the secret which he had vainly pursued + for years. The old wounds in his heart opened afresh, and his sufferings + were poignant beyond description. All his efforts to save this woman whom + he at once loved and hated from the depths of degradation, had proved + unavailing. “And she has extorted money from the Count de Chalusse,” he + thought; “she sold him the right to adopt their own daughter.” And so + strange are the workings of the human heart, that this circumstance, + trivial in comparison with many others, drove the unfortunate baron almost + frantic with rage. What did it avail him that he had become one of the + richest men in Paris? He allowed his wife eight thousand francs a month, + almost one hundred thousand francs a year, merely for her dresses and + fancies. Not a quarter-day passed, but what he paid her debts to a large + amount, and in spite of all this, she had sunk so low as to extort money + from a man who had once loved her. “What can she do with it all?” muttered + the baron, overcome with sorrow and indignation. “How can she succeed in + spending the income of several millions?” + </p> + <p> + A name, the name of Ferdinand de Coralth, rose to his lips; but he did not + pronounce it. He saw Pascal emerging from the smoking-room; and though he + had forgotten the young advocate’s very existence, his appearance now + restored him to a consciousness of reality. “Ah, well! M. Ferailleur?” he + said, like a man suddenly aroused from some terrible nightmare. Pascal + tried to make some reply, but he was unable to do so—such a flood of + incoherent thoughts was seething and foaming in his brain. “Did you hear, + M. de Valorsay?” continued the baron. “Now we know, beyond the possibility + of doubt, who Mademoiselle Marguerite’s mother is. What is to be done? + What would you do in my place?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, monsieur! how can I tell?” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn’t your first thought be of vengeance! It is mine. But upon whom + can I wreak my vengeance? Upon the Count de Chalusse? He is dead. Upon my + wife? Yes, I might do so; but I lack the courage—Mademoiselle + Marguerite remains.” + </p> + <p> + “But she is innocent, monsieur; she has never wronged you.” + </p> + <p> + The baron did not seem to hear this exclamation. “And to make Mademoiselle + Marguerite’s life one long misery,” said he, “I need only favor her + marriage with the marquis. Ah, he would make her cruelly expiate the crime + of her birth.” + </p> + <p> + “But you won’t do so!” cried Pascal, in a transport, “it would be + shameful; I won’t allow it. Never, I swear before high Heaven! never, + while I live, shall Valorsay marry Marguerite. He may perhaps vanquish me + in the coming struggle; he may lead her to the threshold of the church, + but there he will find me—armed—and I will have justice—human + justice in default of legal satisfaction. And, afterward, the law may take + its course!” + </p> + <p> + The baron looked at him with deep emotion. “Ah, you know what it is to + love!” he exclaimed; and in a hollow voice, he added: “and thus it was + that I loved Marguerite’s mother.” + </p> + <p> + The breakfast-table had not been cleared, and a large decanter of water + was still standing on it. The baron poured out two large glasses, which he + drained with feverish avidity, and then he began to walk aimlessly about + the room. + </p> + <p> + Pascal held his peace. It seemed to him that his own destiny was being + decided in this man’s mind, that his whole future depended upon the + determination he arrived at. A prisoner awaiting the verdict of the jury + could not have suffered more intense anxiety. At last, when a minute, + which seemed a century, had elapsed, the baron paused. “Now as before, M. + Ferailleur,” he said, roughly, “I’m for you and with you. Give me your + hand—that’s right. Honest people ought to protect and assist one + another when scoundrels assail them. We will reinstate you in public + esteem, monsieur. We will unmask Coralth, and we will crush Valorsay if we + find that he is really the instigator of the infamous plot that ruined + you.” + </p> + <p> + “What, monsieur! Can you doubt it after your conversation with him?” + </p> + <p> + The baron shook his head. “I’ve no doubt but what Valorsay is ruined + financially,” said he. “I am certain that my hundred thousand francs will + be lost forever if I lend them to him. I would be willing to swear that he + bet against his own horse and prevented the animal from winning, as he is + accused of doing.” + </p> + <p> + “You must see, then—” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me—all this does NOT explain the great discrepancy between + your allegations and his story. You assure me that he cares nothing + whatever for Mademoiselle Marguerite; he pretends that he adores her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur, yes—the scoundrel dared to say so. Ah! if I had not + been deterred by a fear of losing my revenge!” + </p> + <p> + “I understand; but allow me to conclude. According to you, Mademoiselle + Marguerite possesses several millions. According to him, she hasn’t a + penny of her own. Which is right? I believe he is. His desire to borrow a + hundred thousand francs of me proves it; and, besides, he wouldn’t have + come this morning to tell me a falsehood, which would be discovered + to-morrow. Still, if he is telling the truth, it is impossible to explain + the foul conspiracy you have suffered by.” + </p> + <p> + This objection had previously presented itself to Pascal’s mind, and he + had found an explanation which seemed to him a plausible one. “M. de + Chalusse was not dead,” said he, “when M. de Coralth and M. de Valorsay + decided on this plan of ridding themselves of me. Consequently, + Mademoiselle Marguerite was still an heiress.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true; but the very day after the commission of the crime, the + accomplices must have discovered that it could do them no good; so, why + have they still persisted in their scheme?” + </p> + <p> + Pascal tried to find a satisfactory answer, but failed. + </p> + <p> + “There must be some iniquitous mystery in this affair, which neither you + nor I suspect,” remarked the baron. + </p> + <p> + “That is exactly what my mother told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that’s Madame Ferailleur’s opinion? Then it is a good one. Come, let + us reason a little. Mademoiselle Marguerite loved you, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And she has suddenly broken off the engagement?” + </p> + <p> + “She wrote to me that the Count de Chalusse extorted from her a promise on + his death-bed, that she would marry the Marquis de Valorsay.” + </p> + <p> + The baron sprang to his feet. “Stop,” he cried—“stop! We now have a + clue to the truth, perhaps. Ah! so Mademoiselle Marguerite has written to + you that M. de Chalusse commanded her to marry the marquis! Then the count + must have been fully restored to consciousness before he breathed his + last. On the other hand, Valorsay pretends that Mademoiselle Marguerite is + left without resources, simply because the count died too suddenly to be + able to write or to sign a couple of lines. Can you reconcile these two + versions of the affair, M. Ferailleur? Certainly not. Then which version + is false? We must ascertain that point. When shall you see Mademoiselle + Marguerite again?” + </p> + <p> + “She has requested me NEVER to try to see her again.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well! She must be disobeyed. You must discover some way of seeing + her without anyone’s knowledge. She is undoubtedly watched, so don’t write + on any account.” He reflected for a moment, and then added: “We shall, + perhaps, become morally certain of Valorsay’s and Coralth’s guilt, but + there’s a wide difference between this and the establishment of their + guilt by material proofs. Two scoundrels who league to ruin an honest man + don’t sign a contract to that effect before a notary. Proofs! Ah! where + shall we find them? We must gain an intimate knowledge of Valorsay’s + private life. The best plan would be to find some man devoted to our + interests who would watch him, and insinuate himself into his confidence.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal interrupted the baron with an eager gesture. Hope glittered in his + eyes. “Yes!” he exclaimed, “yes; it is necessary that M. de Valorsay + should be watched by a man of quick perception—a man clever enough + to make himself useful to the marquis, and capable of rendering him an + important service in case of need. I will be the man, monsieur, if you + will allow me. The thought occurred to me just now while I was listening + to you. You promised to send some one to Valorsay’s house with money. I + entreat you to allow me to take the place of the man you intended to send. + The marquis doesn’t know me, and I am sufficiently sure of myself to + promise you that I will not betray my identity. I will present myself as + your agent; he will give me his confidence. I shall take him money or fair + promises, I shall be well received, and I have a plan——” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by a rap at the door. The next moment a footman + entered, and informed his master that a messenger wished to speak to him + on urgent business. “Let him come in,” said the baron. + </p> + <p> + It was Job, Madame Lia d’Argeles’s confidential servant, who entered the + room. He bowed respectfully, and, with an air of profound mystery + exclaimed: “I have been looking for the baron everywhere. I was ordered by + madame not to return without him.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said M. Trigault. “I will go with you at once.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. + </h2> + <p> + How was it that a clever man like M. Fortunat made such a blunder as to + choose a Sunday, and a racing Sunday too, to call on M. Wilkie. His + anxiety might explain the mistake, but it did not justify it. He felt + certain, that under any other circumstances he would not have been + dismissed so cavalierly. He would at least have been allowed to develop + his proposals, and then who knows what might have happened? + </p> + <p> + But the races had interfered with his plans. M. Wilkie had been compelled + to attend to Pompier de Nanterre, that famous steeplechaser, of which he + owned one-third part, and he had, moreover, to give orders to the jockey, + whose lord and master he was to an equal extent. These were sacred duties, + since Wilkie’s share in a race-horse constituted his only claim to a + footing in fashionable society. But it was a strong claim—a claim + that justified the display of whips and spurs that decorated his + apartments in the Rue du Helder, and allowed him to aspire to the + character of a sporting man. Wilkie really imagined that folks were + waiting for him at Vincennes; and that the fete would not be complete + without his presence. + </p> + <p> + Still, when he presented himself inside the enclosure, a cigar in his + mouth, and his racing card dangling from his button-hole, he was obliged + to confess that his entrance did not create much of a sensation. An + astonishing bit of news had imparted unusual excitement to the ring. + People were eagerly discussing the Marquis de Valorsay’s sudden + determination to pay forfeit and withdraw his horses from the contest; and + the best informed declared that in the betting-rooms the evening before he + had openly announced his intention of selling his racing stable. If the + marquis had hoped that by adopting this course he would silence the + suspicions which had been aroused, he was doomed to grievous + disappointment. The rumor that he had secretly bet against his own horse, + Domingo, on the previous Sunday, and that he had given orders not to let + the animal win the race, was steadily gaining credence. + </p> + <p> + Large sums had been staked on Domingo’s success. He had been the favorite + in the betting ring and the losers were by no means pleased. Some declared + that they had seen the jockey hold Domingo back; and they insisted that it + was necessary to make an example, and disqualify both the marquis and his + jockey. Still one weighty circumstance pleaded in M. de Valorsay’s favor—his + fortune, or, at least, the fortune he was supposed to possess. “Why should + such a rich man stoop to cheat?” asked his defenders. “To put money into + one’s pocket in this way is even worse than to cheat at cards! Besides, + it’s impossible! Valorsay is above such contemptible charges. He is a + perfect gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so,” replied the skeptical bystanders. “But people said exactly + the same of Croisenois, of the Duc de H., and Baron P., who were finally + convicted of the same rascality that Valorsay is accused of.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s an infamous slander! If he had been inclined to cheat, he could have + easily diverted suspicion. He would have let Domingo come in second, not + third!” + </p> + <p> + “If he were not guilty, and afraid of detection, he wouldn’t pay forfeit + to-day nor sell his horses.” + </p> + <p> + “He only retires from the turf because he’s going to marry——” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! That’s no reason whatever.” + </p> + <p> + Like all gamblers, the frequenters of the turf are distrustful and + inclined to be quarrelsome. No one is above their suspicions when they + lose nor above their wrath when they are duped. And this Domingo affair + united all the losers against Valorsay; they formed a little battalion of + enemies who were no doubt powerless for the time being, but who were ready + to take a startling revenge whenever a good opportunity presented itself. + Naturally enough, M. Wilkie sided with the marquis, whom he had heard his + friend, M. de Coralth, speak of on several occasions. “Accuse the dear + marquis!” he exclaimed. “It’s contemptible, outrageous. Why, only last + evening he said to me, ‘My good friend, Domingo’s defeat cost me two + thousand louis!’” M. de Valorsay had said nothing of the kind, for the + very good reason that he did not even know Wilkie by sight; still, no one + paid much heed to the assertion, whereat Wilkie felt vexed, and resolved + to turn his attention to his jockey. + </p> + <p> + The latter was a lazy, worthless fellow, who had been dismissed from every + stable he had previously served in, and who swindled and robbed the young + gentlemen who employed him without either limit or shame. Although he made + them pay him a very high salary—something like eight thousand francs + a year—on the plea that it was most repugnant to his feelings to act + as a groom, trainer, and jockey at the same time, he regularly every month + presented them with fabulous bills from the grain merchant, the veterinary + surgeon, and the harness-maker. In addition, he regularly sold Pompier’s + oats in order to obtain liquor, and in fact the poor animal was so nearly + starved that he could scarcely stand on his legs. The jockey ascribed the + horse’s extreme thinness to a system of rigorous training; and the owners + did not question the statement in the least. He had made them believe, and + they in turn had made many others believe, that Pompier de Nanterre would + certainly win such and such a race; and, trusting in this fallacious + promise, they risked their money on the poor animal—and lost it. + </p> + <p> + In point of fact, this jockey would have been the happiest mortal in the + world if such things as steeple-chases had never existed. In the first + place, he judged, with no little reason, that it was dangerous to leap + hurdles on such an animal as Pompier; and, secondly, nothing irritated him + so much as to be obliged to promenade with his three employers in turn. + But how could he refuse, since he knew that if these young men hired him, + it was chiefly, or only in view of, displaying themselves in his company. + It afforded them untold satisfaction to walk to and fro along the course + in front of the grand stand, with their jockey in his orange jacket with + green sleeves. They were firmly convinced that he reflected enormous + credit upon them, and their hearts swelled with joy at the thought of the + envy they no doubt inspired. This conviction gave rise indeed to terrible + quarrels, in which each of the three owners was wont to accuse the others + of monopolizing the jockey. + </p> + <p> + On this occasion, M. Wilkie—being fortunate enough to arrive the + first—immediately repaired to Pompier de Nanterre’s stall. Never had + circumstances been more favorable for a display of the animal’s speed. The + day was magnificent; the stands were crowded, and thousands of eager + spectators were pushing and jostling one another beyond the ropes which + limited the course. M. Wilkie seemed to be everywhere; he showed himself + in a dozen different places at once, always followed by his jockey, whom + he ordered about in a loud voice, with many excited gesticulations. And + how great his delight was when, as he passed through the crowd, he heard + people exclaim: “That gentleman has a racing stable. His horses are going + to compete!” What bliss thrilled his heart when he overheard the admiring + exclamation of some worthy shopkeeper who was greatly impressed by the gay + silk jacket and the top-boots! + </p> + <p> + But, unfortunately, this happiness could not last forever. His partners + arrived, and claimed the jockey in their turn. So M. Wilkie left the + course and strolled about among the carriages, until at last he found an + equipage which was occupied by the young ladies who had accepted his + invitation to supper the evening before, and who were now making a profuse + display of the very yellowest hair they possessed. This afforded him + another opportunity of attracting public attention, and to giving proofs + of his “form,” for he had not filled the box of his carriage with + champagne for nothing. At last the decisive moment came, and he made + himself conspicuous by shouting. “Now! Now! Here he is! Look! Bravo, + Pompier! One hundred on Pompier!” + </p> + <p> + But, alas! poor Pompier de Nanterre fell exhausted before half the + distance was accomplished; and that evening Wilkie described his defeat, + with a profusion of technical terms that inspired the uninitiated with the + deepest awe. “What a disaster, my friends,” he exclaimed. “Pompier de + Nanterre, an incomparable steeplechaser, to break down in such a fashion! + And beaten by whom? My Mustapha, an outsider, without any record whatever! + The ring was intensely excited—and I was simply crazed.” + </p> + <p> + However, his defeat did not affect him very deeply. It was forgotten at + thought of the inheritance which his friend Coralth had spoken to him + about. And to-morrow M. de Coralth would tell him the secret. He had only + twenty hours longer to wait! “To-morrow! to-morrow!” he said to himself + again and again, with a thrill of mingled joy and impatience. And what + bright visions of future glory haunted him! He saw himself the possessor + of a magnificent stud, of sufficient wealth to gratify every fancy; he + would splash mud upon all the passers-by, and especially upon his former + acquaintances, as he dashed past them in his superb equipage; the best + tailor should invent astonishing garments for him; he would make himself + conspicuous at all the first performances in a stage-box, with the most + notorious women in Paris; his fetes would be described in the papers; he + would be the continual subject of comment; he would be credited with + splendid, perfect “form.” + </p> + <p> + It is true that M. de Coralth had promised him all this, without a word of + explanation; but what did that matter? Should he doubt his friend’s word? + Never! The viscount was not merely his model, but his oracle as well. By + the way in which he spoke of him, it might have been supposed that they + had been friends from their childhood, or, at least, that they had known + each other for years. Such was not the case, however. Their acquaintance + dated only seven or eight months back, and their first meeting had + apparently been the result of chance; though it is needless to say, + perhaps, that this chance had been carefully prepared by M. de Coralth. + Having discovered Madame Lia d’Argeles’s secret, the viscount watched + Wilkie, ascertained where he spent his evenings, contrived a way of + introducing himself into his society, and on their third meeting was + skilful enough to render him a service—in other words, to lend him + some money. From that moment the conquest was assured; for M. de Coralth + possessed in an eminent degree all the attributes that were likely to + dazzle and charm the gifted owner of Pompier de Nanterre. First of all, + there was his title, then his impudent assurance and his apparent wealth, + and last, but by no means least, his numerous and fashionable + acquaintances. He was not long in discovering his advantage, and in + profiting by it. And without giving M. Wilkie an inkling of the truth, he + succeeded in obtaining from him as accurate a knowledge of his past career + as the young fellow himself possessed. + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie did not know much concerning his origin or his early life; and + his history, so far as he was acquainted with it, could be told in a few + words. His earliest recollection was of the ocean. He was sure, perfectly + sure, that he had made a very long sea voyage when only a little child, + and he looked upon America as his birthplace. The French language was + certainly not the first he had learned, for he still remembered a limited + number of English phrases. The English word “father” was among those that + lingered in his memory; and now, after a lapse of twenty years, he + pronounced it without the least foreign accent. But while he remembered + the word perfectly well, no recollection remained to him of the person he + had called by that name. His first sensations were those of hunger, + weariness, and cold. He recollected, and very distinctly too, how on one + long winter night, a woman had dragged him after her through the streets + of Paris, in an icy rain. He could still see himself as he wandered on, + crying with weariness, and begging for something to eat. And then the poor + woman who held him by the hand lifted him in her arms and carried him on—on, + until her own strength failed, and she was obliged to set him on the + ground again. A vague portrait of this woman, who was most probably his + mother, still lingered in his memory. According to his description, she + was extremely handsome, tall, and very fair. He had been particularly + impressed with the pale tint and profusion of her beautiful hair. + </p> + <p> + Their poverty had not lasted long. He remembered being installed with his + mother in a very handsome suite of rooms. A man, who was still young, and + whom he called “Monsieur Jacques,” came every day, and brought him + sweetmeats and playthings. He thought he must have been about four years + old at that time. However, he had enjoyed this comfortable state of things + scarcely a month, when one morning a stranger presented himself. The + visitor held a long conference with his mother, or, at least, with the + person whom he called by that name. He did not understand what they were + talking about, but he was none the less very uneasy. The result of the + interview must have justified his instinctive fear, for his mother took + him on her lap, and embraced him with convulsive tenderness. She sobbed + violently, and repeated again and again in a faltering voice: “Poor child! + my beloved Wilkie! I shall never kiss you again—never, never! ‘Alas! + It must be so! Give me courage, my God!” + </p> + <p> + Those were the exact words; Wilkie was sure on that point. It seemed to + him he could still hear that despairing farewell. For it was indeed a + farewell. The stranger took him in his arms and carried him away, in spite + of his cries and struggles to escape. This person to whose care he was + confined was the master of a small boarding-school, and his wife was the + kindest and most patient of women. However, this did not prevent Wilkie + from crying and begging for his mother at first; but gradually he forgot + her. He was not unhappy, for he was petted and indulged more than any of + the other pupils, and he spent most of his time playing on the terrace or + wandering about the garden. But this charming life could not last for + ever. According to his calculation, he was just ten years old when, one + Sunday, toward the end of October, a grave-looking, red-whiskered + gentleman, clad in solemn black with a white necktie, presented himself at + the school, and declared that he had been instructed by Wilkie’s relatives + to place him in a college to continue his education. + </p> + <p> + Young Wilkie’s lamentations were long and loud; but they did not prevent + M. Patterson—for that was the gentleman’s name—from taking him + to the college of Louis-the-Great, where he was entered as a boarder. As + he did not study, and as he was only endowed with a small amount of + intelligence, he learned scarcely anything during the years he remained + there. Every Sunday and every fete day, M. Patterson made his appearance + at ten o’clock precisely, took Wilkie for a walk in Paris or the environs, + gave him his breakfast and dinner at some of the best restaurants, bought + everything he expressed a desire to have, and at nine o’clock precisely + took him back to the college again. During the holidays M. Patterson kept + the boy with him, refusing him nothing in the way of pleasure, granting + all his wishes, but never losing sight of him for a moment. And if Wilkie + complained of this constant watchfulness, M. Patterson always replied, “I + must obey orders;” and this answer invariably put an end to the + discussion. + </p> + <p> + So things went on until it became time for Wilkie to take his degree. He + presented himself for examination; and, of course, he failed. Fortunately, + however, M. Patterson was not at a loss for an expedient. He placed his + charge in a private school; and the following year, at a cost of five + thousand francs, he beguiled a poor devil into running the risk of three + years’ imprisonment, by assuming M. Wilkie’s name, and passing the + examination in his place. In possession of the precious diploma which + opens the door of every career, M. Wilkie now hoped that his pockets would + be filled, and that he would then be set at liberty. But the hope was + vain! M. Patterson placed him in the hands of an old tutor who had been + engaged to travel with him through Europe; and as this tutor held the + purse-strings, Wilkie was obliged to follow him through Germany, England, + and Italy. + </p> + <p> + When he returned to Paris he was just twenty years old, and the very next + day M. Patterson conducted him to the suite of rooms which he still + occupied in the Rue du Helder. “You are now in your own home, M. Wilkie,” + said M. Patterson in his most impressive manner. “You are now old enough + to be responsible for your own actions, and I hope you will conduct + yourself like an honest man. From this moment you are your own master. + Those who gave you your education desire you to study law. If I were in + your place, I should obey them. If you wish to be somebody, and to acquire + a fortune, work, for you have no property, nor anything to expect from any + one. The allowance which is granted you, a far too liberal one in my + opinion, may be cut off at any moment. I don’t think it right to conceal + this fact from you. But at all events until then. I am instructed to pay + you five thousand francs quarterly. Here is the amount for the first + quarter, and in three months’ time I shall send you a similar amount. I + say ‘shall SEND,’ because my business compels me to return to England, and + take up my abode there. Here is my London address; and if any serious + trouble befalls you, write to me. Now, my duty being fulfilled, farewell.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the devil, you old preacher!” growled Wilkie, as he saw the door + close on the retreating figure of M. Patterson, who had acted as his + guardian for ten years. None of M. Patterson’s wise advice lingered in the + young fellow’s mind. To use a familiar expression, “It went in through one + ear and came out through the other.” Only two facts had made an impression + upon him: that he was to be his own master henceforth, and that he had a + fortune at his command. There it lay upon the table, five thousand francs + in glittering gold. + </p> + <p> + If M. Wilkie had taken the trouble to attentively examine the rooms which + had suddenly become his own, he would perhaps have recognized the fact + that a loving hand had prepared them for his reception. Countless details + revealed the delicate taste of a woman, and the thoughtful tenderness of a + mother. None of those little superfluities which delight a young man had + been forgotten. There was a box of choice cigars upon the table, and a jar + of tobacco on the mantel-shelf. But Wilkie did not take time to discover + this. He hastily slipped five hundred francs into his pocket, locked the + rest of his money in a drawer, and went out with as lofty an air as if all + Paris belonged to him, or as if he had enough money to purchase it. + </p> + <p> + He had resolved to give a fete in honor of his deliverance, and so he + hurried off in search of some of his old college chums. He found two of + them; and, although it was very wounding to his self-love, M. Wilkie was + obliged to confess to them that this was his first taste of liberty, and + that he scarcely knew what to do with himself. Of course his friends + assured him that they could quickly make him acquainted with the only life + that it was worth while living; and, to prove it, they accepted the + invitation to dinner which he immediately offered them. It was a + remarkable repast. Other acquaintances dropped in, the wine flowed in + rivers; and after dinner they danced. And at day-break, having served his + apprenticeship at baccarat, M. Wilkie found himself without a penny in his + pocket, and face to face with a bill of four hundred francs, for which + amount he was obliged to go to his rooms, under the escort of one of the + waiters. This first experiment ought to have disgusted him, or at least + have made him reflect. But no. He felt quite in his element in the society + of dissipated young men and enamelled women. He swore that he would win a + place in their midst, and an influential place too. But it was easier to + form this plan than to carry it into execution, as he discovered when, at + the end of the month, he counted his money to see what remained of the + five thousand francs that had been given him for his quarterly allowance. + He had just three hundred francs left. + </p> + <p> + Twenty thousand francs a year is what one chooses to make it—wealth + or poverty. Twenty thousand francs a year represents about sixty francs a + day; but what are sixty francs to a high liver, who breakfasts and dines + at the best restaurants, whose clothes are designed by an illustrious + tailor, who declines to make a pair of trousers for less than a hundred + francs? What are three louis a day to a man who hires a box for first + performances at the opera, to a man who gambles and gives expensive + suppers, to a man who drives out with yellow-haired demoiselles, and who + owns a race-horse? Measuring his purse and his ambition, M. Wilkie + discovered that he should never succeed in making both ends meet. “How do + other people manage?” he wondered. A puzzling question! Every evening a + thousand gorgeously apparelled gentlemen, with a cigar in their mouth and + a flower in their button-hole, may be seen promenading between the + Chaussee d’Antin and the Faubourg Montmartre. Everybody knows them, and + they know everybody, but how they exist is a problem which it is + impossible to solve. How do they live, and what do they live on? Everybody + knows that they have no property; they do nothing, and yet they are + reckless in their expenditures, and rail at work and jeer at economy. What + source do they derive their money from? What vile business are they + engaged in? + </p> + <p> + However, M. Wilkie did not devote much time to solving this question. “My + relatives must wish me to starve,” he said to himself. “Not I—I’m + not that sort of a person, as I’ll soon let them know.” And thereupon he + wrote to M. Patterson. By return of post that gentleman sent him a cheque + for one thousand francs—a mere drop in the bucket. M. Wilkie felt + indignant and so he wrote again. This time he was obliged to wait for a + reply. Still at last it came. M. Patterson sent him two thousand francs, + and an interminable epistle full of reproaches. The interesting young man + threw the letter into the fire, and went out to hire a carriage by the + month and a servant. + </p> + <p> + From that day forward, his life was spent in demanding money and waiting + for it. He employed in quick succession every pretext that could soften + the hearts of obdurate relatives, or find the way to the most closely + guarded cash-box. He was ill—he had contracted a debt of honor—he + had imprudently lent money to an unscrupulous friend—he was about to + be arrested for debt. And in accordance with the favorable or unfavorable + character of the replies his manner became humble or impertinent, so that + his friends soon learned to judge very accurately of the condition of his + purse by the way he wore his mustaches. He became wise with experience, + however; and on adding all the sums he had received together, he decided + that his family must be very rich to allow him so much money. And this + thought made him anxious to fathom the mystery of his birth and his + infancy. He finally persuaded himself that he was the son of a great + English nobleman—a member of the House of Lords, who was twenty + times a millionaire. And he more than half believed it when he told his + creditors that his lordship, his father, would some day or other come to + Paris and pay all his debts. Unfortunately it was not M. Wilkie’s noble + father that arrived, but a letter from M. Patterson, which was couched as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR SIR, a considerable sum was placed in my hands to meet your + unexpected requirements; and in compliance with your repeated appeals, I + have remitted the entire amount to you. Not a penny remains in my + possession—so that my instructions have been fulfilled. Spare + yourself the trouble of making any fresh demands; they will meet with no + reply. In future you will not receive a penny above your allowance, which + in my opinion is already too large a one for a young man of your age.” + </p> + <p> + This letter proved a terrible blow to Wilkie. What should he do? He felt + that M. Patterson would not revoke his decision; and indeed he wrote him + several imploring letters, in vain. Yet never had his need of money been + so urgent. His creditors were becoming uneasy; bills actually rained in + upon his concierge; his next quarterly allowance was not due for some time + to come, and it was only through the pawnbroker that he could obtain money + for his more pressing requirements. He had begun to consider himself + ruined. He saw himself reduced to dismissing his carriage, to selling his + third share of Pompier de Nanterre and losing the esteem of all his witty + friends. + </p> + <p> + He was in the depths of despair, when one morning his servant woke him up + with the announcement that the Viscount de Coralth was in the sitting-room + and wished to speak with him on very important business. It was not + usually an easy task to entice M. Wilkie from his bed, but the name his + servant mentioned seemed to have a prodigious effect upon him. He bounded + on to the floor, and as he hastily dressed himself, he muttered: “The + viscount here, at this hour! It’s astonishing! What if he’s going to fight + a duel and wishes me to be his second? That would be a piece of grand good + luck and no mistake. It would assure my position at once. Certainly + something must have happened!” + </p> + <p> + This last remark was by no means a proof of any remarkable perspicuity on + M. Wilkie’s part. As M. de Coralth never went to bed until two or three + o’clock in the morning, he was by no means an early riser, and only some + very powerful reason could explain the presence of his blue-lined brougham + in the street before nine o’clock A.M. And the influence that had made him + rise betimes in the present case had indeed been extremely powerful. + Although the brilliant viscount had discovered Madame d’Argeles’s secret, + several months previously, he had so far disclosed it to no one. It was + certainly not from any delicacy of feeling that he had held his peace; but + only because it had not been for his interest to speak. Now, however, the + sudden death of the Count de Chalusse changed the situation. He heard of + the catastrophe at his club on the evening after the count’s death, and + his emotion was so great that he actually declined to take part in a game + of baccarat that was just beginning. “The devil!” he exclaimed. “Let me + think a moment. Madame d’Argeles is the heiress of all these millions—will + she come forward and claim them? From what I know of her, I am inclined to + think that she won’t. Will she ever go to Wilkie and confess that she, Lia + d’Argeles, is a Chalusse, and that he is her illegitimate son? Never! She + would rather relinquish her millions, both for herself and for him, than + take such a step. She is so ridiculously antiquated in her notions.” And + then he began to study what advantages he might derive from his knowledge + of the situation. + </p> + <p> + M. de Coralth, like all persons whose present is more or less uncertain, + had great misgivings concerning his future. Just now he was cunning enough + to find a means of procuring the thirty or forty thousand francs a year + that were indispensable to his comfort; but he had not a farthing laid by, + and the vein of silver he was now working might fail him at any moment. + The slightest indiscretion, the least blunder, might hurl him from his + splendor into the mire. The perspiration started out on his forehead when + he thought of his peril. He passionately longed for a more assured + position—for a little capital that would insure him his bread until + the end of his days, and rid him of the grim phantom of poverty forever. + And it was this desire which inspired him with the same plan that M. + Fortunat had formed. “Why shouldn’t I inform Wilkie?” he said to himself. + “If I present him with a fortune, the simpleton ought certainly to give me + some reward.” But to carry this plan into execution it would be necessary + to brave Madame d’Argeles’s anger; and that was attended by no little + danger. If he knew something about her, she on her side knew everything + connected with his past life. She had only to speak to ruin him forever. + Still, after weighing all the advantages and all the dangers, he decided + to act, convinced that Madame d’Argeles might be kept ignorant of his + treason, providing he only played his cards skilfully. And his matutinal + visit to M. Wilkie was caused by a fear that he might not be the only + person knowing the truth, and that some one else might forestall him. + </p> + <p> + “You here, at sunrise, my friend!” exclaimed Wilkie, as he entered the + room where the viscount was seated. “What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “To me?—nothing,” replied the viscount. “It was solely on your + account that I deviated from my usual habits.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it? You frighten me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t be alarmed. I have only some good news to communicate,” and in + a careless tone which cleverly concealed his anxiety, the viscount added: + “I have come, my dear Wilkie, to ask you what you would be willing to give + the man who put you in possession of a fortune of several millions?” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie’s face turned from white to purple at least three times in ten + seconds; and it was in a strangely altered voice that he replied: “Ah! + that’s good—very good—excellent!” He tried his best to laugh, + but he was completely overcome; and, in fact, he had cherished so many + extravagant hopes that nothing seemed impossible to him. + </p> + <p> + “Never in all my life have I spoken more seriously,” insisted the + viscount. + </p> + <p> + His companion at first made no reply. It was easy to divine the conflict + that was raging in his mind, between the hope that the news was true and + the fear of being made the victim of a practical joke. “Come, my friend,” + he said at last, “do you want to poke fun at me? That wouldn’t be polite. + A debtor is always sacred, and I owe you twenty-five louis. This is + scarcely the time to talk of millions. My relatives have cut off my + supplies; and my creditors are overwhelming me with their bills——” + </p> + <p> + But M. de Coralth checked him, saying gravely: “Upon my honor, I am not + jesting. What would you give a man who—” + </p> + <p> + “I would give him half of the fortune he gave me.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s too much!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” + </p> + <p> + He was in earnest, certainly. What wouldn’t a man promise in all sincerity + of soul to a fellow mortal who gave him money when he had none—when + he needed it urgently and must have it to save himself from ruin? + </p> + <p> + At such a moment no commission, however large, seems exorbitant. It is + afterward, when the day of settlement comes, that people begin to find + fault with the rate of interest. + </p> + <p> + “If I tell you that one-half is too much, it is because such is really the + case. And I am the best judge of the matter, since I am the man who can + put you in possession of this enormous fortune.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie started back in speechless amazement. + </p> + <p> + “This astonishes you!” said the viscount; “and why, pray? Is it because I + ask for a commission?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! not at all!” + </p> + <p> + “It is not perhaps a very gentlemanly proceeding, but it is a sensible + one. Business is business. In the afternoon, when I am in a restaurant, at + the club, or in a lady’s boudoir, I am merely the viscount and the grand + seigneur. All money questions sicken me. I am careless, liberal, and + obliging to a fault. But in the morning I am simply Coralth, a man of the + middle classes who doesn’t pay his bills without examining them, and who + watches his money, because he doesn’t wish to be ruined and end his + brilliant career as a common soldier in some foreign legion.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie did not allow him to continue. He believed, and his joy was wild—delirious. + “Enough, enough!” he interrupted. “A difficulty between us! Never! I am + yours without reserve! Do you understand me? How much must you have? Do + you wish for it all?” + </p> + <p> + But the viscount was unmoved. “It is not fitting that I should fix upon + the indemnity which is due to me. I will consult a man of business; and I + will decide upon this point on the day after to-morrow, when I shall + explain everything to you.” + </p> + <p> + “On the day after to-morrow! You won’t leave me in suspense for + forty-eight hours?” + </p> + <p> + “It is unavoidable. I have still some important information to procure. I + lost no time in coming to you, so that I might put you on your guard. If + any scoundrel comes to you with proposals, be extremely careful. Some + agents, when they obtain a hold on an estate, leave nothing for the + rightful owner. So don’t treat with any one.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! You may rest assured I won’t.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be quieter in mind if I had your promise in writing.” + </p> + <p> + Without a word, Wilkie darted to a table, and wrote a short contract by + which he bound himself to give M. Ferdinand de Coralth one-half of the + inheritance which the aforesaid Coralth might prove him to be entitled to. + The viscount read the document, placed it in his pocket, and then said, as + he took up his hat: + </p> + <p> + “Very well. I will see you again on Monday.” + </p> + <p> + But M. Wilkie’s doubts were beginning to return. “Monday, so be it!” said + he; “but swear that you are not deceiving me.” + </p> + <p> + “What, do you still doubt me?” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie reflected for a moment; and suddenly a brilliant inspiration + darted through his brain. “If you are speaking the truth, I shall soon be + rich,” said he. “But, in the meantime, life is hard. I haven’t a penny, + and it isn’t a pleasant situation. I have a horse entered for the race + to-morrow, Pompier de Nanterre. You know the animal very well. The chances + are enormously in his favor. So, if it wouldn’t inconvenience you to lend + me fifty louis.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” interrupted the viscount, cordially. “Certainly; with the + greatest pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + And drawing a beautiful little notebook from his pocket he took from it + not one, but two bank-notes of a thousand francs, and handed them to M. + Wilkie, saying: “Monsieur believes me now, does he not?” + </p> + <p> + As will be readily believed, it was not for his own pleasure that M. de + Coralth postponed his confidential disclosures for a couple of days. He + knew Wilkie perfectly well, and felt that it was dangerous to let him roam + about Paris with half of an important secret. Postponement generally + furnishes fate with weapons against oneself. But it was impossible for the + viscount to act otherwise. He had not seen the Marquis de Valorsay since + the Count de Chalusse’s death and he dared not conclude the contract with + Wilkie before he had conferred with him, for he was completely in the + marquis’s power. At the least suspicion of treason, M. de Valorsay would + close his hand, and he, Coralth, would be crushed like an egg-shell. It + was to the house of his formidable associate that he repaired on leaving + M. Wilkie; and in a single breath he told the marquis all that he knew, + and the plans that he had formed. + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay’s astonishment must have been intense when he heard that + Lia d’Argeles was a Chalusse, but he knew how to maintain his composure. + He listened quietly, and when the viscount had completed his story, he + asked: “Why did you wait so long before telling me all this?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t see how it could interest you in the least.” + </p> + <p> + The marquis looked at him keenly, and then calmly said: “In other words, + you were waiting to see whether it would be most advantageous to you to be + with me or against me.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you think——” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think, I’m sure of it. As long as I was strong support for you, + you were devoted to me. But now I am tottering, and you are ready to + betray me.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me! The step I am about to take——” + </p> + <p> + “What, haven’t you taken it already?” interrupted the marquis, quickly. + And shrugging his shoulders, he added: “Observe that I don’t reproach you + in the least. Only remember this: we survive or we perish together.” + </p> + <p> + By the angry gleam in M. de Coralth’s eyes, the marquis must have realized + that his companion was disposed to rebel; still this knowledge did not + seem to disquiet him, for it was in the same icy tone that he continued: + “Besides, your plans, far from conflicting with mine, will be of service + to me. Yes, Madame d’Argeles must lay claim to the count’s estate. If she + hesitates, her son will compel her to urge her claims, will he not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you may rest assured of that.” + </p> + <p> + “And when he becomes rich, will you be able to retain your influence over + him?” + </p> + <p> + “Rich or poor, I can mould him like wax.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. Marguerite was escaping me, but I shall soon have her in my + power. I have a plan. The Fondeges think they can outwit me, but we shall + soon see about that.” The viscount was watching his companion stealthily; + as the latter perceived, and so in a tone of brusque cordiality, he + resumed: “Excuse me for not keeping you to breakfast, but I must go out + immediately—Baron Trigault is waiting for me at his house. Let us + part friends—au revoir—and, above all, keep me well posted + about matters in general.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Coralth’s temper was already somewhat ruffled when he entered + Valorsay’s house; and he was in a furious passion when he left it. “So we + are to survive or perish together,” he growled. “Thanks for the preference + you display for my society. Is it my fault that the fool has squandered + his fortune? I fancy I’ve had enough of his threats and airs.” + </p> + <p> + Still his wrath was not so violent as to make him forget his own + interests. He at once went to inquire if the agreement which M. Wilkie had + just signed would be binding. The lawyer whom he consulted replied that, + at all events, a reasonable compensation would most probably be granted by + the courts, in case of any difficulty; and he suggested a little plan + which was a chef d’oeuvre in its way, at the same time advising his client + to strike the iron while it was hot. + </p> + <p> + It was not yet noon, and the viscount determined to act upon the + suggestion at once; he now bitterly regretted the delay he had specified. + “I must find Wilkie at once,” he said to himself. But he did not succeed + in meeting him until the evening, when he found him at the Cafe Riche—and + in what a condition too! The two bottles of wine which the young fool had + drank at dinner had gone to his head, and he was enumerating, in a loud + voice, the desires he meant to gratify as soon as he came into possession + of his millions. “What a brute!” thought the enraged viscount. “If I leave + him to himself, no one knows what foolish thing he may do or say. I must + remain with him until he becomes sober again.” + </p> + <p> + So he followed him to the theatre, and thence to Brebant’s, where he was + sitting feeling terribly bored, when M. Wilkie conceived the unfortunate + idea of inviting Victor Chupin to come up and take some refreshment. The + scene which followed greatly alarmed the viscount. Who could this young + man be? He did not remember having ever seen him before, and yet the young + scamp was evidently well acquainted with his past life, for he had cast + the name of Paul in his face, as a deadly insult. Surely this was enough + to make the viscount shudder! How did it happen that this young man had + been just on the spot ready to pick up Wilkie’s hat? Was it mere chance? + Certainly not. He could not believe it. Then why was the fellow there? + Evidently to watch somebody. And whom? Why, him—Coralth—undoubtedly. + </p> + <p> + In going through life as he had done, a man makes enemies at every step; + and he had an imposing number of foes, whom he only held in check by his + unbounded impudence and his renown as a duellist. Thus it was not strange + if some one had set a snare for him; it was rather a miracle that he had + not fallen into one before. The dangers that threatened him were so + formidable that he was almost tempted to relinquish his attack on Madame + d’Argeles. Was it prudent to incur the risk of making this woman an enemy? + All Sunday he hesitated. It would be very easy to get out of the scrape. + He could concoct some story for Wilkie’s benefit, and that would be the + end of it. But on the other hand, there was the prospect of netting at + least five hundred thousand francs—a fortune—a competency, and + the idea was too tempting to be relinquished. + </p> + <p> + So on Monday morning, at about ten o’clock, he presented himself at + Wilkie’s house, looking pale with anxiety, and far more solemn in manner + than usual. “Let us say but little, and that to the point,” he remarked on + entering. “The secret I am about to reveal to you will make you rich; but + it might ruin me if it were known that you obtained this information + through me. You will therefore swear, upon your honor as a gentleman, + never to betray me, under any circumstances, or for any reason.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie extended his hand and solemnly exclaimed: “I swear!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then. Now my mind is at rest. It is scarcely necessary for me + to add that if you break your faith you are a dead man. You know me. You + know how I handle a sword; and don’t forget it.” His manner was so + threatening that Wilkie shuddered. “You will certainly be questioned,” + continued M. de Coralth; “but you must reply that you received the + information through one of Mr. Patterson’s friends. Now let us sign our + formal contract in lieu of the temporary one you gave me the other day.” + </p> + <p> + It is needless to say that Wilkie signed it eagerly. Not so the viscount; + he read the document through carefully, before appending his signature, + and then exclaimed: “The estate that belongs to you is that of the Count + de Chalusse, your uncle. He leaves, I am informed, at least eight or ten + millions of property.” + </p> + <p> + By M. Wilkie’s excited gestures, by the glitter in his eyes, it might have + been supposed that this wonderful good fortune was too much for him, and + that he was going mad. “I knew that I belonged to a noble family,” he + began. “The Count de Chalusse my uncle! I shall have a coronet on the + corner of my visiting cards.” + </p> + <p> + But with a gesture M. de Coralth silenced him. “Wait a little before you + rejoice,” said he. “Yes, your mother is the sister of the Count de + Chalusse, and it is through her that you are an heir to the estate. But—don’t + grieve too much—there are similar misfortunes in many of our most + distinguished families—circumstances—the obstinacy of parents—a + love more powerful than reason——” The viscount paused, + certainly he had no prejudices; but at the moment of telling this + interesting young man who his mother really was, he hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” insisted M. Wilkie. + </p> + <p> + “Well—when your mother was a young girl, about twenty, she fled from + her paternal home with a man she loved. Forsaken afterward, she found + herself in the depths of poverty. She was obliged to live. You were + starving. So she changed her name, and now she is known as Lia d’Argeles.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie sprang to his feet. “Lia d’Argeles!” he exclaimed. Then, with a + burst of laughter, he added: “Nevertheless, I think it a piece of grand + good luck!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. + </h2> + <p> + “This man carries away your secret; you are lost.” A sinister voice + whispered these words in Madame Lia d’Argeles’s heart when M. Isidore + Fortunat, after being rudely dismissed, closed the door of her + drawing-room behind him. This man had addressed her by the ancient and + illustrious name of Chalusse which she had not heard for twenty years, and + which she had forbidden her own lips to pronounce. This man knew that she, + Lia d’Argeles, was really a Durtal de Chalusse. + </p> + <p> + This frightful certainty overwhelmed her. It is true this man Fortunat had + declared that his visit was entirely disinterested. He had pretended that + his regard for the Chalusse family, and the compassion aroused in his + heart by the unfortunate plight of Mademoiselle Marguerite, were the only + motives that has influenced him in taking this step. However, Madame + d’Argeles’s experience in life had left her but limited faith in apparent + or pretended disinterestedness. This is a practical age; chivalrous + sentiments are expensive—as she had learned conclusively. “If the + man came here,” she murmured, “it was only because he thought he might + derive some benefit from the prosecution of my claim to my poor brother’s + estate. In refusing to listen to his entreaties, I have deprived him of + this expected profit and so I have made him my enemy. Ah! I was foolish to + send him away like that! I ought to have pretended to listen—I ought + to have bound him by all sorts of promises.” + </p> + <p> + She suddenly paused. It occurred to her that M. Fortunat could not have + gone very far; so that, if she sent for him to come back, she might + perhaps be able to repair her blunder. Without losing a second, she rushed + downstairs, and ordered her concierge and a servant to run after the + gentleman who had just left the house, and ask him to return; to tell him + that she had reflected, and wished to speak to him again. They rushed out + in pursuit, and she remained in the courtyard, her heart heavy with + anxiety. Too late! About a quarter of an hour afterward her emissaries + returned. They had made all possible haste in contrary directions, but + they had seen no one in the street who at all resembled the person they + were looking for. They had questioned the shopkeepers, but no one had seen + him pass. “It doesn’t matter,” faltered Madame d’Argeles, in a tone that + belied her words. And, anxious to escape the evident curiosity of her + servants, she hastened back to the little boudoir where she usually spent + her mornings. + </p> + <p> + M. Fortunat had left his card—that is to say, his address—and + it would have been an easy matter to send a servant to his house. She was + strongly tempted to do so; but she ultimately decided that it would be + better to wait—that an hour more or less would make but little + difference. She had sent her trusty servant, Job, for Baron Trigault; he + would probably return with the baron at any moment; and the baron would + advise her. He would know at once what was the best course for her to + pursue. And so she waited for his coming in breathless anxiety; and the + more she reflected, the more imminent her peril seemed, for she realized + that M. Fortunat must be a very dangerous and cunning man. He had set a + trap for her, and she had allowed herself to be caught. Perhaps he had + only suspected the truth when he presented himself at the house. He had + suddenly announced the death of the Count de Chalusse; she had betrayed + herself; and any doubts he might have entertained were dispelled. “If I + had only had sufficient presence of mind to deny it,” she murmured. “If I + had only been courageous enough to reply that I knew absolutely nothing + about the person he spoke of. Ah! then he would have gone away convinced + that he was mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + But would the smooth-spoken visitor have declared that he knew everything, + if he had not really penetrated the mystery of her life? It was scarcely + probable. He had implored her to accept the property, if not for her own + sake at least for the sake of another. And when she asked him whom he + meant he had answered, “Mademoiselle Marguerite,” but he was undoubtedly + thinking of Wilkie. So this man, this Isidore Fortunat, knew that she had + a son. Perhaps he was even acquainted with him personally. In his anger he + would very likely hasten to Wilkie’s rooms and tell him everything. This + thought filled the wretched woman’s heart with despair. What! Had she not + yet expiated her fault? Must she suffer again? + </p> + <p> + For the first time a terrible doubt came over her. What she had formerly + regarded as a most sublime effort of maternal love, was, perhaps, even a + greater crime than the first she had committed. She had given her honor as + the price of her son’s happiness and prosperity. Had she a right to do so? + Did not the money she had lavished upon him contain every germ of + corruption, misfortune, and shame? How terrible Wilkie’s grief and rage + would be if he chanced to hear the truth! + </p> + <p> + Alas! he would certainly pay no heed to the extenuating circumstances; he + would close his ears to all attempts at justification. He would be + pitiless. He would have naught but hatred and scorn to bestow upon a + mother who had fallen from the highest rank in society down to everlasting + infamy. She fancied she heard him saying in an indignant voice, “It would + have been better to have allowed me to die of starvation than to have + given me bread purchased at such a price! Why have you dishonored me by + your ill-gotten wealth? Fallen, you might have raised yourself by honest + toil. You ought to have made me a laborer, and not a spoiled idler, + incapable of earning an honest livelihood. As the son of a poor, betrayed, + and deserted woman, with whom I could have shared my scanty earnings, I + might have looked the world proudly in the face. But where can the son of + Lia d’Argeles hide his disgrace after playing the gentleman for twenty + years with Lia d’Argeles’s money?” Yes, Wilkie would certainly say this if + he ever learned the truth; and he would learn it—she felt sure of + it. How could she hope to keep a secret which was known to Baron Trigault, + M. Patterson, the Viscount de Coralth, and M. Fortunat—four persons! + She had confidence in the first two; she believed she had a hold on the + third, but the fourth—Fortunat! + </p> + <p> + The hours went by; and still Job did not return. What was the meaning of + this delay? Had he failed to find the baron? At last the sound of + carriage-wheels in the courtyard made her start. “That’s Job!” she said to + herself. “He brings the baron.” + </p> + <p> + Alas! no. Job returned alone. And yet the honest fellow had spared neither + pains nor horseflesh. He had visited every place where there was the least + probability of finding the baron, and he was everywhere told that Baron + Trigault had not been seen for several days. “In that case, you ought to + have gone to his house. Perhaps he is there,” remarked Madame d’Argeles. + </p> + <p> + “Madame knows that the baron is never at home. I did go there, however, + but in vain.” + </p> + <p> + This chanced to be one of three consecutive days which Baron Trigault had + spent with Kami-Bey, the Turkish ambassador. It had been agreed between + them that they should play until one or the other had lost five hundred + thousand francs; and, in order to prevent any waste of “precious time,” as + the baron was wont to remark, they neither of them stirred from the Grand + Hotel, where Kami-Bey had a suite of rooms. They ate and slept there. By + some strange chance, Madame d’Argeles had not heard of this duel with + bank-notes, although nothing else was talked of at the clubs; indeed, the + Figaro had already published a minute description of the apartment where + the contest was going on; and every evening it gave the results. According + to the latest accounts, the baron had the advantage; he had won about two + hundred and eighty thousand francs. + </p> + <p> + “I only returned to inform madame that I had so far been unsuccessful,” + said Job. “But I will recommence the search at once.” + </p> + <p> + “That is unnecessary,” replied Madame d’Argeles. “The baron will + undoubtedly drop in this evening, after dinner, as usual.” + </p> + <p> + She said this, and tried her best to believe it; but in her secret heart + she felt that she could no longer depend upon the baron’s assistance. “I + wounded him this morning,” she thought. “He went away more angry than I + had ever seen him before. He is incensed with me; and who knows how long + it will be before he comes again?” + </p> + <p> + Still she waited, with feverish anxiety, listening breathlessly to every + sound in the street, and trembling each time she heard or fancied she + heard a carriage stop at the door. However, at two o’clock in the morning + the baron had not made his appearance. “It is too late—he won’t + come!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + But now her sufferings were less intolerable, for excess of wretchedness + had deadened her sensibility. Utter prostration paralyzed her energies and + benumbed her mind. Ruin seemed so inevitable that she no longer thought of + avoiding it; she awaited it with that blind resignation displayed by + Spanish women, who, when they hear the roll of thunder, fall upon their + knees, convinced that lightning is about to strike their defenceless + heads. She tottered to her room, flung herself on the bed, and instantly + fell asleep. Yes, she slept the heavy, leaden slumber which always follows + a great mental crisis, and which falls like God’s blessing upon a tortured + mind. On waking up, her first act was to ring for her maid, in order to + send a message to Job, to go out again in search of the baron. But the + faithful servant had divined his mistress’s wishes, and had already + started off of his own accord. It was past mid-day when he returned, but + his face was radiant; and it was in a triumphant voice that he announced: + “Monsieur le Baron Trigault.” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles sprang up, and greeted the baron with a joyful + exclamation. “Ah! how kind of you to come!” she exclaimed. “You are most + welcome. If you knew how anxiously I have been waiting for you!” He made + no reply. “If you knew,” continued Madame d’Argeles, “if you only knew.” + But she paused, for in spite of her own agitation, she was suddenly struck + by the peculiar expression on her visitor’s face. He was standing silent + and motionless in the centre of the room, and his eyes were fixed upon her + with a strange, persistent stare in which she could read all the + contradictory feelings which were battling for mastery in his mind—anger, + hatred, pity, and forgiveness. Madame d’Argeles shuddered. So her cup of + sorrow was not yet full. A new misfortune was about to fall upon her. She + had hoped that the baron would be able to alleviate her wretchedness, but + it seemed as if he were fated to increase it. “Why do you look at me like + that?” she asked, anxiously. “What have I done?” + </p> + <p> + “You, my poor Lia—nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “Then—what is it? Oh, my God! you frighten me.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it? Well, I am going to tell you,” he said, as he stepped forward + and took her hand in his own. “You know that I have been infamously duped + and deceived, that the happiness of my life has been destroyed by a + scoundrel who tempted the wife I so fondly loved to forget her duty, and + trample her honor under foot. You have heard my vows of vengeance if I + ever succeeded in discovering him. Ah, well, Lia, I have discovered him. + The man who stole my share of earthly happiness was the Count de Chalusse, + your brother.” + </p> + <p> + With a sudden gesture Madame d’Argeles freed her hand from the baron’s + grasp, and recoiled as terrified as if she had seen a spectre rise up + before her. Then with her hands extended as if to ward off the horrible + apparition, she exclaimed: “O, my God!” + </p> + <p> + A bitter smile curved the baron’s lips. “What do you fear?” he asked. + “Isn’t your brother dead? He has defrauded me alike of happiness and + vengeance!” + </p> + <p> + If her son’s life had depended on a single word, Madame d’Argeles could + not have uttered it. She knew what mental agony had urged the baron to a + sort of moral suicide, and led him to contract the vice in which he wasted + his life and squandered, or, at least risk, his millions. + </p> + <p> + “Nor is this all,” he continued. “Listen. As I have often told you, I was + sure that my wife became a mother in my absence. I sought the child for + years, hoping that through the offspring I might discover the father. Ah, + well! I’ve found what I sought, at last. The child is now a beautiful + young girl. She lives at the Hotel de Chalusse as your brother’s daughter. + She is known as Mademoiselle Marguerite.” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles listened, leaning against the wall for support, and + trembling like a leaf. Her reason was shaken by so many repeated blows, + and her son, her brother, Marguerite, Pascal Ferailleur, Coralth, Valorsay—all + those whom she loved or feared, or hated—rose like spectres before + her troubled brain. The horror of the truth exceeded her most frightful + apprehensions. The strangeness of the reality surpassed every flight of + fancy. And, moreover, the baron’s calmness increased her stupor. She so + often had heard him give vent to his rage and despair in terrible threats, + that she could not believe he would be thus resigned. But was his calmness + real? Was it not a mask, would not his fury suddenly break forth? + </p> + <p> + However, he continued, “It is thus that destiny makes us its sport—it + is thus that it laughs at our plans. Do you remember, Lia, the day when I + met you wandering through the streets of Paris—with your child in + your arms—pale and half dead with fatigue, faint for want of food, + homeless and penniless? You saw no refuge but in death, as you have since + told me. How could I imagine when I rescued you that I was saving my + greatest enemy’s sister from suicide—the sister of the man whom I + was vainly pursuing? And yet this might not be the end, if I chose to have + it otherwise. The count is dead, but I can still return him disgrace for + disgrace. He dishonored me. What prevents me from casting ineffaceable + opprobrium upon the great name of Chalusse, of which he was so proud? He + seduced my wife. To-day I can tell all Paris what his sister has been and + what she is to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Ah! it was this—yes, it was this that Madame d’Argeles had dreaded. + She fell upon her knees, and, with clasped hands she entreated: “Pity!—oh! + have pity—forgive me! Have mercy! Have I not always been a faithful + and devoted friend to you? Think of the past you have just invoked! Who + helped you then to bear your intolerable sufferings? Don’t you remember + the day when you, yourself, had determined to die by your own hand? There + was a woman who persuaded you to abandon the thought of suicide. It was + I!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her for a moment with a softer expression, tears came to his + eyes, and rolled down his cheeks. Then suddenly he raised her, and placed + her in an arm-chair, exclaiming: “Ah! you know very well that I shall not + do what I said. Don’t you know me better than that? Are you not sure of my + affection, are you not aware that you are sacred in my eyes?” He was + evidently striving hard to master his emotion. “Besides,” he added, “I had + already pardoned before coming here. It was foolish on my part, perhaps, + and for nothing in the world would I confess it to my acquaintances, but + it is none the less true. I shall have my revenge in a certain fashion, + however. I need only hold my peace, and the daughter of M. de Chalusse and + Madame Trigault would become a lost woman. Is this not so? Very well, I + shall offer her my assistance. It may, or may not, be another absurd and + ridiculous fancy added to the many I have been guilty of. But no matter. I + have promised. And why, indeed, should this poor girl be held responsible + for the sins of her parents? I—I declare myself on her side against + the world!” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles rose, her face radiant with joy and hope. “Then perhaps + we are saved!” she exclaimed. “Ah! I knew when I sent for you that I + should not appeal to your heart in vain!” + </p> + <p> + She took hold of his hand as if to raise it to her lips; but he gently + withdrew it, and inquired, with an air of astonishment: “What do you + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “That I have been cruelly punished for not wishing you to assist that + unfortunate man who was dishonored here the other evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Pascal Ferailleur?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is innocent. The Viscount de Coralth is a scoundrel. It was he + who slipped the cards which made M. Ferailleur win, into the pack, and he + did it at the Marquis de Valorsay’s instigation.” + </p> + <p> + The baron looked at Madame d’Argeles with pro-found amazement. “What!” + said he; “you knew this and you allowed it? You were cruel enough to + remain silent when that innocent man entreated you to testify on his + behalf! You allowed this atrocious crime to be executed under your own + roof, and under your very eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “I was then ignorant of Mademoiselle Marguerite’s existence. I did not + know that the young man was beloved by my brother’s daughter—I did + not know—” + </p> + <p> + The baron interrupted her, and exclaimed, indignantly: “Ah! what does that + matter? It was none the less an abominable action.” + </p> + <p> + She hung her head, and in a scarcely audible voice replied: “I was not + free. I submitted to a will that was stronger than my own. If you had + heard M. de Coralth’s threats you would not censure me so severely. He has + discovered my secret; he knows Wilkie—I am in his power. Don’t frown—I + make no attempt to excuse myself—I am only explaining the position + in which I was placed. My peril is imminent; I have only confidence in you—you + alone can aid me; listen!” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon she hastily explained M. de Coralth’s position respecting + herself, what she had been able to ascertain concerning the Marquis de + Valorsay’s plans, the alarming visit she had received from M. Fortunat, + his advice and insinuations, the dangers she apprehended, and her firm + determination to deliver Mademoiselle Marguerite from the machinations of + her enemies. Madame d’Argeles’s disclosures formed, as it were, a sequel + to the confidential revelations of Pascal Ferailleur, and the involuntary + confession of the Marquis de Valorsay; and the baron could no longer doubt + the existence of the shameful intrigue which had been planned in view of + obtaining possession of the count’s millions. And if he did not, at first, + understand the motives, he at least began to discern what means had been + employed. He now understood why Valorsay persisted in his plan of marrying + Mademoiselle Marguerite, even without a fortune. “The wretch knows through + Coralth that Madame d’Argeles is a Chalusse,” he said to himself; “and + when Mademoiselle Marguerite has become his wife, he intends to oblige + Madame d’Argeles to accept her brother’s estate and share it with him.” + </p> + <p> + At that same moment Madame d’Argeles finished her narrative. “And now, + what shall I do?” she added. + </p> + <p> + The baron was stroking his chin, as was his usual habit when his mind was + deeply exercised. “The first thing to be done,” he replied, “is to show + Coralth in his real colors, and prove M. Ferailleur’s innocence. It will + probably cost me a hundred thousand francs to do so, but I shall not + grudge the money. I should probably spend as much or even more in play + next summer; and the amount had better be spent in a good cause than in + swelling the dividends of my friend Blanc, at Baden.” + </p> + <p> + “But M. de Coralth will speak out as soon as he finds that I have revealed + his shameful past.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him speak.” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles shuddered. “Then the name of Chalusse will be disgraced,” + said she; “and Wilkie will know who his mother is.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “But——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! allow me to finish, my dear friend. I have my plan, and it is as + plain as daylight. This evening you will write to your London + correspondent. Request M. Patterson to summon your son to England, under + any pretext whatever; let him pretend that he wishes to give him some + money, for instance. He will go there, of course, and then we will keep + him there. Coralth certainly won’t run after him, and we shall have + nothing more to fear on that score.” + </p> + <p> + “Great heavens!” murmured Madame d’Argeles, “why did this idea never occur + to me?” + </p> + <p> + The baron had now completely recovered his composure. “As regards + yourself,” said he, “the plan you ought to adopt is still more simple. + What is your furniture worth? About a hundred thousand francs, isn’t it? + Very well, then. You will sign me notes, dated some time back, to the + amount of a hundred thousand francs. On the day these notes fall due, on + Monday, for instance, they will be presented for payment. You will refuse + to pay them. A writ will be served, and an attachment placed upon your + furniture; but you will offer no resistance. I don’t know if I explain my + meaning very clearly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very clearly!” + </p> + <p> + “So your property is seized. You make no opposition, and next week we + shall have flaming posters on all the walls, telling Paris that the + furniture, wardrobe, cashmeres, laces, and diamonds of Madame Lia + d’Argeles will be sold without reserve, at public auction, in the Rue + Drouot, with the view of satisfying the claims of her creditors. You can + imagine the sensation this announcement will create. I can see your + friends and the frequenters of your drawing-room meeting one another in + the street, and saying: ‘Ah, well! what’s this about poor d’Argeles?’ + ‘Pshaw!—no doubt it’s a voluntary sale.’ ‘Not at all; she’s really + ruined. Everything is mortgaged above its value.’ ‘Indeed, I’m very sorry + to hear it. She was a good creature.’ ‘Oh, excellent; a deal of amusement + could be found at her house,—only between you and me——’ + ‘Well?’ ‘Well, she was no longer young.’ ‘That’s true. However, I shall + attend the sale, and I think I shall bid.’ And, in fact, your + acquaintances won’t fail to repair to the Hotel Drouot, and maybe your + most intimate friends will yield to their generous impulses sufficiently + to offer twenty sous for one of the dainty trifles on your etageres.” + </p> + <p> + Overcome with shame, Madame d’Argeles hung her head. She had never before + so keenly felt the disgrace of her situation. She had never so clearly + realized what a deep abyss she had fallen into. And this crushing + humiliation came from whom? From the only friend she possessed—from + the man who was her only hope, Baron Trigault. + </p> + <p> + And what made it all the more frightful was, that he did not seem to be in + the least degree conscious of the cruelty of his words. Indeed, he + continued, in a tone of bitter irony: “Of course, you will have an + exhibition before the sale, and you will see all the dolls that + hairdressers, milliners and fools call great ladies, come running to the + show. They will come to see how a notorious woman lives, and to ascertain + if there are any good bargains to be had. This is the right form. These + great ladies would be delighted to display diamonds purchased at the sale + of a woman of the demi monde. Oh! don’t fear—your exhibition will be + visited by my wife and daughter, by the Viscountess de Bois d’Ardon, by + Madame de Rochecote, her five daughters, and a great many more. Then the + papers will take up the refrain; they will give an account of your + financial difficulties, and tell the public what you paid for your + pictures.” + </p> + <p> + It was with a sort of terror-stricken curiosity that Madame d’Argeles + watched the baron. It had been many years since she had seen him in such a + frame of mind—since she had heard him talk in such a cynical + fashion. “I am ready to follow your advice,” said she, “but afterward?” + </p> + <p> + “What, don’t you understand the object I have in view? Afterward you will + disappear. I know five or six journalists; and it would be very strange if + I could not convince one of them that you had died upon an hospital + pallet. It will furnish the subject of a touching, and what is better, a + moral article. The papers will say, ‘Another star has disappeared. This is + the miserable end of all the poor wretches whose passing luxury + scandalizes honest women.’” + </p> + <p> + “And what will become of me?” + </p> + <p> + “A respected woman, Lia. You will go to England, install yourself in some + pretty cottage near London, and create a new identity for yourself. The + proceeds of your sale will supply your wants and Wilkie’s for more than a + year. Before that time has elapsed you will have succeeded in accumulating + the necessary proofs of your identity, and then you can assert your claims + and take possession of your brother’s estate.” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles sprang to her feet. “Never never!” she exclaimed, + vehemently. + </p> + <p> + The baron evidently thought he must have misunderstood her. “What!” he + stammered; “you will relinquish the millions that are legally yours, to + the government?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I am resolved—it must be so.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you sacrifice your son’s future in this style?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn’t in my power to do that; but Wilkie will do so, later, on, + I’m sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is simply folly.” + </p> + <p> + A feverish agitation had now succeeded Madame d’Argeles’s torpor; there + was an expression of scorn and anger on her rigid features, and her eyes, + usually so dull and lifeless, fairly blazed. “It is not folly,” she + exclaimed, “but vengeance!” And as the astonished baron opened his lips to + question her: “Let me finish,” she said imperiously, “and then you shall + judge me. I have told you with perfect frankness everything concerning my + past life, save this—this—that I am married, Monsieur le + Baron, legally married. I am bound by a chain that nothing can break, and + my husband is a scoundrel. You would be frightened if you knew half the + extent of his villainy. Oh! do not shake your head. I ought not to be + suspected of exaggeration when I speak in this style of a man whom I once + loved so devotedly. For I loved him, alas!—even to madness—loved + him so much that I forgot self, family, honor, and all the most sacred + duties. I loved him so madly that I was willing to follow him, while his + hands were still wet with my brother’s blood. Ah! chastisement could not + fail to come, and it was terrible, like the sin. This man for whom I had + abandoned everything—whom I had made my idol—do you know what + he said to me the third day after my flight from home? ‘You must be more + stupid than an owl to have forgotten to take your jewels.’ Yes, those were + the very words he said to me, with a furious air. And then I could measure + the depths of the abyss into which I had plunged. This man, with whom I + had been so infatuated, did not love me at all, he had never loved me. It + had only been cold calculation on his part. He had devoted months to the + task of winning my heart, just as he would have devoted them to some + business transaction. He only saw in me the fortune that I was to inherit. + Oh! he didn’t conceal it from me. ‘If your parents are not monsters,’ he + was always saying, ‘they will finally become reconciled to our marriage. + They will give you a handsome fortune and we will divide it. I will give + you back your liberty, and then we can each of us be happy in our own + way.’ It was for this reason that he wished to marry me. I consented on + account of my unborn child. My father and mother had died, and he hoped to + prevail upon me to claim my share of the paternal fortune. As for claiming + it himself, he dared not. He was a coward, and he was afraid of my + brother. But I took a solemn oath that he should never have a farthing of + the wealth he coveted, and neither threats nor BLOWS could compel me to + assert my claim. God only knows how much I had suffered from his brutality + when I at last succeeded in making my escape with Wilkie. He has sought us + everywhere for fifteen years, but he has not yet succeeded in finding a + trace of us. Still he has not ceased to watch my brother. I am sure of + that, my presentiments never deceive me. So, if I followed your advice—if + I claimed possession of my brother’s fortune—my husband would + instantly appear with our marriage contract in his hands, and demand + everything. Shall I enrich him? No, never, never! I would rather die of + want! I would rather see Wilkie die of starvation before my very eyes!” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles spoke in that tone of concentrated rage which betrays + years of repressed passion and unflinching resolution. One could scarcely + hope to modify her views even by the wisest and most practical advice. The + baron did not even think of attempting to do so. He had known Madame + d’Argeles for years; he had seen so many proofs of her invincible energy + and determination. She possessed the distinguishing characteristic of her + family in a remarkable degree—that proverbial Chalusse obstinacy + which Madame Vantrasson had alluded to in her conversation with M. + Fortunat. + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a moment, and then, in a firm tone she said: “Still, I + will follow your advice in part, baron. This evening I will write to M. + Patterson and request him to send for Wilkie. In less than a fortnight I + shall have sold my furniture and disappeared. I shall remain poor. My + fortune is not so large as people suppose. No matter. My son is a man; he + must learn to earn his own living.” + </p> + <p> + “My banking account is always at your disposal, Lia.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, my friend, thanks a thousand times; but it will not be necessary + for me to accept your kind offer. When Wilkie was a child I did not + refuse. But now I would dig the ground with my own hands, rather than give + him a louis that came from you. You think me full of contradictions! + Perhaps I am. It is certain that I am no longer what I was yesterday. This + trouble has torn away the bandage that covered my eyes. I can see my + conduct clearly now, and I condemn it. I sinned for my son’s sake, more + than for my own. But I might have rehabilitated myself through him, and + now he will perhaps be dishonored through me.” Her breathing came short + and hard, and it was in a choked voice that she continued: “Wilkie shall + work for me and for himself. If he is strong, he will save us. If he is + weak—ah, well! we shall perish. But there has been cowardice and + shame enough! It shall never be said that I sacrificed the honor of a + noble name and the happiness of my brother’s child to my son. I see what + my duty is, and I shall do it.” + </p> + <p> + The baron nodded approvingly. “That’s no doubt right,” said he. “Only + allow me to tell you that all is not lost yet. The code has a weapon for + every just cause. Perhaps there will be a way for you to obtain and hold + your fortune independent of your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I made inquiries on the subject years ago, and I was told that it + would be impossible. Still, you might investigate the matter. I have + confidence in you. I know that you would not advise me rashly;—but + don’t delay. The worst misfortune would be less intolerable than this + suspense.” + </p> + <p> + “I will lose no time. M. Ferailleur is a very clever lawyer, I am told. I + will consult him.” + </p> + <p> + “And what shall I do about this man Fortunat, who called upon me?” + </p> + <p> + The baron reflected for a moment. “The safest thing would be to take no + action whatever at present,” he replied. “If he has any evil designs, a + visit or a letter from you would only hasten them.” + </p> + <p> + By the way Madame d’Argeles shook her head, it was easy to see that she + had very little hope. “All this will end badly,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + The baron shared her opinion, but he did not think it wise or kind to + discourage her. “Nonsense!” he said lightly, “luck is going to change; it + is always changing.” + </p> + <p> + Then as he heard the clock strike, he sprang from his arm-chair in dismay. + “Two o’clock,” he exclaimed, “and Kami-Bey is waiting for me. I certainly + haven’t been wasting time here, but I ought to have been at the Grand + Hotel at noon. Kami is quite capable of suspecting a man of any knavery. + These Turks are strange creatures. It’s true that I am now a winner to the + tune of two hundred and eighty thousand francs.” He settled his hat firmly + on his head, and opening the door, he added: “Good-by, my dear madame, I + will soon see you again, and in the meantime don’t deviate in the least + from your usual habits. Our success depends, in a great measure, upon the + fancied security of our enemies!” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles considered this advice so sensible that half an hour + later she went out for her daily drive in the Bois, little suspecting that + M. Fortunat’s spy, Victor Chupin, was dogging her carriage. It was most + imprudent on her part to have gone to Wilkie’s house on her return. She + incurred such a risk of awakening suspicion by wandering about near her + son’s home that she seldom allowed herself that pleasure, but sometimes + her anxiety overpowered her reason. So, on this occasion, she ordered the + coachman to stop near the Rue du Helder, and she reached the street just + in time to betray her secret to Victor Chupin, and receive a foul insult + from M. Wilkie. The latter’s cruel words stabbed her to the heart, and yet + she tried to construe them as mere proofs of her son’s honesty of feeling—as + proof of his scorn for the depraved creatures who haunt the boulevards + each evening. But though her energy was indomitable, her physical strength + was not equal to her will. On returning home, she felt so ill that she was + obliged to go to bed. She shivered with cold, and yet the blood that + flowed in her veins seemed to her like molten lead. The physician who was + summoned declared that her illness was a mere trifle, but prescribed rest + and quiet. And as he was a very discerning man, he added, not without a + malicious smile, that any excess is injurious—excess of pleasure as + well as any other. As it was Sunday, Madame d’Argeles was able to obey the + physician, and so she closed her doors against every one, the baron + excepted. Still, fearing that this seclusion might seem a little strange, + she ordered her concierge to tell any visitors that she had gone into the + country, and would not return until her usual reception-day. She would + then be compelled to open her doors as usual. For what would the habitues + of the house, who had played there every Monday for years, say if they + found the doors closed? She was less her own mistress than an actress—she + had no right to weep or suffer in solitude. + </p> + <p> + So, at about seven o’clock on Monday evening, although still grievously + suffering both in mind and body, she arranged herself to receive her + guests. From among all her dresses, she chose the same dark robe she had + worn on the night when Pascal Ferailleur was ruined at her house; and as + she was even paler than usual, she tried to conceal the fact by a prodigal + use of rouge. At ten o’clock, when the first arrivals entered the + brilliantly lighted rooms, they found her seated as usual on the sofa, + near the fire, with the same eternal, unchangeable smile upon her lips. + There were at least forty persons in the room, and the gambling had become + quite animated when the baron entered. Madame d’Argeles read in his eyes + that he was the bearer of good news. “Everything is going on well,” he + whispered, as he shook hands with her. “I have seen M. Ferailleur—I + wouldn’t give ten sous for Valorsay’s and Coralth’s chances.” + </p> + <p> + This intelligence revived Madame d’Argeles’s drooping spirits, and she + received M. de Coralth with perfect composure when he came to pay his + respects to her soon afterward. For he had the impudence to come, in order + to dispel any suspicions that might have been aroused anent his complicity + in the card-cheating affair. The hostess’s calmness amazed him. Was she + still ignorant of her brother’s death and the complications arising from + it, or was she only acting a part? He was so anxious and undecided, that + instead of mingling with the groups of talkers, he at once took a seat at + the card-table, whence he could watch the poor woman’s every movement. + </p> + <p> + Both rooms were full, and almost everybody was engaged in play, when, + shortly after midnight, a servant entered the room, whispered a few words + in his mistress’s ear, and handed her a card. She took it, glanced at it, + and uttered so harsh, so terrible, so heart-broken a cry, that several of + the guests sprang to their feet. “What is it? What is it?” they asked. She + tried to reply, but could not. Her lips parted, she opened her mouth, but + no sound came forth. She turned ghastly white under her rouge, and a wild, + unnatural light gleamed in her eyes. One curious guest, without a thought + of harm, tried to take the card, which she still held in her clinched + hand; but she repulsed him with such an imperious gesture that he recoiled + in terror. “What is it? What is the matter with her?” was the astonished + query on every side. + </p> + <p> + At last, with a terrible effort, she managed to reply, “Nothing.” And + then, after clinging for a moment to the mantel-shelf, in order to steady + herself, she tottered out of the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. + </h2> + <p> + It was not enough to tell M. Wilkie the secret of his birth. He must be + taught how to utilize the knowledge. The Viscount de Coralth devoted + himself to this task, and burdened Wilkie with such a host of injunctions, + that it was quite evident he had but a poor opinion of his pupil’s + sagacity. “That woman d’Argeles,” he thought, “is as sharp as steel. She + will deceive this young idiot completely, if I don’t warn him.” + </p> + <p> + So he did warn him; and Wilkie was instructed exactly what to do and say, + how to answer any questions, and what position to take up according to + circumstances. Moreover, he was especially enjoined to distrust tears, and + not to let himself be put out of countenance by haughty airs. The Viscount + spent at least an hour in giving explanations and advice, to the great + disgust of M. Wilkie, who, feeling that he was being treated like a child, + somewhat testily declared that he was no fool, and that he knew how to + take care of himself as well as any one else. Still, this did not prevent + M. de Coralth from persisting in his instructions until he was persuaded + that he had prepared his pupil for all possible emergencies. He then rose + to depart. “That’s all, I think,” he remarked, with a shade of uneasiness. + “I’ve traced the plan—you must execute it, and keep cool, or the + game’s lost.” + </p> + <p> + His companion rose proudly. “If it fails, it won’t be from any fault of + mine,” he answered with unmistakable petulance. + </p> + <p> + “Lose no time.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no danger of that.” + </p> + <p> + “And understand, that whatever happens, my name is not to be mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “If there should be any new revelations, I will inform you.” + </p> + <p> + “At the club?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but don’t be uneasy; the affair is as good as concluded.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + Wilkie gave a sigh of relief as he saw his visitor depart. He wished to be + alone, so as to brood over the delights that the future had in store for + him. He was no longer to be limited to a paltry allowance of twenty + thousand francs! No more debts, no more ungratified longings. He would + have millions at his disposal! He seemed to see them, to hold them, to + feel them gliding in golden waves between his fingers! What horses he + would have! what carriages! what mistresses! And a gleam of envy that he + had detected in M. de Coralth’s eyes put the finishing touch to his bliss. + To be envied by this brilliant viscount, his model and his ideal, what + happiness it was! + </p> + <p> + The reputation that Madame d’Argeles bore had at first cast a shadow over + his joy; but this shadow had soon vanished. He was troubled by no foolish + prejudices, and personally he cared little or nothing for his mother’s + reputation. The prejudices of society must, of course, be considered. But + nonsense! society has no prejudices nowadays when millionaires are + concerned, and asks no questions respecting their parents. Society only + requires passports of the indigent. Besides, no matter what Madame + d’Argeles might have done, she was none the less a Chalusse, the + descendant of one of the most aristocratic families in France. + </p> + <p> + Such were Wilkie’s meditations while he was engaged in dressing himself + with more than usual care. He had been quite shocked by the suggestion + that Madame d’Argeles might try to deny him, and he wished to appear + before her in the most advantageous light. His toilette was consequently a + lengthy operation. However, shortly after twelve o’clock he was ready. He + cast a last admiring glance at himself in the mirror, twirled his + mustaches, and departed on his mission. He even went on foot, which was a + concession to what he considered M. de Coralth’s absurd ideas. The aspect + of the Hotel d’Argeles, in the Rue de Berry, impressed him favorably, but, + at the same time, it somewhat disturbed his superb assurance. “Everything + is very stylish here,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + A couple of servants—the concierge and Job—were standing at + the door engaged in conversation. M. Wilkie approached them, and in his + most imposing manner, but not without a slight tremble in his voice, + requested to see Madame d’Argeles. “Madame is in the country,” replied the + concierge; “she will not return before this evening. If monsieur will + leave his card.” “Oh! that’s quite unnecessary. I shall be passing again.” + </p> + <p> + This, too, was in obedience to the instructions of M. de Coralth, who had + advised him not to send in his name, but to gain admission into Madame + d’Argeles’s presence as speedily as possible, without giving her time to + prepare herself for the interview; and Wilkie had ultimately decided that + these precautions might not prove as superfluous as he had at first + supposed. But this first mishap annoyed him extremely. What should he do? + how should he kill time till the evening? A cab was passing. He hired it + for a drive to the Bois, whence he returned to the boulevards, played a + game of billiards with one of the co-proprietors of Pompier de Nanterre, + and finally dined at the Cafe Riche, devoting as much time as possible to + the operation. He was finishing his coffee when the clock struck eight. He + caught up his hat, drew on his gloves, and hastened to the Hotel d’Argeles + again. + </p> + <p> + “Madame has not yet returned,” said the concierge, who knew that his + mistress had only just risen from her bed, “but I don’t think it will be + long. And if monsieur wishes—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied M. Wilkie brusquely, and he was going off in a furious + passion, when, on crossing the street, he chanced to turn his head and + notice that the reception rooms were brilliantly lighted up. “Ah! I think + that a very shabby trick!” grumbled the intelligent youth. “They won’t + succeed in playing that game on me again. Why, she’s there now!” + </p> + <p> + It occurred to him that Madame d’Argeles had perhaps described him to her + servants, and had given them strict orders not to admit him. “I’ll find + out if that is the case, even if I have to wait here until to-morrow + morning,” he thought, angrily. However, he had not been on guard very + long, when he saw a brougham stop in front of the mansion, whereupon the + gate opened, as if by enchantment. The vehicle entered the courtyard, + deposited its occupants, and drove away. A second carriage soon appeared, + then a third, and then five or six in quick succession. “And does she + think I’ll wear out my shoe-leather here, while everybody else is allowed + to enter?” he grumbled. “Never!—I’ve an idea.” And, without giving + himself time for further deliberation, he returned to his rooms, arrayed + himself in evening-dress, and sent for his carriage. “You will drive to + No.—in the Rue de Berry,” he said. “There is a soiree there, and you + can drive directly into the courtyard.” The coachman obeyed, and M. Wilkie + realized that his idea was really an excellent one. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he alighted, the doors were thrown open, and he ascended a + handsome staircase, heavily carpeted, and adorned with flowers. Two + liveried footmen were standing at the door of the drawing-room, and one of + them advanced to relieve Wilkie of his overcoat, but his services were + declined. “I don’t wish to go in,” said the young man roughly. “I wish to + speak with Madame d’Argeles in private. She is expecting me—inform + her. Here is my card.” + </p> + <p> + The servant was hesitating, when Job, suspecting some mystery perhaps, + approached. “Take in the gentleman’s card,” he said, with an air of + authority; and, opening the door of a small room on the left-hand side of + the staircase, he invited Wilkie to enter, saying, “If monsieur will be + kind enough to take a seat, I will summon madame at once.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie sank into an arm-chair, considerably overcome. The air of luxury + that pervaded the entire establishment, the liveried servants, the lights + and flowers, all impressed him much more deeply than he would have been + willing to confess. And in spite of his affected arrogance, he felt that + the superb assurance which was the dominant trait in his character was + deserting him. In his breast, moreover, in the place where physiologists + locate the heart, he felt certain extraordinary movements which strongly + resembled palpitations. For the first time it occurred to him that this + woman, whose peace he had come to destroy, was not only the heiress of the + Count de Chalusse’s millions, but also his mother, that is to say, the + good fairy whose protection had followed him everywhere since he entered + the world. The thought that he was about to commit an atrocious act + entered his mind, but he drove it away. It was too late now to draw back, + or even to reflect. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a door opposite the one by which he had entered opened, and + Madame d’Argeles appeared on the threshold. She was no longer the woman + whose anguish and terror had alarmed her guests. During the brief moment + of respite which fate had granted her, she had summoned all her energy and + courage, and had mastered her despair. She felt that her salvation + depended upon her calmness, and she had succeeded in appearing calm, + haughty, and disdainful—as impassive as if she had been a statue. + “Was it you, sir, who sent me this card?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + Greatly disconcerted, M. Wilkie could only bow and stammer out an almost + unintelligible answer. “Excuse me! I am much grieved, upon my word! I + disturb you, perhaps——” + </p> + <p> + “You are Monsieur Wilkie!” interrupted Madame d’Argeles, in a tone of + mingled irony and disdain. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, drawling out the name affectedly, “I am M. Wilkie.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you desire to speak with me?” inquired Madame d’Argeles, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “In fact—yes. I should like——” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. I will listen to you, although your visit is most inopportune, + for I have eighty guests or more in my drawing-room. Still, speak!” + </p> + <p> + It was very easy to say “speak,” but unfortunately for M. Wilkie he could + not articulate a syllable. His tongue was as stiff, and as dry, as if it + had been paralyzed. He nervously passed and repassed his fingers between + his neck and his collar, but although this gave full play to his cravat, + his words did not leave his throat any more readily. For he had imagined + that Madame d’Argeles would be like other women he had known, but not at + all. He found her to be an extremely proud and awe-inspiring creature, + who, to use his own vocabulary, SQUELCHED him completely. “I wished to say + to you,” he repeated, “I wished to say to you——” But the words + he was seeking would not come; and, so at last, angry with himself, he + exclaimed: “Ah! you know as well as I, why I have come. Do you dare to + pretend that you don’t know?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with admirably feigned astonishment, glanced + despairingly at the ceiling, shrugged her shoulders, and replied: “Most + certainly I don’t know—unless indeed it be a wager.” + </p> + <p> + “A wager!” M. Wilkie wondered if he were not the victim of some practical + joke, and if there were not a crowd of listeners hidden somewhere, who, + after enjoying his discomfiture, would suddenly make their appearance, + holding their sides. This fear restored his presence of mind. “Well, + then,” he replied, huskily, “this is my reason. I know nothing respecting + my parents. This morning, a man with whom you are well acquainted, assured + me that I was—your son. I was completely stunned at first, but after + a while I recovered sufficiently to call here, and found that you had gone + out.” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by a nervous laugh from Madame d’Argeles. For she was + heroic enough to laugh, although death was in her heart, and although the + nails of her clinched hands were embedded deep in her quivering flesh. + “And you believed him, monsieur?” she exclaimed. “Really, this is too + absurd! I—your mother! Why, look at me——” + </p> + <p> + He was doing nothing else, he was watching her with all the powers of + penetration he possessed. Madame d’Argeles’s laugh had an unnatural ring + that awakened his suspicions. All Coralth’s recommendations buzzed + confusedly in his ears, and he judged that the moment had come “to do the + sentimental,” as he would have expressed it. So he lowered his head, and + in an aggrieved tone, exclaimed: “Ah! you think it very amusing, I don’t. + Do you realize how wretched it makes one to live as utterly alone as a + leper, without a soul to love or care for you? Other young men have a + mother, sisters, relatives. I have no one! Ah! if—— But I only + have friends while my money lasts.” He wiped his eyes, dry as they were, + with his handkerchief, and in a still more pathetic tone, resumed: “Not + that I want for anything; I receive a very handsome allowance. But when my + relatives have given me the wherewithal to keep me from starving, they + imagine their duty is fulfilled. I think this very hard. I didn’t come + into the world at my own request, did I? I didn’t ask to be born. If I was + such an annoyance to them when I came into existence, why didn’t they + throw me into the river? Then they would have been well rid of me, and I + should be out of my misery!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped short, struck dumb with amazement, for Madame d’Argeles had + thrown herself on her knees at his feet. “Have mercy!” she faltered; + “Wilkie; my son, forgive me!” Alas! the unfortunate woman had failed in + playing a part which was too difficult for a mother’s heart. “You have + suffered cruelly, my son,” she continued; “but I—I—Ah! you + can’t conceive the frightful agony it costs a mother to separate from her + child! But you were not deserted, Wilkie; don’t say that. Have you not + felt my love in the air around you? YOU forgotten? Know, then, that for + years and years I have seen you every day, and that all my thoughts and + all my hopes are centered in you alone! Wilkie!” + </p> + <p> + She dragged herself toward him with her hands clasped in an agony of + supplication, while he recoiled, frightened by this outburst of passion, + and utterly amazed by his easily won victory. The poor woman misunderstood + this movement. “Great God!” she exclaimed, “he spurns me; he loathes me. + Ah! I knew it would be so. Oh! why did you come? What infamous wretch sent + you here? Name him, Wilkie! Do you understand, now, why I concealed myself + from you? I dreaded the day when I should blush before you, before my own + son. And yet it was for your sake. Death would have been a rest, a welcome + release for me. But your breath was ebbing away, your poor little arms no + longer had strength to clasp me round the neck. And then I cried: ‘Perish + my soul and body, if only my child can be saved!’ I believed such a + sacrifice permissible in a mother. I am punished for it as if it were a + crime. I thought you would be happy, my Wilkie. I said to myself that you, + my pride and joy, would move freely and proudly far above me and my shame. + I accepted ignominy, so that your honor might be preserved intact. I knew + the horrors of abject poverty, and I wished to save my son from it. I + would have licked up the very mire in your pathway to save you from a + stain. I renounced all hope for myself, and I consecrated all that was + noble and generous in my nature to you. Oh! I will discover the vile + coward who sent you here, who betrayed my secret. I will discover him and + I will have my revenge! You were never to know this, Wilkie. In parting + from you, I took a solemn oath never to see you again, and to die without + the supreme consolation of feeling your lips upon my forehead.” + </p> + <p> + She could not continue; sobs choked her utterance. And for more than a + minute the silence was so profound that one could hear the sound of low + conversation in the hall outside, the exclamations of the players as they + greeted each unexpected turn of luck, and occasionally a cry of “Banco!” + or “I stake one hundred louis!” Standing silent and motionless near the + window, Wilkie gazed with consternation at Madame d’Argeles, his mother, + who was crouching in the middle of the room with her face hidden in her + hands, and sobbing as if her heart would break. He would willingly have + given his third share in Pompier de Nanterre to have made his escape. The + strangeness of the scene appalled him. It was not emotion that he felt, + but an instinctive fear mingled with commiseration. And he was not only + ill at ease, but he was angry with himself for what he secretly styled his + weakness. “Women are incomprehensible,” he thought. “It would be so easy + to explain things quietly and properly, but they must always cry and have + a sort of melodrama.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the sound of footsteps near the door roused him from his stupor. + He shuddered at the thought that some one might come in. He hated the very + idea of ridicule. So summoning all his courage he went toward Madame + d’Argeles, and, raising her from the floor, he exclaimed: “Don’t cry so. + You grieve me, upon my word! Pray get up. Some one is coming. Do you hear + me? Some one is coming.” Thereupon, as she offered no resistance, he half + led, half carried her to an arm-chair, into which she sank heavily. “Now + she is going to faint!” thought Wilkie, in despair. What should he do? + Call for help? He dared not. However, necessity inspired him. He knelt at + Madame d’Argeles’s feet, and gently said: “Come, come, be reasonable! Why + do you give way like this? I don’t reproach you!” + </p> + <p> + Slowly, with an air of humility which was indescribably touching, she took + her hands from her face, and for the first time raised her tear-stained + eyes to her son’s. “Wilkie,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Madame!” + </p> + <p> + She heaved a deep sigh, and in a half-stifled voice: + </p> + <p> + “MADAME!” she repeated. “Will you not call me mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course—certainly. But—only you know it will take me + some time to acquire the habit. I shall do so, of course; but I shall have + to get used to it, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “True, very true!—but tell me it is not mere pity that leads you to + make this promise? If you should hate me—if you should curse me—how + should I bear it! Ah! when a woman reaches the years of understanding one + should never cease repeating to her: ‘Take care! Your son will be twenty + some day, and you will have to meet his searching gaze. You will have to + render an account of your honor to him!’ My God! If women thought of this, + they would never sin. To be reduced to such a state of abject misery that + one dares not lift one’s head before one’s own son! Alas! Wilkie, I know + only too well that you cannot help despising me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed. Not at all! What an idea!” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me that you forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + “I do, upon my word I do.” + </p> + <p> + Poor woman, her face brightened. She so longed to believe him! And her son + was beside her, so near that she felt his breath upon her cheek. It was he + indeed. Had they ever been separated? She almost doubted it, she had lived + so near him in thought. It was with a sort of ecstasy that she looked at + him. There was a world of entreaty in her eyes; they seemed to be begging + a caress; she raised her quivering lips to his, but he did not observe it. + For a long time she hesitated, fearing he might spurn her; but at last, + yielding to a supreme impulse, she threw her arms around his neck, drew + him toward her, and pressed him to her heart in a close embrace. “My son! + my son!” she repeated; “to have you with me again, after all these years!” + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, no whirlwind of passion was capable of carrying M. Wilkie + beyond himself. His emotion was now spent and his mind had regained its + usual indifference. He flattered himself that he was a man of mettle—and + he remained as cold as ice beneath his mother’s kisses. Indeed, he barely + tolerated them; and if he did allow her to embrace him, it was only + because he did not know how to refuse. “Will she never have done?” he + thought. “This is a pretty state of things! I must be very attractive. How + Costard and Serpillon would laugh if they saw me now.” Costard and + Serpillon were his intimate friends, the co-proprietors of the famous + steeplechaser. + </p> + <p> + In her rapture, however, Madame d’Argeles did not observe the peculiar + expression on her son’s face. She had compelled him to take a chair + opposite her, and, with nervous volubility, she continued: “If I don’t + deny myself the happiness of embracing you again, it is because I have not + broken the vow I took never to make myself known to you. When I entered + this room, I was firmly resolved to convince you, no matter how, that you + had been deceived. God knows that it was not my fault if I did not + succeed. There are some sacrifices that are above human strength.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie deigned to smile. “Oh! yes, I saw your little game,” he said, + with a knowing air. “But I had been well posted, and besides, it is not + very easy to fool me.” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles did not even hear him. “Perhaps destiny is weary of + afflicting us,” she continued; “perhaps a new life is about to begin. + Through you, Wilkie. I can again be happy. I, who for years have lived + without even hope. But will you have courage to forget?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + She hung her head, and in an almost inaudible voice replied, “The past, + Wilkie.” + </p> + <p> + But with an air of the greatest indifference, he snapped his fingers, and + exclaimed: “Nonsense! What is past is past. Such things are soon + forgotten. Paris has known many such cases. You are my mother; I care very + little for public opinion. I begin by pleasing myself, and I consult other + people afterward; and when they are dissatisfied, I tell them to mind + their own business.” + </p> + <p> + The poor woman listened to these words with a joy bordering on rapture. + One might have supposed that the strangeness of her son’s expressions + would have surprised her—have enlightened her in regard to his true + character—but no. She only saw and understood one thing—that + he had no intention of casting her off, but was indeed ready to devote + himself to her. “My God!” she faltered, “is this really true? Will you + allow me to remain with you? Oh, don’t reply rashly! Consider well, before + you promise to make such a sacrifice. Think how much sorrow and pain it + will cost you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have considered. It is decided—mother.” + </p> + <p> + She sprang up, wild with hope and enthusiasm. “Then we are saved!” she + cried. “Blessed be he who betrayed my secret! And I doubted your courage, + my Wilkie! At last I can escape from this hell! This very night we will + fly from this house, without one backward glance. I will never set foot in + these rooms again—the detested gamblers who are sitting here shall + never see me again. From this moment Lia d’Argeles is dead.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie positively felt like a man who had just fallen from the clouds. + “What, fly?” he stammered. “Where shall we go, then?” + </p> + <p> + “To a country where we are unknown, Wilkie—to a land where you will + not have to blush for your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “Trust yourself to me, my son. I know a pleasant village near London where + we can find a refuge. My connections in England are such that you need not + fear the obstacles one generally meets with among foreigners. M. + Patterson, who manages a large manufacturing establishment, will, I know, + be happy to be of service to us—but we shall not be indebted to any + one for long, now that you have resolved to work.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing these words, M. Wilkie sprang up in dismay. “Excuse me,” he + said, “I don’t understand you. You propose to set me to work in M. + Patterson’s factory? Well, to tell the truth, that doesn’t suit me at + all.” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to mistake M. Wilkie’s manner, his tone, or gesture. + They revealed him in his true character. Madame d’Argeles saw her terrible + mistake at once. The bandage fell from her eyes. She had taken her dreams + for realities, and the desires of her own heart for those of her son. She + rose, trembling with sorrow and with indignation. “Wilkie!” she exclaimed, + “Wilkie, wretched boy! what did you dare to hope?” + </p> + <p> + And, without giving him time to reply, she continued: “Then it was only + idle curiosity that brought you here. You wished to know the source of the + money which you spend like water. Very well, you may see for yourself. + This is a gambling house; one of those establishments frequented by + distinguished personages, which the police ignore, or which they cannot + suppress. The hubbub you hear is made by the players. Men are ruined here. + Some poor wretches have blown their brains out on leaving the house; + others have parted with the last vestige of honor here. And the business + pays me well. One louis out of every hundred that change hands falls to my + share. This is the source of your wealth, my son.” + </p> + <p> + This anger, which succeeded such deep grief—this outburst of + disdain, following such abject humility—considerably astonished M. + Wilkie. “Allow me to ask——” he began. + </p> + <p> + But he was not allowed a hearing. “Fool!” continued Madame d’Argeles, “did + nothing warn you that in coming here you would deprive yourself forever of + the income you received? Did no inward voice tell you that all would be + changed when you compelled me, Lia d’Argeles, to say, ‘Well, yes, it is + true; you are my son?’ So long as you did not know who and what I was, I + had a mother’s right to watch over you. I could help you without + disgracing you, without despising you. But now that you know me, and know + what I am, I can do nothing more for you—nothing! I would rather let + you starve than succor you, for I would rather see you dead than + dishonored by my money.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “What! would you still consent to receive the allowance I have made you, + even if I consented to continue it?” + </p> + <p> + Had a viper raised its head in M. Wilkie’s path he would not have recoiled + more quickly. “Never!” he exclaimed. “Ah, no! What do you take me for?” + </p> + <p> + This repugnance was sincere; there could be no doubt of that, and it + seemed to give Madame d’Argeles a ray of hope. “I have misjudged him,” she + thought. “Poor Wilkie! Evil advice has led him astray; but he is not bad + at heart. In that case, my poor child,” she said aloud, “you must see that + a new life is about to commence for you. What do you intend to do? How + will you gain a livelihood? People must have food, and clothes, and a roof + to shelter them. These things cost money. And where will you obtain it—you + who rebel at the very word work? Ah! if I had only listened to M. + Patterson. He was not blind like myself. He was always telling me that I + was spoiling you, and ruining your future by giving you so much money. Do + you know that you have spent more than fifty thousand francs during the + past two years? How have you squandered them? Have you been to the + law-school a dozen times? No. But you can be seen at the races, at the + opera, in the fashionable restaurants, and at every place of amusement + where a young man can squander money. And who are your associates? + Dissipated and heartless idlers, grooms, gamblers, and abandoned women.” + </p> + <p> + A sneer from M. Wilkie interrupted her. To think that any one should dare + to attack his friends, his tastes, and his pleasures. Such a thing was not + to be tolerated. “This is astonishing—astonishing, upon my word!” + said he. “You moralizing! that’s really too good! I should like a few + minutes to laugh; it is too ridiculous!” + </p> + <p> + Was he really conscious of the cruelty of his ironical words? The blow was + so terrible that Madame d’Argeles staggered beneath it. She was prepared + for anything and everything except this insult from her son. Still, she + accepted it without rebellion, although it was in a tone of heart-broken + anguish that she replied: “Perhaps I have no right to tell you the truth. + I hope the future will prove that I am wrong. However, you are without + resources, and you have no profession. Pray Heaven that you may never know + what it is to be hungry and to have no bread.” + </p> + <p> + For some time already the ingenious young man had shown unmistakable signs + of impatience. This gloomy prediction irritated him beyond endurance. + </p> + <p> + “All this is empty talk,” he interrupted. “I don’t mean to work, for it’s + not at all in my line. Still, I don’t expect to want for anything! That’s + plain enough, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles did not wince. “What do you mean to do then?” she asked, + coldly. “I don’t understand you.” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders impatiently. “Are we to keep up this farce for + ever?” he petulantly exclaimed. “It doesn’t take with me. You know what I + mean as well as I do. Why do you talk to me about dying of starvation? + What about the fortune?” + </p> + <p> + “What fortune?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? why, my uncle’s, of course! Your brother’s, the Count de Chalusse.” + </p> + <p> + Now M. Wilkie’s visit, manner, assurance, wheedling, and contradictions + were all explained. That maternal confidence which is so strong in the + hearts of mothers vanished from Madame d’Argeles’s for ever. The depths of + selfishness and cunning she discerned in Wilkie’s mind appalled her. She + now understood why he had declared himself ready to brave public opinion—why + he had proved willing to accept his share of the past ignominy. It was not + his mother’s, but the Count de Chalusse’s estate that he claimed. “Ah! so + you’ve heard of that,” she said, in a tone of bitter irony. And then, + remembering M. Isidore Fortunat, she asked: “Some one has sold you this + valuable secret. How much have you promised to pay him in case of + success?” + </p> + <p> + Although Wilkie prided himself on being very clever, he did not pretend to + be a diplomatist, and, indeed, he was greatly disconcerted by this + question; still, recovering himself, he replied: “It doesn’t matter how I + obtained the information—whether I paid for it, or whether it cost + me nothing—but I know that you are a Chalusse, and that you are the + heiress of the count’s property, which is valued at eight or ten millions + of francs. Do you deny it?” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles sadly shook her head. “I deny nothing,” she replied, “but + I am about to tell you something which will destroy all your plans and + extinguish your hopes. I am resolved, understand, and my resolution is + irrevocable, never to assert my rights. To receive this fortune, I should + be obliged to confess that Lia d’Argeles is a Chalusse—and that is a + confession which no consideration whatever will wring from me.” + </p> + <p> + She imagined that this declaration would silence and discomfit Wilkie, but + she was mistaken. If he had been obliged to depend upon himself he would + perhaps have been conquered by it; but he was armed with weapons which had + been furnished by the cunning viscount. So he shrugged his shoulders, and + coolly replied: “In that case we should remain poor, and the government + would take possession of our millions. One moment. I have something to say + in this matter. You may renounce your claim, but I shall not renounce + mine. I am your son, and I shall claim the property.” + </p> + <p> + “Even if I entreated you on my knees not to do so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles’s eyes flashed. “Very well. I will show you that this + estate can never be yours. By what right will you lay claim to it? Because + you are my son? But I will deny that you are. I will declare upon oath + that you are nothing to me, and that I don’t even know you.” + </p> + <p> + But even this did not daunt Wilkie. He drew from his pocket a scrap of + paper, and flourishing it triumphantly, he exclaimed: “It would be + extremely cruel on your part to deny me, but I foresaw such a contingency, + and here is my answer, copied from the civil code: ‘Article 341. Inquiry + as to maternity allowed, etc., etc.’” + </p> + <p> + What the exact bearing of Wilkie’s threat might be Madame d’Argeles did + not know. But she felt that this Article 341 would no doubt destroy her + last hope; for the person who had chosen this weapon from the code to + place it in Wilkie’s hand must have chosen it carefully. She understood + the situation perfectly. With her experience of life, she could not fail + to understand the despicable part Wilkie was playing. And though it was + not her son who had conceived this odious plot, it was more than enough to + know that he had consented to carry it into execution. Should she try to + persuade Wilkie to abandon this shameful scheme? She might have done so if + she had not been so horrified by the utter want of principle which she had + discovered in his character. But, under the circumstances, she realized + that any effort in this direction would prove unavailing. So it was purely + from a sense of duty and to prevent her conscience from reproaching her + that she exclaimed: “So you will apply to the courts in order to constrain + me to acknowledge you as my son?” + </p> + <p> + “If you are not reasonable——” + </p> + <p> + “That is to say, you care nothing for the scandal that will be created by + such a course. In order to prove yourself a member of the Chalusse family + you will begin by disgracing the name and dragging it through the mire.” + </p> + <p> + Wilkie had no wish to prolong this discussion. So much talk about an + affair, which, in his opinion, at least, was an extremely simple one, + seemed to him utterly ridiculous, and irritated him beyond endurance. “It + strikes me this is much ado about nothing,” he remarked. “One would + suppose, to hear you talk, that you were the greatest criminal in the + world. Goodness is all very well in its way, but there is such a thing as + having too much of it! Break loose from this life to-morrow, assume your + rightful name, install yourself at the Hotel de Chalusse, and in a week + from now no one will remember that you were once known as Lia d’Argeles. I + wager one hundred louis on it. Why, if people attempted to rake up the + past life of their acquaintances, they should have far too much to do. + Folks do not trouble themselves as to whether a person has done this or + that; the essential thing is to have plenty of money. And if any fool + speaks slightingly of you, you can reply: ‘I have an income of five + hundred thousand francs,’ and he’ll say no more.” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles listened, speechless with horror and disgust. Was it + really her son who was speaking in this style, and to her of all people in + the world? M. Wilkie misunderstood her silence. He had an excellent + opinion of himself, but he was rather surprised at the effect of his + eloquence. “Besides, I’m tired of vegetating, and having only one name,” + he continued. “I want to be on the move. Even with the small allowance + I’ve had, I have gained a very good position in society; and if I had + plenty of money I should be the most stylish man in Paris. The count’s + estate belongs to me, and so I must have it—in fact, I will have it. + So believe me when I tell you that it will be much better for you if you + acknowledge me without any fuss! Now, will you do so? No? Once, twice, + three times? Is it still no? Very well then; to-morrow, then, you may + expect an official notice. I wish you good-evening.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed; he was really going, for his hand was already on the door-knob. + But Madame d’Argeles detained him with a gesture. “One word more,” she + said, in a voice hoarse with emotion. + </p> + <p> + He scarcely deigned to come back, and he made no attempt to conceal his + impatience. “Well, what is it?” he asked, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to give you a bit of parting advice. The court will undoubtedly + decide in your favor; I shall be placed in possession of my brother’s + estate; but neither you nor I will have the disposal of these millions.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, though this fortune belongs to me, the control of it belongs to + your father.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie was thunderstruck. “To my father?” he exclaimed. “Impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “It is so, however; and you would not have been ignorant of the fact, if + your greed for money had not made you forget to question me. You believe + yourself an illegitimate child. Wilkie, you are mistaken. You are my + legitimate child. I am a married woman——” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” + </p> + <p> + “And my husband—your father—is not dead. If he is not here + now, threatening our safety, it is because I have succeeded in eluding + him. He lost all trace of us eighteen years ago. Since then he has been + constantly striving to discover us, but in vain. He is still watching, you + may be sure of that; and as soon as there is any talk of a law-suit + respecting the Chalusse property, you will see him appear, armed with his + rights. He is the head of the family—your master and mine. Ah! this + seems to disturb you. You will find him full of insatiable greed for + wealth, a greed which has been whetted by twenty years’ waiting. You may + yet see the day when you will regret the paltry twenty thousand francs a + year formerly given you by your poor mother.” + </p> + <p> + Wilkie’s face was whiter than his shirt. “You are deceiving me,” he + stammered. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow I will show you my marriage certificate.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it is locked up in a room which is now full of people.” + </p> + <p> + “And what was my father’s name?” + </p> + <p> + “Arthur Gordon—he is an American.” + </p> + <p> + “Then my name is Wilkie Gordon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And—-is my father rich?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he do?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything that a man can do when he has a taste for luxury and a horror + for work.” + </p> + <p> + This reply was so explicit in its brevity, and implied so many terrible + accusations, that Wilkie was dismayed. “The devil!” he exclaimed, “and + where does he live!” + </p> + <p> + “He lives at Baden or Homburg in the summer; in Paris or at Monaco in the + winter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh! oh!” ejaculated Wilkie, in three different tones. He knew what he + had to expect from such a father as that. Anger now followed stupor—one + of those terrible, white rages which stir the bile and not the blood. He + saw his hopes and his cherished visions fade. Luxury and notoriety, + high-stepping horses, yellow-haired mistresses, all vanished. He pictured + himself reduced to a mere pittance, and held in check and domineered over + by a brutal father. “Ah! I understand your game,” he hissed through his + set teeth. “If you would only quietly assert your rights, everything could + be arranged privately, and I should have time to put the property out of + my father’s reach before he could claim it. Instead of doing that—as + you hate me—you compel me to make the affair public, so that my + father will hear of it and defraud me of everything. But you won’t play + this trick on me. You are going to write at once, and make known your + claim to your brother’s estate.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you won’t? You refuse——” He approached threateningly, and + caught hold of her arm. “Take care!” he vociferated; “take care! Do not + infuriate me beyond endurance——” + </p> + <p> + As cold and rigid as marble, Madame d’Argeles faced him with the undaunted + glance of a martyr whose spirit no violence can subdue. “You will obtain + nothing from me,” she said, firmly; “nothing, nothing, nothing!” + </p> + <p> + Maddened with rage and disappointment, M. Wilkie dared to lift his hand as + if about to strike her. But at this moment the door was flung open, and a + man sprang upon him. It was Baron Trigault. + </p> + <p> + Like the other guests, the baron had seen the terrible effect produced + upon Madame d’Argeles by a simple visiting card. But he had this advantage + over the others: he thought he could divine and explain the reason of this + sudden, seemingly incomprehensible terror. “The poor woman has been + betrayed,” he thought; “her son is here!” Still, while the other players + crowded around their hostess, he did not leave the card-table. He was + sitting opposite M. de Coralth, and he had seen the dashing viscount start + and change color. His suspicions were instantly aroused, and he wished to + verify them. He therefore pretended to be more than ever absorbed in the + cards, and swore lustily at the deserters who had broken up the game. + “Come back, gentleman, come back,” he cried, angrily. “We are wasting + precious time. While you have been trifling there, I might have gained—or + lost—a hundred louis.” + </p> + <p> + He was nevertheless greatly alarmed, and the prolonged absence of Madame + d’Argeles increased his fears each moment. At the end of an hour he could + restrain himself no longer. So taking advantage of a heavy loss, he rose + from the table, swearing that the beastly turmoil of a few moments before + had changed the luck. Then passing into the adjoining drawing-room, he + managed to make his escape unobserved. “Where is madame?” he inquired of + the first servant he met. + </p> + <p> + “In the little sitting-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” + </p> + <p> + “No; a young gentleman is with her.” + </p> + <p> + The baron no longer doubted the correctness of his conjectures, and his + disquietude increased. Quickly, and as if he had been in his own house, he + hastened to the door of the little sitting-room and listened. At that + moment rage was imparting a truly frightful intonation to M. Wilkie’s + voice. The baron really felt alarmed. He stooped, applied his eye to the + keyhole, and seeing M. Wilkie with his hand uplifted, he burst open the + door and went in. He arrived only just in time to fell Wilkie to the + floor, and save Madame d’Argeles from that most terrible of humiliations: + the degradation of being struck by her own son. “Ah, you rascal!” cried + the worthy baron, transported with indignation, “you beggarly rascal! you + brigand! Is this the way you treat an unfortunate woman who has sacrificed + herself for you—your mother? You try to strike your mother, when you + ought to kiss her very footprints!” + </p> + <p> + As livid as if his blood had been suddenly turned to gall—with + quivering lips and eyes starting from their sockets—M. Wilkie rose, + with difficulty, to his feet, at the same time rubbing his left elbow + which had struck against the corner of a piece of furniture, in his fall. + “Scoundrel! You brutal scoundrel!” he growled, ferociously. And then, + retreating a step: “Who gave you permission to come in here?” he added. + “Who are you? By what right do you meddle with my affairs?” + </p> + <p> + “By the right that every honest man possesses to chastise a cowardly + rascal.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie shook his fist at the baron. “You are a coward yourself,” he + retorted. “You had better learn who you are talking to! You must mend your + manners a little, you old——” + </p> + <p> + The word he uttered was so vile that no man could fail to resent it, much + less the baron, who was already frantic with passion. His faced turned as + purple as if he were stricken with apoplexy, and such furious rage gleamed + in his eyes that Madame d’Argeles was frightened. She feared she should + see her son butchered before her very eyes, and she extended her arms as + if to protect him. “Jacques,” she said beseechingly, “Jacques!” + </p> + <p> + This was the name which was indelibly impressed upon Wilkie’s memory—the + name he had heard when he was but a child. Jacques—that was the name + of the man who had brought him cakes and toys in the comfortable rooms + where he had remained only a few days. He understood, or at least he + thought he understood, everything. “Ah, ha!” he exclaimed, with a laugh + that was at once both ferocious and idiotic. “This is very fine—monsieur + is the lover. He has the say here—he—” + </p> + <p> + He did not have time to finish his sentence, for quick as thought the + baron caught him by the collar, lifted him from the ground with + irresistible strength, and flung him on his knees at Madame d’Argeles’s + feet, exclaiming: “Ask her pardon, you vile wretch! Ask her pardon, or——” + “Or” meant the baron’s clinched fist descending like a sledge-hammer on M. + Wilkie’s head. + </p> + <p> + The worthy youth was frightened—so terribly frightened that his + teeth chattered. “Pardon!” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Louder—speak up better than that. Your mother must answer you!” + </p> + <p> + Alas! the poor woman could no longer hear. She had endured so much during + the past hour that her strength was exhausted, and she had fallen back in + her arm-chair in a deep swoon. The baron waited for a moment, and seeing + that her eyes remained obstinately closed, he exclaimed: “This is your + work, wretch!” + </p> + <p> + And lifting him again, as easily as if he had been a child, he set him on + his feet, saying in a calmer tone, but in one that admitted of no reply: + “Arrange your clothes and go.” + </p> + <p> + This advice was not unnecessary. Baron Trigault had a powerful hand; and + M. Wilkie’s attire was decidedly the worse for the encounter. He had lost + his cravat, his shirt-front was crumpled and torn, and his waistcoat—one + of those that open to the waist and are fastened by a single button—hung + down in the most dejected manner. He obeyed the baron’s order without a + word, but not without considerable difficulty, for his hands trembled like + a leaf. When he had finished, the baron exclaimed: “Now be off; and never + set foot here again—understand me—never set foot here again, + never!” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie made no reply until he reached the door leading into the hall. + But when he had opened it, he suddenly regained his powers of speech. “I’m + not afraid of you,” he cried, with frantic violence. “You have taken + advantage of your superior strength—you are a coward. But this shall + not end here. No!—you shall answer for it. I shall find your + address, and to-morrow you will receive a visit from my friends M. Costard + and M. Serpillon. I am the insulted party—and I choose swords!” + </p> + <p> + A frightful oath from the baron somewhat hastened M. Wilkie’s exit. He + went out into the hall, and holding the door open, in a way that would + enable him to close it at the shortest notice, he shouted back, so as to + be heard by all the servants: “Yes; I will have satisfaction. I will not + stand such treatment. Is it any fault of mine that Madame d’Argeles is a + Chalusse, and that she wishes to defraud me of my fortune. To-morrow, I + call you all to witness, there will be a lawyer here. You don’t frighten + me. Here is my card!” And actually, before he closed the door, he threw + one of his cards into the middle of the room. + </p> + <p> + The baron did not trouble himself to pick it up; his attention was devoted + to Madame d’Argeles. She was lying back in her arm-chair, white, + motionless and rigid, to all appearance dead. What should the baron do? He + did not wish to call the servants; they had heard too much already—but + he had almost decided to do so, when his eyes fell upon a tiny aquarium, + in a corner of the room. He dipped his handkerchief in it; and alternately + bathed Madame d’Argeles’s temples and chafed her hands. It was not long + before the cold water revived her. She trembled, a convulsive shudder + shook her from head to foot, and at last she opened her eyes, murmuring: + “Wilkie!” + </p> + <p> + “I have sent him away,” replied the baron. + </p> + <p> + Poor woman! with returning life came the consciousness of the terrible + reality. “He is my son!” she moaned, “my son, my Wilkie!” Then with a + despairing gesture she pressed her hands to her forehead as if to calm its + throbbings. “And I believed that my sin was expiated,” she pursued. “I + thought I had been sufficiently punished. Fool that I was! This is my + chastisement, Jacques. Ah! women like me have no right to be mothers!” + </p> + <p> + A burning tear coursed down the baron’s cheek; but he concealed his + emotion as well as he could, and said, in a tone of assumed gayety: + “Nonsense! Wilkie is young—he will mend his ways! We were all + ridiculous when we were twenty. We have all caused our mothers many + anxious nights. Time will set everything to rights, and put some ballast + in this young madcap’s brains. Besides, your friend Patterson doesn’t seem + to me quite free from blame. In knowledge of books, he may have been + unequalled; but as a guardian for youth, he must have been the worst of + fools. After keeping your son on a short allowance for years, he suddenly + gorges him with oats—or I should say, money—lets him loose; + and then seems surprised because the boy is guilty of acts of folly. It + would be a miracle if he were not. So take courage, and hope for the best, + my dear Lia.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head despondingly. “Do you suppose that my heart hasn’t + pleaded for him?” she said. “I am his mother; I can never cease to love + him, whatever he may do. Even now I am ready to give a drop of blood for + each tear I can save him. But I am not blind; I have read his nature. + Wilkie has no heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my dear friend, how do you know what shameful advice he may have + received before coming to you?” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles half rose, and said, in an agitated voice: “What! you try + to make me believe that? ‘Advice!’ Then he must have found a man who said + to him: ‘Go to the house of this unfortunate woman who gave you birth, and + order her to publish her dishonor and yours. If she refuses, insult and + beat her! ‘You know, even better than I, baron, that this is impossible. + In the vilest natures, and when every other honorable feeling has been + lost, love for one’s mother survives. Even convicts deprive themselves of + their wine, and sell their rations, in order to send a trifle now and then + to their mothers—while he——” + </p> + <p> + She paused, not because she shrunk from what she was about to say, but + because she was exhausted and out of breath. She rested for a moment, and + then resumed in a calmer tone: “Besides, the person who sent him here had + counselled coolness and prudence. I discovered this at once. It was only + toward the close of the interview, and after an unexpected revelation from + me, that he lost all control over himself. The thought that he would lose + my brother’s millions crazed him. Oh! that fatal and accursed money! + Wilkie’s adviser wished him to employ legal means to obtain an + acknowledgment of his parentage; and he had copied from the Code a clause + which is applicable to this case. By this one circumstance I am convinced + that his adviser is a man of experience in such matters—in other + words, the business agent——” + </p> + <p> + “What business agent?” inquired the baron. + </p> + <p> + “The person who called here the other day, M. Isidore Fortunat. Ah! why + didn’t I not bribe him to hold his peace?” + </p> + <p> + The baron had entirely forgotten the existence of Victor Chupin’s + honorable employer. “You are mistaken, Lia,” he replied. “M. Fortunat has + had no hand in this.” + </p> + <p> + “Then who could have betrayed my secret?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, your former ally, the rascal for whose sake you allowed Pascal + Ferailleur to be sacrificed—the Viscount de Coralth!” + </p> + <p> + The bare supposition of such treachery on the viscount’s part brought a + flush of indignant anger to Madame d’Argeles’s cheek. “Ah! if I thought + that!” she exclaimed. And then, remembering what reasons the baron had for + hating M. de Coralth, she murmured: “No! Your animosity misleads you—he + wouldn’t dare!” + </p> + <p> + The baron read her thoughts. “So you are persuaded that it is personal + vengeance that I am pursuing?” said he. “You think that fear of ridicule + and public odium prevents me from striking M. de Coralth in my own name, + and that I am endeavoring to find some other excuse to crush him. This + might have been so once; but it is not the case now. When I promised M. + Ferailleur to do all in my power to save the young girl he loves, + Mademoiselle Marguerite, my wife’s daughter, I renounced all thought of + self, all my former plans. And why should you doubt Coralth’s treachery? + You, yourself, promised me to unmask HIM. If he has betrayed YOU, my poor + Lia, he has only been a little in advance of you.” + </p> + <p> + She hung her head and made no reply. She had forgotten this. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” continued the baron, “you ought to know that when I make such a + statement I have some better foundation for it than mere conjecture. It + was to some purpose that I watched M. de Coralth during your absence. When + the servant handed you that card he turned extremely pale. Why? Because he + knew whose card it was. After you left the room his hands trembled like + leaves, and his mind was no longer occupied with the game. He—who is + usually such a cautious player—risked his money recklessly. When the + cards came to him he did still worse; and though luck favored him, he made + the strangest blunders, and lost. His agitation and preoccupation were so + marked as to attract attention; and one acquaintance laughingly inquired + if he were ill, while another jestingly remarked that he had dined and + wined a little too much. The traitor was evidently on coals of fire. I + could see the perspiration on his forehead, and each time the door opened + or shut, he changed color, as if he expected to see you and Wilkie enter. + A dozen times I surprised him listening eagerly, as if by dint of + attention, or by the magnetic force of his will, he hoped to hear what you + and your son were saying. With a single word I could have wrung a + confession from him.” + </p> + <p> + This explanation was so plausible that Madame d’Argeles felt half + convinced. “Ah! if you had only spoken that word!” she murmured. The baron + smiled a crafty and malicious smile, which would have chilled M. de + Coralth’s very blood if he had chanced to see it. “I am not so stupid!” he + replied. “We mustn’t frighten the fish till we are quite ready. Our net is + the Chalusse estate, and Coralth and Valorsay will enter it of their own + accord. It is not my plan, but M. Ferailleur’s. There’s a man for you! and + if Mademoiselle Marguerite is worthy of him they will make a noble pair. + Without suspecting it, your son has perhaps rendered us an important + service this evening—” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” faltered Madame d’Argeles, “I am none the less ruined—the + name of Chalusse is none the less dishonored!” + </p> + <p> + She wanted to return to the drawing-room; but she was compelled to + relinquish this idea. The expression of her face betrayed too plainly the + terrible ordeal she had passed through. The servants had heard M. Wilkie’s + parting words; and news of this sort flies about with the rapidity of + lightning. That very night, indeed, it was currently reported at the clubs + that there would be no more card-playing at the d’Argeles establishment, + as that lady was a Chalusse, and consequently the aunt of the beautiful + young girl whom M. and Madame de Fondege had taken under their protection. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. + </h2> + <p> + Unusual strength of character, unbounded confidence in one’s own energy, + with thorough contempt of danger, and an invincible determination to + triumph or perish, are all required of the person who, like Mademoiselle + Marguerite, intrusts herself to the care of strangers—worse yet, to + the care of actual enemies. It is no small matter to place yourself in the + power of smooth-tongued hypocrites and impostors, who are anxious for your + ruin, and whom you know to be capable of anything. And the task is a + mighty one—to brave unknown dangers, perilous seductions, perfidious + counsels, and perhaps even violence, at the same time retaining a calm eye + and smiling lips. Yet such was the heroism that Marguerite, although + scarcely twenty, displayed when she left the Hotel de Chalusse to accept + the hospitality of the Fondege family. And, to crown all, she took Madame + Leon with her—Madame Leon, whom she knew to be the Marquis de + Valorsay’s spy. + </p> + <p> + But, brave as she was, when the moment of departure came her heart almost + failed her. There was despair in the parting glance she cast upon the + princely mansion and the familiar faces of the servants. And there was no + one to encourage or sustain her. Ah, yes! standing at a window on the + second floor, with his forehead pressed close against the pane of glass, + she saw the only friend she had in the world—the old magistrate who + had defended, encouraged, and sustained her—the man who had promised + her his assistance and advice, and prophesied ultimate success. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I be a coward?” she thought; “shall I be unworthy of Pascal?” And + she resolutely entered the carriage, mentally exclaiming: “The die is + cast!” + </p> + <p> + The General insisted that she should take a place beside Madame de Fondege + on the back seat; while he found a place next to Madame Leon on the seat + facing them. The drive was a silent and tedious one. The night was coming + on; it was a time when all Paris was on the move, and the carriage was + delayed at each street corner by a crowd of passing vehicles. The + conversation was solely kept alive by the exertions of Madame de Fondege, + whose shrill voice rose above the rumble of the wheels, as she chronicled + the virtues of the late Count de Chalusse, and congratulated Mademoiselle + Marguerite on the wisdom of her decision. Her remarks were of a + commonplace description, and yet each word she uttered evinced intense + satisfaction, almost delight, as if she had won some unexpected victory. + Occasionally, the General leaned from the carriage window to see if the + vehicle laden with Mademoiselle Marguerite’s trunks was following them, + but he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + At last they reached his residence in the Rue Pigalle. He alighted first, + offered his hand successively to his wife, Mademoiselle Marguerite, and + Madame Leon, and motioned the coachman to drive away. + </p> + <p> + But the man did not stir. “Pardon—excuse me, monsieur,” he said, + “but my employers bade—requested me——” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “To ask you—you know, for the fare—thirty-five francs—not + counting the little gratuity.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well!—I will pay you to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, monsieur; but if it is all the same to you, would you do so + this evening? My employer said that the bill had been standing a long time + already.” + </p> + <p> + “What, scoundrel!” + </p> + <p> + But Madame de Fondege, who was on the point of entering the house, + suddenly stepped back, and drawing out her pocketbook, exclaimed: “That’s + enough! Here are thirty-five francs.” + </p> + <p> + The man went to his carriage lamp to count the money, and seeing that he + had the exact amount—“And my gratuity?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I give none to insolent people,” replied the General. + </p> + <p> + “You should take a cab if you haven’t money enough to pay for coaches,” + replied the driver with an oath. “I’ll be even with you yet.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite heard no more, for Madame de Fondege caught her by the arm and + hurried her up the staircase, saying: “Quick! we must make haste. Your + baggage is here already, and we must see if the rooms I intended for you—for + you and your companion—suit you.” + </p> + <p> + When Marguerite reached the second floor, Madame de Fondege hunted in her + pocket for her latch-key. Not finding it, she rang. A tall man-servant of + impudent appearance and arrayed in a glaring livery opened the door, + carrying an old battered iron candlestick, in which a tiny scrap of candle + was glaring and flickering. “What!” exclaimed Madame de Fondege, “the + reception-room not lighted yet? This is scandalous! What have you been + doing in my absence? Come, make haste. Light the lamp. Tell the cook that + I have some guests to dine with me. Call my maid. See that M. Gustave’s + room is in order. Go down and see if the General doesn’t need your + assistance about the baggage.” + </p> + <p> + Finding it difficult to choose between so many contradictory orders, the + servant did not choose at all. He placed his rusty candlestick on one of + the side-tables in the reception-room, and gravely, without saying a + single word, went out into the passage leading to the kitchen. “Evariste!” + cried Madame de Fondege, crimson with anger, “Evariste, you insolent + fellow!” + </p> + <p> + As he deigned no reply, she rushed out in pursuit of him. And soon the + sound of a violent altercation arose; the servant lavishing insults upon + his mistress, and she unable to find any response, save, “I dismiss you; + you are an insolent scamp—I dismiss you.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Leon, who was standing near Mademoiselle Marguerite in the + reception-room, seemed greatly amused. “This is a strange household,” said + she. “A fine beginning, upon my word.” + </p> + <p> + But the worthy housekeeper was the last person on earth to whom + Mademoiselle Marguerite wished to reveal her thoughts. “Hush, Leon,” she + replied. “We are the cause of all this disturbance, and I am very sorry + for it.” + </p> + <p> + The retort that rose to the housekeeper’s lips was checked by the return + of Madame de Fondege, followed by a servant-girl with a turn-up nose, a + pert manner, and who carried a lighted candle in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “How can I apologize, madame,” began Mademoiselle Marguerite, “for all the + trouble I am giving you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my dear child, I’ve never been so happy. Come, come, and see your + room.” And while they crossed several scantily-furnished apartments, + Madame de Fondege continued: “It is I who ought to apologize to you. I + fear you will pine for the splendors of the Hotel de Chalusse. We are not + millionaires like your poor father. We have only a modest competence, no + more. But here we are!” + </p> + <p> + The maid had opened a door, and Mademoiselle Marguerite entered a + good-sized room lighted by two windows, hung with soiled wall paper, and + adorned with chintz curtains, from which the sun had extracted most of the + coloring. Everything was in disorder here, and in fact, the whole room was + extremely dirty. The bed was not made, the washstand was dirty, some + woollen stockings were hanging over the side of the rumpled bed, and on + the mantel-shelf stood an ancient clock, an empty beer bottle, and some + glasses. On the floor, on the furniture, in the corners, everywhere in + fact, stumps of cigars were scattered in profusion, as if they had + positively rained down. + </p> + <p> + “What!” gasped Madame de Fondege, “you haven’t put this room in order, + Justine?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, madame, I haven’t had time.” + </p> + <p> + “But it’s more than a month since M. Gustave slept here?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it; but madame must remember that I have been very much hurried + this last month, having to do all the washing and ironing since the + laundress——” + </p> + <p> + “That’s sufficient,” interrupted Madame de Fondege. And turning to + Marguerite, she said: “You will, I am sure, excuse this disorder, my dear + child. By this time to-morrow the room shall be transformed into one of + those dainty nests of muslin and flowers which young girls delight in.” + </p> + <p> + Connected with this apartment, which was known to the household as the + lieutenant’s room, there was a much smaller chamber lighted only by a + single window, and originally intended for a dressing-room. It had two + doors, one of them communicating with Marguerite’s room, and the other + with the passage; and it was now offered to Madame Leon, who on comparing + these quarters with the spacious suite of rooms she had occupied at the + Hotel de Chalusse, had considerable difficulty in repressing a grimace. + Still she did not hesitate nor even murmur. M. de Valorsay’s orders bound + her to Marguerite, and she deemed it fortunate that she was allowed to + follow her. And whether the marquis succeeded or not, he had promised her + a sufficiently liberal reward to compensate for all personal discomfort. + So, in the sweetest of voices, and with a feigned humility of manner, she + declared this little room to be even much too good for a poor widow whose + misfortunes had compelled her to abdicate her position in society. + </p> + <p> + The attentions which M. and Madame de Fondege showed her contributed not a + little to her resignation. Without knowing exactly what the General and + his wife expected from Mademoiselle Marguerite, she was shrewd enough to + divine that they hoped to gain some important advantage. Now her “dear + child” had declared her to be a trusted friend, who was indispensable to + her existence and comfort. “So these people will pay assiduous court to + me,” she thought. And being quite ready to play a double part as the spy + of the Marquis de Valorsay, and the Fondege family, and quite willing to + espouse the latter’s cause should that prove to be the more remunerative + course, she saw a long series of polite attentions and gifts before her. + </p> + <p> + That very evening her prophecies were realized; and she received a proof + of consideration which positively delighted her. It was decided that she + should take her meals at the family table, a thing which had never + happened at the Hotel de Chalusse. Mademoiselle Marguerite raised a few + objections, which Madame Leon answered with a venomous look, but Madame de + Fondege insisted upon the arrangement, not understanding, she said, + graciously, why they need deprive themselves of the society of such an + agreeable and distinguished person. Madame Leon in no wise doubted but + this favor was due to her merit alone, but Mademoiselle Marguerite, who + was more discerning, saw that their hostess was really furious at the + idea, but was compelled to submit to it by the imperious necessity of + preventing Madame Leon from coming in contact with the servants, who might + make some decidedly compromising disclosures. For there were evidently + many little mysteries and make-shifts to be concealed in this household. + For instance, while the servants were carrying the luggage upstairs, + Marguerite discovered Madame de Fondege and her maid in close + consultation, whispering with that volubility which betrays an unexpected + and pressing perplexity. What were they talking about? She listened + without any compunctions of conscience, and the words “a pair of sheets,” + repeated again and again, furnished her with abundant food for reflection. + “Is it possible,” she thought, “that they have no sheets to give us?” + </p> + <p> + It did not take her long to discover the maid’s opinion of the + establishment in which she served; for while she brandished her broom and + duster, this girl, exasperated undoubtedly by the increase of work she saw + in store for her, growled and cursed the old barrack where one was worked + to death, where one never had enough to eat, and where the wages were + always in arrears. Mademoiselle Marguerite was doing her best to aid the + maid, who was greatly surprised to find this handsome, queenly young lady + so obliging, when Evariste, the same who had received warning an hour + before, made his appearance, and announced in an insolent tone that + “Madame la Comtesse was served.” + </p> + <p> + For Madame de Fondege exacted this title. She had improvised it, as her + husband had improvised his title of General, and without much more + difficulty. By a search in the family archives she had discovered—so + she declared to her intimate friends—that she was the descendant of + a noble family, and that one of her ancestors had held a most important + position at the court of Francis I. or of Louis XII. Indeed, she sometimes + confounded them. However, people who had not known her father, the wood + merchant, saw nothing impossible in the statements. + </p> + <p> + Evariste was dressed as a butler should be dressed when he announces + dinner to a person of rank. In the daytime when he discharged the duties + of footman, he was gorgeous in gold lace; but in the evening, he arrayed + himself in severe black, such as is appropriate to the butler of an + aristocratic household. Immediately after his announcement everybody + repaired to the sumptuous dining-room which, with its huge side-boards, + loaded with silver and rare china, looked not unlike a museum. Such was + the display, indeed, that when Mademoiselle Marguerite took a seat at the + table, between the General and his wife, and opposite Madame Leon, she + asked herself if she had not been the victim of that dangerous optical + delusion known as prejudice. She noticed that the supply of knives and + forks was rather scanty; but many economical housewives keep most of their + silver under lock and key; besides the china was very handsome and marked + with the General’s monogram, surmounted by his wife’s coronet. + </p> + <p> + However, the dinner was badly cooked and poorly served. One might have + supposed it to be a scullery maid’s first attempt. Still the General + devoured it with delight. He partook ravenously of every dish, a flush + rose to his cheeks, and an expression of profound satisfaction was visible + upon his countenance. “From this,” thought Mademoiselle Marguerite, “I + must infer that he usually goes hungry, and that this seems a positive + feast to him.” In fact, he seemed bubbling over with contentment. He + twirled his mustaches a la Victor Emmanuel, and rolled his “r,” as he + said, “Sacr-r-r-r-r-e bleu!” even more ferociously than usual. It was only + by a powerful effort that he restrained himself from indulging in various + witticisms which would have been most unseemly in the presence of a poor + girl who had just lost her father and all her hopes of fortune. But he did + forget himself so much as to say that the drive to the cemetery had + whetted his appetite, and to address his wife as Madame Range-a-bord, a + title which had been bestowed upon her by a sailor brother. + </p> + <p> + Crimson with anger to the very roots of her coarse, sandy hair—amazed + to see her husband deport himself in this style, and almost suffocated by + the necessity of restraining her wrath, Madame de Fondege was heroic + enough to smile, though her eyes flashed ominously. But the General was + not at all dismayed. On the contrary, he cared so little for his wife’s + displeasure that, when the dessert was served, he turned to the servant, + and, with a wink that Mademoiselle Marguerite noticed, “Evariste,” he + ordered, “go to the wine-cellar, and bring me a bottle of old Bordeaux.” + </p> + <p> + The valet, who had just received a week’s notice, was only too glad of an + opportunity for revenge. So with a malicious smile, and in a drawling + tone, he replied: “Then monsieur must give me the money. Monsieur knows + very well that neither the grocer nor the wine-merchant will trust him any + longer.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Fondege rose from the table, looking very pale; but before he had + time to utter a word, his wife came to the rescue. “You know, my dear, + that I don’t trust the key of my cellar to this lad. Evariste, call + Justine.” + </p> + <p> + The pert-looking chambermaid appeared, and her mistress told her where she + would find the key of the famous cellar. About a quarter of an hour + afterward, one of those bottles which grocers and wine-merchants prepare + for the benefit of credulous customers was brought in—a bottle duly + covered with dust and mould to give it a venerable appearance, and + festooned with cobwebs, such as the urchins of Paris collect and sell at + from fifteen sous to two francs a pound, according to quality. But the + Bordeaux did not restore the General’s equanimity. He was silent and + subdued; and his relief was evident when, after the coffee had been + served, his wife exclaimed: “We won’t keep you from your club, my dear. I + want a chat with our dear child.” + </p> + <p> + Since she dismissed the General so unceremoniously, Madame de Fondege + evidently wished for a tete-a-tete with Mademoiselle Marguerite. At least + Madame Leon thought so, or feigned to think so, and addressing the young + girl, she said: “I shall be obliged to leave you for a couple of hours, my + dear young lady. My relatives would never forgive me if I did not inform + them of my change of residence.” + </p> + <p> + This was the first time since she had been engaged by the Count de + Chalusse, that the estimable “companion” had ever made any direct allusion + to her relatives, and what is more, to relatives residing in Paris. She + had previously only spoken of them in general terms, giving people to + understand that her relatives had not been unfortunate like herself—that + they still retained their exalted rank, though she had fallen, and that + she found it difficult to decline the favors they longed to heap upon her. + </p> + <p> + However, Mademoiselle Marguerite evinced no surprise. “Go at once and + inform your relatives, my dear Leon,” she said, without a shade of sarcasm + in her manner. “I hope they won’t be offended by your devotion to me.” But + in her secret heart, she thought: “This hypocrite is going to report to + the Marquis de Valorsay, and these relatives of hers will furnish her with + excuses for future visits to him.” + </p> + <p> + The General went off, the servants began to clear the table, and + Mademoiselle Marguerite followed her hostess to the drawing-room. It was a + lofty and spacious apartment, lighted by three windows, and even more + sumptuous in its appointments than the dining-room. Furniture, carpets, + and hangings, were all in rather poor taste, perhaps, but costly, very + costly. As the evening was a cold one, Madame de Fondege ordered the fire + to be lighted. She seated herself on a sofa near the mantelpiece, and when + Mademoiselle Marguerite had taken a chair opposite her, she began, “Now, + my dear child, let us have a quiet talk.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite expected some important communication, so that she + was not a little surprised when Madame de Fondege resumed: “Have you + thought about your mourning?” + </p> + <p> + “About my mourning, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I mean, have you decided what dresses you will purchase? It is an + important matter, my dear—more important than you suppose. They are + making costumes entirely of crepe now, puffed and plaited, and extremely + stylish. I saw one that would suit you well. You may think that a costume + for deep mourning made with puffs would be a trifle LOUD, but that depends + upon tastes. The Duchess de Veljo wore one only eleven days after her + husband’s death; and she allowed some of her hair, which is superb, to + fall over her shoulders, a la pleureuse, and the effect was extremely + touching.” Was Madame de Fondege speaking sincerely? There could be no + doubt of it. Her features, which had been distorted with anger when the + General took it into his head to order the bottle of Bordeaux, had + regained their usual placidity of expression, and had even brightened a + little. “I am entirely at your service, my dear, if you wish any shopping + done,” she continued. “And if you are not quite pleased with your + dressmaker, I will take you to mine, who works like an angel. But how + absurd I am. You will of course employ Van Klopen. I go to him + occasionally myself, but only on great occasions. Between you and me, I + think him a trifle too high in his charges.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite could scarcely repress a smile. “I must confess, + madame, that from my infancy I have been in the habit of making almost all + my dresses myself.” + </p> + <p> + The General’s wife raised her eyes to Heaven in real or feigned + astonishment. “Yourself!” she repeated four or five times, as if to make + sure that she had heard aright. “Yourself! That is incomprehensible! You, + the daughter of a man who possessed an income of five or six hundred + thousand francs a year! Still I know that poor M. de Chalusse, though + unquestionably a very worthy and excellent man, was peculiar in some of + his ideas.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, madame. What I did, I did for my own pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + But this assertion exceeded Madame de Fondege’s powers of comprehension. + “Impossible!” she murmured, “impossible! But, my poor child, what did you + do for fashions—for patterns?” + </p> + <p> + The immense importance she attached to the matter was so manifest that + Marguerite could not refrain from smiling. “I was probably not a very + close follower of the fashions,” she replied. “The dress that I am wearing + now——.” + </p> + <p> + “Is very pretty, my child, and it becomes you extremely; that’s the truth. + Only, to be frank, I must confess that this style is no longer worn—no—not + at all. You must have your new dresses made in quite a different way.” + </p> + <p> + “But I already have more dresses than I need, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “What! black dresses?” + </p> + <p> + “I seldom wear anything but black.” + </p> + <p> + Evidently her hostess had never heard anything like this before. “Oh! all + right,” said she, “these dresses will doubtless do very well for your + first months of mourning—but afterward? Do you suppose, my poor + dear, that I’m going to allow you to shut yourself up as you did at the + Hotel de Chalusse? Good heavens! how dull it must have been for you, alone + in that big house, without society or friends.” + </p> + <p> + A tear fell from Marguerite’s long lashes. “I was very happy there, + madame,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “You think so; but you will change your mind. When one has never tasted + real pleasure, one cannot realize how gloomy one’s life really is. No + doubt, you were very unhappy alone with M. de Chalusse.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! madame——” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! tut! my dear, I know what I am talking about. Wait until you have + been introduced into society before you boast of the charms of solitude. + Poor dear! I doubt if you have ever attended a ball in your whole life. + No! I was sure of it, and you are twenty! Fortunately, I am here. I will + take your mother’s place, and we will make up for lost time! Beautiful as + you are, my child—for you are divinely beautiful—you will + reign as a queen wherever you appear. Doesn’t that thought make that cold + little heart of yours throb more quickly? Ah! fetes and music, wonderful + toilettes and the flashing of diamonds, the admiration of gentlemen, the + envy of rivals, the consciousness of one’s own beauty, are these delights + not enough to fill any woman’s life? It is intoxication, perhaps, but an + intoxication which is happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Was she sincere, or did she hope to dazzle this lonely girl, and then rule + her through the tastes she might succeed in giving her? As is not + unfrequently the case with callous natures, Madame de Fondege was a + compound of frankness and cunning. What she was saying now she really + meant; and as it was to her interest to say it, she urged her opinions + boldly and even eloquently. Twenty-four hours earlier, proud and truthful + Marguerite would have silenced her at once. She would have told her that + such pleasures could never have any charm for her, and that she felt only + scorn and disgust for such worthless aims and sordid desires. But having + resolved to appear a dupe, she concealed her real feelings under an air of + surprise, and was astonished and even ashamed to find that she could + dissemble so well. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” continued Madame de Fondege, “a marriageable young girl should + never shut herself up like a nun. She will never find a husband if she + remains at home—and she must marry. Indeed, marriage is a sensible + woman’s only object in life, since it is her emancipation.” + </p> + <p> + Was Madame de Fondege going to plead her son’s cause? Mademoiselle + Marguerite almost believed it—but the lady was too shrewd for that. + She took good care not to mention as much as Lieutenant Gustave’s name. + </p> + <p> + “The season will certainly be unusually brilliant,” she said, “and it will + begin very early. On the fifth of November, the Countess de Commarin will + give a superb fete; all Paris will be there. On the seventh, there will be + a ball at the house of the Viscountess de Bois d’Ardon. On the eleventh, + there will be a concert, followed by a ball, at the superb mansion of the + Baroness Trigault—you know—the wife of that strange man who + spends all his time in playing cards.” + </p> + <p> + “This is the first time I ever heard the name mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + “Really! and you have been living in Paris for years. It seems + incomprehensible. You must know then, my dear little ignoramus, that the + Baroness Trigault is one of the most distinguished ladies in Paris, and + certainly the best dressed. I am sure her bill at Van Klopen’s is not less + than a hundred thousand francs a year—and that is saying enough, is + it not?” And with genuine pride, she added: “The baroness is my friend. I + will introduce you to her.” + </p> + <p> + Having once started on this theme, Madame de Fondege was not easily + silenced. It was evidently her ambition to be considered a woman of the + world, and to be acquainted with all the leaders of fashionable society; + and, in fact, if one listened to her conversation for an hour one could + learn all the gossip of the day. Though she was unable to interest herself + in this tittle-tattle, Marguerite was pretending to listen to it with + profound attention when the drawing-room door suddenly opened and Evariste + appeared with an impudent smile on his face. “Madame Landoire, the + milliner, is here, and desires to speak with Madame la Comtesse,” he said. + </p> + <p> + On hearing this name, Madame de Fondege started as if she had been stung + by a viper. “Let her wait,” she said quickly. “I will see her in a + moment.” + </p> + <p> + The order was useless, for the visitor was already on the threshold. She + was a tall, dark-haired, ill-mannered woman. “Ah! I’ve found you at last,” + she said, rudely, “and I’m not sorry. This is the fourth time I’ve come + here with my bill.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Fondege pointed to Mademoiselle Marguerite, and exclaimed: + “Wait, at least, until I am alone before you speak to me on business.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Landoire shrugged her shoulders. “As if you were ever alone,” she + growled. “I wish to put an end to this.” + </p> + <p> + “Step into my room then, and we will put an end to it, and at once.” + </p> + <p> + This opportunity to escape from Madame de Fondege must not be allowed to + pass; so Marguerite asked permission to withdraw, declaring, what was + really the truth, that she felt completely tired out. After receiving a + maternal kiss from her hostess, accompanied by a “sleep well, my dear + child,” she retired to her own room. Thanks to Madame Leon’s absence, she + found herself alone, and, drawing a blotting-pad from one of her trunks, + she hastily wrote a note to M. Isidore Fortunat, telling him that she + would call upon him on the following Tuesday. “I must be very awkward,” + she thought, “if to-morrow, on going to mass, I can’t find an opportunity + to throw this note into a letter-box without being observed.” + </p> + <p> + It was fortunate that she had lost no time, for her writing-case was + scarcely in its place again before Madame Leon entered, evidently out of + sorts. “Well,” asked Marguerite, “did you see your friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t speak of it, my dear young lady; they were all of them away from + home—they had gone to the play.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah?” + </p> + <p> + “So I shall go again early to-morrow morning; you must realize how + important it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I understand.” + </p> + <p> + But Madame Leon, who was usually so loquacious, did not seem to be in a + talkative mood that evening, and, after kissing her dear young lady, she + went into her own room. + </p> + <p> + “She did not succeed in finding the Marquis de Valorsay,” thought + Marguerite, “and being in doubt as to the part she is to play, she feels + furious.” + </p> + <p> + The young girl tried to sum up the impressions of the evening, and to + decide upon a plan of conduct, but she felt sad and very weary. She said + to herself that rest would be more beneficial than anything else, and that + her mind would be clearer on the morrow; so after a fervent prayer in + which Pascal Ferailleur’s name was mentioned several times, she prepared + for bed. But before she fell asleep she was able to collect another bit of + evidence. The sheets on her bed were new. + </p> + <p> + If Marguerite had been born in the Hotel de Chalusse, if she had known a + father’s and a mother’s tender care from her infancy, if she had always + been protected by a large fortune from the stern realities of life, there + would have been no hope for her now that she was left poor and alone—for + how can a girl avoid dangers she is ignorant of? But from her earliest + childhood Marguerite had studied the difficult science of real life under + the best of teachers—misfortune. Cast upon her own resources at the + age of thirteen, she had learned to look upon everybody and everything + with distrust; and by relying only on herself, she had become strangely + cautious and clear-sighted. She knew how to watch and how to listen, how + to deliberate and how to act. Two men, the Marquis de Valorsay and M. de + Fondege’s son, coveted her hand; and one of the two, the marquis, so she + believed, was capable of any crime. Still she felt no fears. She had been + in danger once before when she was little more than a child, when the + brother of her employer insulted her with his attentions, but she had + escaped unharmed. + </p> + <p> + Deceit was certainly most repugnant to her truth-loving nature; but it was + the only weapon of defence she possessed. And so on the following day she + carefully studied the abode of her entertainers. And certainly the study + was instructive. The General’s household was truly Parisian in character; + or, at least, it was what a Parisian household inevitably becomes when its + inmates fall a prey to the constantly increasing passion for luxury and + display, to the furore for aping the habits and expenditure of + millionaires, and to the noble and elevated desire of humiliating and + outshining their neighbors. Ease, health, and comfort had been + unscrupulously sacrificed to show. The dining-room was magnificent, the + drawing-room superb; but these were the only comfortably furnished + apartments in the establishment. The other rooms were bare and desolate. + It is true that Madame de Fondege had a handsome wardrobe with glass doors + in her own room, but this was an article which the friend of the + fashionable Baroness Trigault could not possibly dispense with. On the + other hand, her bed had no curtains. + </p> + <p> + The aspect of the place fittingly explained the habits and manners of the + inmates. What sinister fears must have haunted them! for how could this + extreme destitution in one part of the establishment be reconciled with + the luxury noticeable in the other, except by the fact that a desperate + struggle to keep up appearances was constantly going on? And this constant + anxiety made out-door noise, excitement, and gayety a necessity of their + existence, and caused them to welcome anything that took them from the + home where they had barely sufficient to deceive society, and not enough + to impose upon their creditors. “And they keep three servants,” thought + Mademoiselle Marguerite—“three enemies who spend their time in + ridiculing them, and torturing their vanity.” + </p> + <p> + Thus, on the very first day after her arrival, she realized the real + situation of the General and his wife. They were certainly on the verge of + ruin when Mademoiselle Marguerite accepted their hospitality. Everything + went to prove this: the coachman’s insolent demand, the servants’ + impudence, the grocer’s refusal to furnish a single bottle of wine on + credit, the milliner’s persistence, and, lastly, the new sheets on the + visitors’ beds. “Yes,” thought Mademoiselle Marguerite to herself, “the + Fondeges were ruined when I came here. They would never have sunk so low + if they had not been utterly destitute of resources. So, if they rise + again, if money and credit come back again, then the old magistrate is + right—they have obtained possession of the Chalusse millions!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <p> + On this side, at least, Mademoiselle Marguerite had no very wide field of + investigation to explore. Her common sense told her that her task would + merely consist in carefully watching the behavior of the General and his + wife, in noting their expenditure, and so on. It was a matter of close + attention, and of infinitesimal trifles. Nor was she much encouraged by + her first success. It was, perhaps, important; and yet it might be + nothing. For she felt that the real difficulties would not begin until she + became morally certain that the General had stolen the millions that were + missing from the count’s escritoire. Even then it would remain for her to + discover how he had obtained possession of this money. And when she had + succeeded in doing this, would her task be ended? Certainly not. She must + obtain sufficient evidence to give her the right of accusing the General + openly, and in the face of every one. She must have material and + indisputable proofs before she could say: “A robbery has been committed. I + was accused of it. I was innocent. Here is the culprit!” + </p> + <p> + What a long journey must be made before this goal was reached! No matter! + Now that she had a positive and fixed point of departure, she felt that + she possessed enough energy to sustain her in her endeavors for years, if + need be. What troubled her most was that she could not logically explain + the conduct of her enemies from the time M. de Fondege had asked her hand + for his son up to the present moment. And first, why had they been so + audacious or so imprudent as to bring her to their own home if they had + really stolen one of those immense amounts that are sure to betray their + possessors? “They are mad,” she thought, “or else they must deem me blind, + deaf, and more stupid than mortal ever was!” Secondly, why should they be + so anxious to marry her to their son, Lieutenant Gustave? This also was a + puzzling question. However, she was fully decided on one point: the + suspicions of the Fondege family must not be aroused. If they were on + their guard, it would be the easiest thing in the world for them to pay + their debts quietly, and increase their expenditure so imperceptibly that + she would not be able to prove a sudden acquisition of wealth. + </p> + <p> + But the events of the next few days dispelled these apprehensions. That + very afternoon, although it was Sunday, it became evident that a shower of + gold had fallen on the General’s abode. The door-bell rang incessantly for + several hours, and an interminable procession of tradesmen entered. It + looked very much as if M. de Fondege had called a meeting of his + creditors. They came in haughty and arrogant, with their hats upon their + heads, and surly of speech, like people who have made up their minds to + accept their loss, but who intend to pay themselves in rudeness. They were + ushered into the drawing-room where the General was holding his levee; + they remained there from five to ten minutes, and then, bowing low with + hat in hand, they retired with radiant countenances, and an obsequious + smile on their lips. So they had been paid. And as if to prove to + Mademoiselle Marguerite that her suspicions were correct, she chanced to + be present when the livery stable-keeper presented his bill. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Fondege received him very haughtily. “Ah! here you are!” she + exclaimed, rudely, as soon as he appeared. “So you are the man who teaches + his drivers to insult his customers? That is an excellent way to gain + patronage. What! I hire a one-horse carriage from you by the month, and + because I happen to wish for a two-horse vehicle for a single day, you + make me pay the difference. You should demand payment in advance if you + are so suspicious.” + </p> + <p> + The stable-keeper, who had a bill for nearly four thousand francs in his + pocket, stood listening with the air of a man who is meditating some + crushing reply; but she did not give him time to deliver it. “When I have + cause to complain of the people I employ, I dismiss them and replace them + by others. Insolence is one of those things that I never forgive. Give me + your bill.” + </p> + <p> + The man, in whose face doubt, fear, and hope had succeeded each other in + swift succession, thereupon drew an interminable bill from his pocket. And + when he saw the bank-notes, when he saw the bill paid without dispute or + even examination, he was seized with a wondering respect, and his voice + became sweeter than honey. They say the payment of a bad debt delights a + merchant a thousand times more than the settlement of fifty good ones. The + truth of this assertion became apparent in the present case. Mademoiselle + Marguerite thought the man was going to beg “Madame la Comtesse to do him + the favor to withhold a portion of the small amount.” For the Parisian + tradesman is so constituted that very frequently it is not necessary to + pay him money, but only to show it. + </p> + <p> + However, this creditor’s abnegation did not extend so far; still he did + entreat Madame la Comtesse not to leave him on account of a blunder—for + it was a blunder—he swore it on his children’s heads. His coachman + was only a fool and a drunkard, who had misunderstood him entirely, and + whom he should ignominiously dismiss on returning to his establishment. + But “Madame la Comtesse” was inflexible. She sent the man about his + business, saying, “I never place myself in a position to be treated with + disrespect a second time.” + </p> + <p> + This probably accounted for the fact that Evariste, the footman, who had + been so wanting in respect the previous evening, had been sent away that + very morning. Mademoiselle Marguerite did not see him again. Dinner was + served by a new servant, who had been sent by an Employment Office, and + engaged without a question, no doubt because Evariste’s livery fitted him + like a glove. Had the cook also been replaced? Mademoiselle Marguerite + thought so, though she had no means of convincing herself on this point. + It was certain, however, that the Sunday dinner was utterly unlike that of + the evening before. Quality had replaced quantity, and care, profusion. It + was not necessary to send to the cellar for a bottle of Chateau-Laroze; it + made its appearance at the proper moment, warmed to the precise degree of + temperature, and seemed quite to the taste of excellent Madame Leon. + </p> + <p> + In twenty-four hours the Fondege family had been raised to such affluence + that they must have asked themselves if it were possible they had ever + known the agonies of that life of false appearances and sham luxury which + is a thousand times worse than an existence of abject poverty. “Is it + possible that I am deceived?” Marguerite said to herself, on retiring to + her room that evening. For it surprised her that a keen-sighted person + like Madame Leon should not have remarked this revolution; but the worthy + companion merely declared the General and his wife to be charming people, + and did not cease to congratulate her dear young lady upon having accepted + their hospitality. “I feel quite at home here,” said she; “and though my + room is a trifle small, I shall have nothing to wish for when it has been + refurnished.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite spent a restless and uncomfortable night. In spite + of her reason, in spite of the convincing proofs she had seen, the most + disturbing doubts returned. Might she not have judged the situation with a + prejudiced mind? Had the Fondeges really been as reduced in circumstances + as she supposed? Like every one who has been unfortunate, she feared + illusions, and was extremely distrustful of everything that seemed to + favor her hopes and wishes. The only thing that really encouraged her was + the thought that she could consult the old magistrate, and that M. de + Chalusse’s former agent might succeed in finding Pascal Ferailleur. M. + Fortunat must have received her letter by this time: he would undoubtedly + expect her on Tuesday, and it only remained for her to invent some excuse + which would give her a couple of hours’ liberty without awakening + suspicion. + </p> + <p> + She rose early the next morning, and had almost completed her toilette, + when she heard some one in the passage outside rapping at the door of + Madame Leon’s room. “Who’s there?” inquired that worthy lady. + </p> + <p> + It was Justine, Madame de Fondege’s maid, who answered in a pert voice, + “Here is a letter, madame, which has just been sent up by the concierge. + It is addressed to Madame Leon. That is your name, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite staggered as if she had received a heavy blow. “My God! a + letter from the Marquis de Valorsay!” she thought. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that the estimable lady was expecting this missive by the + eagerness with which she sprang out of bed and opened the door. And + Marguerite heard her say to the servant in her sweetest voice: “A thousand + thanks, my child! Ah! this is a great relief, I have heard from my + brother-in-law at last. I recognize his hand-writing.” And then the door + closed again. + </p> + <p> + Standing silent and motionless in the middle of her room, Marguerite + listened with that feverish anxiety that excites the perceptive faculties + to the utmost degree. An inward voice, stronger than reason, told her that + this letter threatened her happiness, her future, perhaps her life! But + how could she convince herself of the truth of this presentiment? If she + had followed her first impulse, she would have rushed into Madame Leon’s + room and have snatched the letter from her hands. But if she did this, she + would betray herself, and prove that she was not the dupe they supposed + her to be, and this supposition on the part of her enemies constituted her + only chance of salvation. + </p> + <p> + If she could only watch Madame Leon as she read the letter, and gain some + information from the expression of her face; but this seemed impossible, + for the keyhole was blocked up by the key, which had been left in the lock + on the other side. Suddenly a crack in the partition attracted her + attention, and finding that it extended through the wall, she realized she + might watch what was passing in the adjoining room. So she approached the + spot on tiptoe, and, with bated breath, stooped and looked in. + </p> + <p> + In her impatience to learn the contents of her letter, Madame Leon had not + gone back to bed. She had broken the seal, and was reading the missive, + standing barefooted in her night-dress, directly opposite the little + crevice. She read line after line, and word after word, and her knitted + brows and compressed lips suggested deep concentration of thought mingled + with discontent. At last she shrugged her shoulders, muttered a few + inaudible words, and laid the open letter upon the rickety chest of + drawers, which, with two chairs and a bed, constituted the entire + furniture of her apartment. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” exclaimed Marguerite, with bated breath, “if she would only + forget it!” + </p> + <p> + But she did not forget it. She began to dress, and when she had finished + she read the letter again, and then placed it carefully in one of the + drawers, which she locked, putting the key in her pocket. + </p> + <p> + “I shall never know, then,” thought Marguerite; “no, I shall never know. + But I must know—and I will!” she added vehemently. + </p> + <p> + From that moment a firm determination to obtain that letter took + possession of her mind; and so deeply was she occupied in seeking for some + means to surmount the difficulties which stood in her way that she did not + say a dozen words during breakfast. “I must be a fool if I can’t find some + way of gaining possession of that letter,” she said to herself again and + again. “I’m sure I could find in it the explanation of the abominable + intrigue which Pascal and I are the victims of.” + </p> + <p> + Happily, her preoccupation was not remarked. Each person present was too + deeply engrossed in his or her own concerns to notice the behavior of the + others. Madame Leon’s mind was occupied with the news she had just + received; and, besides, her attention was considerably attracted by some + partridges garnished with truffles, and a bottle of Chateau-Laroze. For + she was rather fond of good living, the dear lady, as she confessed + herself, adding that no one is perfect. The General talked of nothing but + a certain pair of horses which he was to look at that afternoon, and which + he thought of buying—being quite disgusted with job-masters, so he + declared. Besides, he expected to get the animals at a bargain, as they + were the property of a young gentleman who had been led to commit certain + misdemeanors by his love of gambling and his passion for a notorious woman + who was addicted with an insatiable desire for jewelry. + </p> + <p> + As for Madame de Fondege, her head seemed to have been completely turned + by the prospect of the approaching fete at the Countess de Commarin’s. She + had only a fortnight left to make her preparations. All the evening + before, through part of the night, and ever since she had been awake that + morning, she had been racking her brain to arrive at an effective + combination of colors and materials. And at the cost of a terrible + headache, she had at last conceived one of those toilettes which are sure + to make a sensation, and which the newspaper reporters will mention as + noticeable for its “chic.” “Picture to yourself,” she said, all ablaze + with enthusiasm, “picture to yourself a robe of tea-flower silk, trimmed + with bands of heavy holland-tinted satin, thickly embroidered with + flowers. A wide flounce of Valenciennes at the bottom of the skirt. Over + this, I shall wear a tunic of pearl-gray crepe, edged with a fringe of the + various shades in the dress, and forming a panier behind.” + </p> + <p> + But how much trouble, time and labor must be expended before such an + elaborate chef-d’oeuvre could be completed! How many conferences with the + dressmaker, with the florist, and the embroiderer! How many doubts, how + many inevitable mistakes! Ah! there was not a moment to lose! Madame de + Fondege, who was dressed to go out, and who had already sent for a + carriage, insisted that Mademoiselle Marguerite should accompany her. And + certainly, the General’s wife deemed the proposal a seductive one. It is a + very fashionable amusement to run from one shop to another, even when one + cannot, or will not, buy. It is a custom, which some noble ladies have + imported from America, to the despair of the poor shopkeepers. And thus + every fine afternoon, the swell shops are filled to overflowing with + richly-attired dames and damsels, who ask to see all the new goods. It is + far more amusing than remaining at home. And when they return to dinner in + the evening, after inspecting hundreds of yards of silk and satin, they + are very well pleased with themselves, for they have not lost the day. Nor + do the shrewdest always return from these expeditions empty-handed. A + dozen gloves or a piece of lace can be hidden so easily in the folds of a + mantle! + </p> + <p> + And yet, to Madame de Fondege’s great surprise, Marguerite declined the + invitation. “I have so many things to put in order,” she added, feeling + that an excuse was indispensable. + </p> + <p> + But Madame Leon, who had not the same reasons as her dear child for + wishing to remain at home, kindly offered her services. She was acquainted + with several of the best shops, she declared, particularly with the + establishment of a dealer in laces, in the Rue de Mulhouse, and thanks to + an introduction from her, Madame de Fondege could not fail to conclude a + very advantageous bargain there. “Very well,” replied Madame de Fondege, + “I will take you with me, then; but make haste and dress while I put on my + bonnet.” + </p> + <p> + They left the breakfast-room at the same time, closely followed by + Mademoiselle Marguerite, who was disturbed by a hope which she scarcely + dared confess to herself. With her forehead resting against the wall, and + her eye peering through the tiny crack, she watched her governess change + her dress, throw a shawl over her shoulders, put on her best bonnet, and, + after a glance at the looking-glass, rush from the room, exclaiming: “Here + I am, my dear countess. I’m ready.” + </p> + <p> + And a few moments afterward they left the house together. + </p> + <p> + As the outer door closed after them, Marguerite’s brain whirled. If she + were not deceived, Madame Leon had left the key of the drawers in the + pocket of the dress she had just taken off. So it was with a wildly + throbbing heart that she opened the communicating door and entered her + “companion’s” room. She hastily approached the bed on which the dress was + lying, and, with a trembling hand, she began to search for the pocket. + Fortune favored her! The key was there. The letter was within her reach. + But she was about to do a deed against which her whole nature revolted. To + steal a key, to force an article of furniture open, and violate the secret + of a private correspondence, these were actions so repugnant to her sense + of honor, and her pride, that for some time she stood irresolute. At last + the instinct of self-preservation overpowered her scruples. Was not her + honor, and Pascal’s honor also, at stake—as well as their mutual + love and happiness? “It would be folly to hesitate.” she murmured. And + with a firm hand she placed the key in the lock. + </p> + <p> + The latter was out of order and the drawer was only opened with + difficulty. But there, on some clothes which Madame Leon had not yet found + time to arrange, Marguerite saw the letter. She eagerly snatched it up, + unfolded it, and read: “Dear Madame Leon—” “Dear me,” she muttered, + “here is the name in full. This is an indiscretion which will render + denial difficult.” And she resumed her perusal: “Your letter, which I have + just received, confirms what my servants had already told me: that twice + during my absence—on Saturday evening and Sunday morning—you + called at my house to see me.” So Mademoiselle Marguerite’s penetration + had served her well. All this talk about anxious relatives had only been + an excuse invented by Madame Leon to enable her to absent herself whenever + occasion required. “I regret,” continued the letter, “that you did not + find me at home, for I have instructions of the greatest importance to + give you. We are approaching the decisive moment. I have formed a plan + which will completely, and forever, efface all remembrance of that cursed + P. F., in case any one condescended to think of him after the disgrace we + fastened upon him the other evening at the house of Madame d’Argeles.” P. + F.—these initials of course meant Pascal Ferailleur. Then he was + innocent, and she held an undeniable, irrefutable proof of his innocence + in her hands. How coolly and impudently Valorsay confessed his atrocious + crime! “A bold stroke is in contemplation which, if no unfortunate and + well-nigh impossible accident occur, will throw the girl into my arms.” + Marguerite shuddered. “The girl” referred to her, of course. “Thanks to + the assistance of one of my friends,” added the letter “I can place this + proud damsel in a perilous, terribly perilous position, from which she + cannot possibly extricate herself unaided. But, just as she gives herself + up for lost, I shall interpose. I shall save her; and it will be strange + if gratitude does not work the necessary miracle in my favor. The plan is + certain to succeed. Still, it will be all the better if the physician who + attended M. de C—— in his last moments, and whom you spoke to + me about (Dr. Jodon, if I remember rightly), will consent to lend us a + helping hand. What kind of a man is he? If he is accessible to the + seductive influence of a few thousand francs, I shall consider the + business as good as concluded. Your conduct up to the present time has + been a chef-d’oeuvre, for which you shall be amply compensated. You have + cause to know that I am not ungrateful. Let the F’s continue their + intrigues, and even pretend to favor them. I am not afraid of these + people. I understand their game perfectly, and know why they wish my + little one to marry their son. But when they become troublesome, I shall + crush them like glass. In spite of these explanations, which I have just + given you for your guidance, it is very necessary that I should see you. I + shall look for you on Tuesday afternoon, between three and four o’clock. + Above all, don’t fail to bring me the desired information respecting Dr. + Jodon. I am, my dear madame, devotedly yours—V.” Below ran a + postscript which read as follows: “When you come on Tuesday bring this + letter with you. We will burn it together. Don’t imagine that I distrust + you—but there is nothing so dangerous as letters.” + </p> + <p> + For some time Marguerite stood, stunned and appalled by the Marquis de + Valorsay’s audacity, and by the language of this letter, which was at once + so obscure and so clear, every line of it threatening her future. The + reality surpassed her worst apprehensions, but realizing the gravity of + the situation, she shook off the torpor stealing over her. She felt that + every second was precious, and that she must act, and act at once. But + what should she do? Simply return the letter to its place, and continue to + act the role of a dupe, as if nothing had happened? No; that must not be. + It would be madness not to seize this flagrant proof of the Marquis de + Valorsay’s infamy. But on the other hand, if she kept the letter, Madame + Leon would immediately discover its loss, and an explanation would be + unavoidable. M. de Valorsay would be worsted, but not annihilated, and the + plans which made the physician’s intervention a necessity would never be + revealed. She thought of hastening to her friend the old magistrate; but + he lived a long way off, and time was pressing. Besides she might not find + him at home. Then she thought of going to a notary, to a judge. She would + show them the letter, and they could take a copy of it. But no—this + would do no good—the marquis could still deny it. She was becoming + desperate, and was accusing herself of stupidity, when a sudden + inspiration illumined her mind, turning night into day, as it were. “Oh, + Pascal, we are saved!” she exclaimed. And without pausing to deliberate + any longer, she threw a mantle over her shoulders, hastily tied on her + bonnet, and hurried from the house, without saying a word to any one. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately she was not acquainted with this part of Paris, and on + reaching the Rue Pigalle she was at a loss for her way. Unwilling to waste + any more time, she hastily entered a grocer’s shop at the corner of the + Rue Pigalle and the Rue Notre Dame de Lorette, and anxiously inquired: “Do + you know any photographer in this neighborhood, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + Her agitation made this question seem so singular that the grocer looked + at her closely for a moment, as if to make sure that she was not jesting. + “You have only to go down the Rue Notre Dame de Lorette,” he replied, “and + on the left-hand side, at the foot of the hill, you will find the + photographer Carjat.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + The grocer stepped to the door to watch her. “That girl’s certainly + light-headed,” he thought. + </p> + <p> + Her demeanor was really so extraordinary that it attracted the attention + of the passers-by. She saw this, and slackening her pace, tried to become + more composed. At the spot the grocer had indicated, she perceived several + show frames filled with photographs hanging on either side of a broad, + open gateway, above which ran the name, “E. Carjat.” She went in, and + seeing a man standing at the door of an elegant pavilion on the right-hand + side of a large courtyard, she approached him, and asked for his employer. + </p> + <p> + “He is here,” replied the man. “Does madame come for a photograph?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then will madame be so kind as to pass in. She will not be obliged to + wait long. There are only four or five persons before her.” + </p> + <p> + Four or five persons! How long would she be obliged to wait?—half an + hour—two hours? She had not the slightest idea. But she DID know + that she had not a second to lose, that Madame Leon might return at any + moment, and find the letter missing; and, to crown all, she remembered now + that she had not even locked the drawer again. “I cannot wait,” she said, + imperiously. “I must speak to M. Carjat at once.” + </p> + <p> + “But——” + </p> + <p> + “At once, I tell you. Go and tell him that he must come.” + </p> + <p> + Her tone was so commanding, and there was so much authority in her glance, + that the servant hesitated no longer. He ushered her into a little + sitting-room, and said, “If madame will take a seat, I will call + monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + She sank on to a chair, for her limbs were failing her. She was beginning + to realize the strangeness of the step she had taken—to fear the + result it might lead to—and to be astonished at her own boldness. + But she had no time to prepare what she wished to say, for a man of + five-and-thirty, wearing a mustache and imperial, and clad in a velvet + coat, entered the room, and bowing with an air of surprise, exclaimed: + “You desire to speak with me, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a great favor to ask of you, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Of me?” + </p> + <p> + She drew M. de Valorsay’s letter from her pocket, and, showing it to the + photographer, she said, “I have come to you, monsieur, to ask you to + photograph this letter—but at once—before me—and quickly—very + quickly. The honor of two persons is imperilled by each moment I lose + here.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite’s embarrassment was extreme. Her cheeks were + crimson, and she trembled like a leaf. Still her attitude was proud, + generous enthusiasm glowed in her dark eyes, and her tone of voice + revealed the serenity of a lofty soul ready to dare anything for a just + and noble cause. This striking contrast—this struggle between + girlish timidity and a lover’s virgil energy, endowed her with a strange + and powerful charm, which the photographer made no attempt to resist. + Unusual as was the request, he did not hesitate. “I am ready to do what + you desire, madame,” he replied, bowing again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! monsieur, how can I ever thank you?” + </p> + <p> + He did not stop to listen to her thanks. Not wishing to return to the + reception-room, where five or six clients were impatiently awaiting their + turn, he called one of his subordinates, and ordered him to bring the + necessary apparatus at once. While he was speaking, Mademoiselle + Marguerite paused; but, as soon as his instructions were concluded, she + remarked: “Perhaps you are too hasty, sir. You have not allowed me to + explain; and perhaps what I desire is impossible. I came on the impulse of + the moment, without any knowledge on the subject. Before you set to work, + I must know if what you can do will answer my purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Will the copy you obtain be precisely like the original in every + particular?” + </p> + <p> + “In every particular.” + </p> + <p> + “The writing will be the same—exactly the same?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely the same.” + </p> + <p> + “So like, that if one of your photographs should be presented to the + person who wrote this letter——” + </p> + <p> + “He could no more deny his handwriting than he could if some one handed + him the letter itself.” + </p> + <p> + “And the operation will leave no trace on the original?” + </p> + <p> + “None.” + </p> + <p> + A smile of triumph played upon Mademoiselle Marguerite’s lips. It was as + she had thought; the defensive plan which she had suddenly conceived was a + good one. “One more question, sir,” she resumed. “I am only a poor, + ignorant girl: excuse me, and give me the benefit of your knowledge. This + letter will be returned to its author to-morrow, and he will burn it. But + afterward, in case of any difficulty—in case of a law-suit—or + in case it should be necessary for me to prove certain things which one + might establish by means of this letter, would one of your photographs be + admitted as evidence?” + </p> + <p> + The photographer did not answer for a moment. Now he understood + Mademoiselle Marguerite’s motive, and the importance she attached to a + facsimile. But this imparted an unexpected gravity to the service he was + called upon to perform. He therefore wished some time for reflection, and + he scrutinized Mademoiselle Marguerite as if he were trying to read her + very soul. Was it possible that this young girl, with such a pure and + noble brow, and with such frank, honest eyes, could be meditating any + cowardly, dishonorable act? No, he could not believe it. In whom, or in + what, could he trust if such a countenance deceived him? “My facsimile + would certainly be admitted as evidence,” he replied at last; “and this + would not be the first time that the decision of a court has depended on + proofs which have been photographed by me.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, his assistant had returned, bringing the necessary apparatus + with him. When all was ready, the photographer asked her, “Will you give + me the letter, madame?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated for a second—only for a second. The man’s honest, + kindly face told her that he would not betray her, that he would rather + give her assistance. So she handed him the Marquis de Valorsay’s letter, + saying, with melancholy dignity, “It is my happiness and my future that I + place in your hands—and I have no fears.” + </p> + <p> + He read her thoughts, and understood that she either dared not ask for a + pledge of secrecy, or else that she thought it unnecessary. He took pity + on her, and his last doubt fled. “I shall read this letter, madame,” said + he, “but I am the only person who will read it. I give you my word on + that! No one but myself will see the proofs.” + </p> + <p> + Greatly moved, she offered him her hand, and simply said, “Thanks; I am + more than repaid.” + </p> + <p> + To obtain an absolutely perfect facsimile of a letter is a delicate and + sometimes lengthy operation. However, at the end of about twenty minutes, + the photographer possessed two negatives that promised him perfect proofs. + He looked at them with a satisfied air; and then returning the letter to + Mademoiselle Marguerite, he said, “In less than three days the facsimiles + will be ready, madame; and if you will tell me to what address I ought to + send them——” + </p> + <p> + She trembled on hearing these words, and quickly answered, “Don’t send + them, sir—keep them carefully. Great heavens! all would be lost if + it came to the knowledge of any one. I will send for them, or come + myself.” And, feeling the extent of her obligation, she added, “But I will + not go without introducing myself—I am Mademoiselle Marguerite de + Chalusse.” And, thereupon, she went off, leaving the photographer + surprised at the adventure and dazzled by his strange visitor’s beauty. + </p> + <p> + Rather more than an hour had elapsed since Marguerite left M. de Fondege’s + house. “How time flies!” she murmured, quickening her pace as much as she + could without exciting remark—“how time flies!” But, hurried as she + was, she stopped and spent five minutes at a shop in the Rue Notre Dame de + Lorette where she purchased some black ribbon and a few other trifles. How + else could she explain and justify her absence, if the servants, who had + probably discovered she had gone out, chanced to speak of it? + </p> + <p> + But her heart throbbed as if it would burst as she ascended the General’s + staircase, and anxiety checked her breathing as she rang the bell. “What + if Madame de Fondege and Madame Leon had returned, and the abstraction of + the letter been discovered!” Fortunately, Madame de Fondege required more + than an hour to purchase the materials for the elaborate toilette she had + dreamt of. The ladies were still out, and Mademoiselle Marguerite found + everything in the same condition as she had left it. She carefully placed + the letter in the drawer again, locked it, and put the key in the pocket + of Madame Leon’s dress. Then she breathed freely once more; and, for the + first time in six days, she felt something very like joy in her heart. Now + she had no fear of the Marquis de Valorsay. She had him in her power. He + would destroy his letter the next day, and think that he was annihilating + all proofs of his infamy. Not so. At the decisive moment, at the very + moment of his triumph, she would produce the photograph of this letter, + and crush him. And she—only a young girl—had outwitted this + consummate scoundrel! “I have not been unworthy of Pascal,” she said to + herself, with a flash of pride. + </p> + <p> + However, her nature was not one of those weak ones which are become + intoxicated by the first symptom of success, and then relax in their + efforts. When her excitement had abated a little, she was inclined to + disparage rather than to exaggerate the advantage she had gained. What she + desired was a complete, startling, incontestable victory. It was not + enough to prove Valorsay’s GUILT—she was resolved to penetrate his + designs, to discover why he pursued her so desperately. And, though she + felt that she possessed a formidable weapon of defence, she could not + drive away her gloomy forebodings when she thought of the threats + contained in the marquis’s letter. “Thanks to the assistance of one of my + friends,” he wrote, “I can place this proud girl in a perilous, terribly + perilous, position, from which she cannot possibly extricate herself + unaided.” + </p> + <p> + These words persistently lingered in Mademoiselle Marguerite’s mind. What + was the danger hanging over her? whence would it come? and in what form? + What abominable machination might she not expect from the villain who had + deliberately dishonored Pascal? How would he attack her? Would he strive + to ruin her reputation, or did he intend to forcibly abduct her? Would he + attempt to decoy her into a trap where she would be subjected to the + insults of the vilest wretches? A thousand frightful memories of the time + when she was an apprentice drove her nearly frantic. “I will never go out + unarmed,” she thought, “and woe to the man who raises his hand against + me!” + </p> + <p> + The vagueness of the threat increased her fears. No one is courageous + enough to confront an unknown, mysterious, and always imminent danger + without sometimes faltering. Nor was this all. The marquis was not her + only enemy. She had the Fondege family to dread—these dangerous + hypocrites, who had taken her to their home so that they might ruin her + the more surely. M. de Valorsay wrote that he had no fears of the Fondeges—that + he understood their little game. What was their little game? No doubt they + were resolved that she should become their son’s wife, even if they were + obliged to use force to win her consent. At this thought a sudden terror + seized her soul, so full of peace and hope an instant before. When she was + attacked, would she have time to produce and use the facsimile of + Valorsay’s letter? “I must reveal my secret to a friend—to a trusty + friend—who will avenge me!” she muttered. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately she had a friend in whom she could safely confide—the + old magistrate who had given her such proofs of sympathy. She felt that + she needed the advice of a riper experience than her own, and the thought + of consulting him at once occurred to her. She was alone; she had no spy + to fear; and it would be folly not to profit by the few moments of liberty + that remained. So she drew her writing-case from her trunk, and, after + barricading her door to prevent a surprise, she wrote her friend an + account of the events which had taken place since their last interview. + She told him everything with rare precision and accuracy of detail, + sending him a copy of Valorsay’s letter, and informing him that, in case + any misfortune befell her, he could obtain the facsimiles from Carjat. She + finished her letter, but did not seal it. “If anything should happen + before I have an opportunity to post it, I will add a postscript,” she + said to herself. + </p> + <p> + She had made all possible haste, fearing that Madame de Fondege and Madame + Leon might return at any moment. But this was truly a chimerical + apprehension. It was nearly six o’clock when the two shoppers made their + appearance, wearied with the labors of the day, but in fine spirits. + Besides purchasing every requisite for that wonderful costume of hers, the + General’s wife had found some laces of rare beauty, which she had secured + for the mere trifle of four thousand francs. “It was one of those + opportunities one ought always to profit by,” she said, as she displayed + her purchase. “Besides, it is the same with lace as with diamonds, you + should purchase them when you can—then you have them. It isn’t an + outlay—it’s an investment.” Subtle reasoning that has cost many a + husband dear! + </p> + <p> + On her side, Madame Leon proudly showed her dear young lady a very pretty + present which Madame de Fondege had given her. “So money is no longer + lacking in this household,” thought Mademoiselle Marguerite, all the more + confirmed in her suspicions. + </p> + <p> + The General came in a little later, accompanied by a friend, and + Marguerite soon discovered that the worthy man had spent the day as + profitably as his wife. He too was quite tired out; and he had reason to + be fatigued. First, he had purchased the horses belonging to the ruined + spendthrift, and he had paid five thousand francs for them, a mere trifle + for such animals. Less than an hour after the purchase he had refused + almost double that amount from a celebrated connoisseur in horse-flesh, M. + de Breulh-Faverlay. This excellent speculation had put him in such good + humor that he had been unable to resist the temptation of purchasing a + beautiful saddle-horse, which they let him have for a hundred louis. He + had not been foolish, for he was sure that he could sell the animal again + at an advance of a thousand francs whenever he wished to do so. “So,” + remarked his friend, “if you bought such a horse every day, you would make + three hundred and sixty-five thousand francs a year.” + </p> + <p> + Was this only a jest—one of those witticisms which people who boast + of wonderful bargains must expect to parry, or had the remark a more + serious meaning? Marguerite could not determine. One thing is certain, the + General did not lose his temper, but gayly continued his account of the + way in which he had spent his time. Having purchased the horses, his next + task was to find a carriage, and he had heard of a barouche which a + Russian prince had ordered but didn’t take, so that the builder was + willing to sell it at less than cost price; and to recoup this worthy man, + the General had purchased a brougham as well. He had, moreover, hired + stabling in the Rue Pigalle, only a few steps from the house, and he + expected a coachman and a groom the following morning. + </p> + <p> + “And all this will cost us less than the miserable vehicle we have been + hiring by the year,” observed Madame de Fondege, gravely. “Oh, I know what + I say. I’ve counted the cost. What with gratuities and extras, it costs us + now fully a thousand francs a month, and three horses and a coachman won’t + cost you more. And what a difference! I shall no longer be obliged to + blush for the skinny horses the stable-keeper sends me, nor to endure the + insolence of his men. The first outlay frightened me a little; but that is + made now, and I am delighted. We will save it in something else.” + </p> + <p> + “In laces, no doubt,” thought Mademoiselle Marguerite. She was intensely + exasperated, and on regaining her chamber she said to herself, for the + tenth time, “What do they take me for? Do they think me an idiot to flaunt + the millions they have stolen from my father—that they have stolen + from me—before my eyes in this fashion? A common thief would take + care not to excite suspicion by a foolish expenditure of the fruits of his + knavery, but they—they have lost their senses.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Leon was already in bed, and when Mademoiselle Marguerite was + satisfied that she was asleep, she took her letter from her trunk, and + added this post-script: “P. S.—It is impossible to retain the shadow + of a doubt, M. and Madame de Fondege have spent certainly twenty thousand + francs to-day. This audacity must arise from a conviction that no proofs + of the crime they have committed exist. Still they continue to talk to me + about their son, Lieutenant Gustave. He will be presented to me to-morrow. + To-morrow, also, between three and four, I shall be at the house of a man + who can perhaps discover Pascal’s hiding-place for me,—the house of + M. Isidore Fortunat. I hope to make my escape easily enough, for at that + same hour, Madame Leon has an appointment with the Marquis de Valorsay.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. + </h2> + <p> + The old legend of Achilles’s heel will be eternally true. A man may be + humble or powerful, feeble or strong, but there are none of us without + some weak spot in our armor, a spot vulnerable beyond all others, a + certain place where wounds prove most dangerous and painful. M. Isidore + Fortunat’s weak place was his cash-box. To attack him there was to + endanger his life—to wound him at a point where all his sensibility + centred. For it was in this cash-box and not in his breast that his heart + really throbbed. His safe made him happy or dejected. Happy when it was + filled to overflowing by some brilliant operation, and dejected when he + saw it become empty as some imprudent transaction failed. + </p> + <p> + This then explains his frenzy on that ill-fated Sunday, when, after being + brutally dismissed by M. Wilkie, he returned to his rooms in the company + of his clerk, Victor Chupin. This explains, too, the intensity of the + hatred he now felt for the Marquis de Valorsay and the Viscount de + Coralth. The former, the marquis, had defrauded him of forty thousand + francs in glittering gold. The other, the viscount, had suddenly sprung up + out of the ground, and carried off from under his very nose that + magnificent prize, the Chalusse inheritance, which he had considered as + good as won. And he had not only been defrauded and swindled—such + were his own expressions—but he had been tricked, deceived, duped, + and outwitted, and by whom? By people who did not make it their profession + to be shrewd, like he did himself. Just fancy, his business was to outwit + others, and a couple of mere amateurs had outgeneraled him. He had not + only suffered in pocket, he had been humiliated as well, and so he + indulged in threats of such terrible import. + </p> + <p> + However, at the very moment when he was dreaming of wreaking vengeance on + the Marquis de Valorsay and the Viscount de Coralth, his housekeeper, + austere Madame Dodelin, handed him Mademoiselle Marguerite’s letter. He + read it with intense astonishment, rubbing his eyes as if to assure + himself that he were really awake. “Tuesday,” he repeated, “the day after + to-morrow—at your house—between three and four o’clock—I + must speak with you.” + </p> + <p> + His manner was so strange, and his usually impassive face so disturbed by + conflicting feelings, that Madame Dodelin’s curiosity overcame her + prudence, and she remained standing in front of him with open mouth, + staring with all her eyes and listening with all her ears. He perceived + this, and angrily exclaimed: “What are you doing here? You are watching + me, I do believe. Get back to your kitchen, or——” + </p> + <p> + She fled in alarm, and he then entered his private office. His heart was + leaping with joy, and he laughed wickedly at the hope of a speedy revenge. + “She’s on the scent,” he muttered; “and she has luck in her favor. She has + chanced to apply to me on the very day that I had resolved to defend and + rehabilitate her lover, the honest fool who allowed himself to be + dishonored by those unscrupulous blackguards. Just as I was thinking of + going in search of her, she comes to me. As I was about to write to her, + she writes to me. Who can deny the existence of Providence after this?” + Like many other people, M. Fortunat piously believed in Providence when + things went to his liking, but it is sad to add that in the contrary case + he denied its existence. “If she has any courage,” he resumed, “and she + seems to have plenty of it, Valorsay and Coralth will be in a tight place + soon. And if it takes ten thousand francs to put them there, and if + neither Mademoiselle Marguerite nor M. Ferailleur has the amount—ah, + well! I’ll advance—well, at least five thousand—without + charging them any commission. I’ll even pay the expenses out of my own + pocket, if necessary. Ah, my fine fellows, you’ve laughed too soon. In a + week’s time we’ll see who laughs last.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, for Victor Chupin, who had lingered behind to pay the driver, + had just entered the room. “You gave me twenty francs, m’sieur,” he + remarked to his employer. “I paid the driver four francs and five sous, + here’s the change.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep it yourself, Victor,” said M. Fortunat. + </p> + <p> + What! keep fifteen francs and fifteen sous? Under any other circumstances + such unusual generosity would have drawn a grimace of satisfaction from + young Chupin. But to-day he did not even smile; he slipped the money + carelessly into his pocket, and scarcely deigned to say “thanks,” in the + coldest possible tone. + </p> + <p> + Absorbed in thought, M. Fortunat did not remark this little circumstance. + “We have them, Victor,” he resumed. “I told you that Valorsay and Coralth + should pay me for their treason. Vengeance is near. Read this letter.” + Victor read it slowly, and as soon as he had finished his employer + ejaculated, “Well?” + </p> + <p> + But Chupin was not a person to give advice lightly. “Excuse me, m’sieur,” + said he, “but in order to answer you, I must have some knowledge of the + affair. I only know what you’ve told me—which is little enough—and + what I’ve guessed. In fact, I know nothing at all.” + </p> + <p> + M. Fortunat reflected for a moment. “You are right, Victor,” he said, at + last. “So far the explanation I gave you was all that was necessary; but + now that I expect more important services from you, I ought to tell you + the whole truth, or at least all I know about the affair. This will prove + my great confidence in you.” Whereupon, he acquainted Chupin with + everything he knew concerning the history of M. de Chalusse, the Marquis + de Valorsay, and Mademoiselle Marguerite. + </p> + <p> + However, if he expected these disclosures to elevate him in his + subordinate’s estimation he was greatly mistaken. Chupin had sufficient + experience and common sense to read his master’s character and discern his + motives. He saw plainly enough that this honest impulse on M. Fortunat’s + part came from disappointed avarice and wounded vanity, and that the agent + would have allowed the Marquis de Valorsay to carry out his infamous + scheme without any compunctions of conscience, providing he, himself, had + not been injured by it. Still, the young fellow did not allow his real + feelings to appear on his face. First, it was not his business to tell M. + Fortunat his opinion of him; and in the second place, he did not deem it + an opportune moment for a declaration of his sentiments. So, when his + employer paused, he exclaimed: “Well, we must outwit these scoundrels—for + I’ll join you, m’sieur; and I flatter myself that I can be very useful to + you. Do you want the particulars of the viscount’s past life? If so, I can + furnish them. I know the brigand. He’s married, as I told you before, and + I’ll find his wife for you in a few days. I don’t know exactly where she + lives, but she keeps a tobacco store, somewhere, and that’s enough. She’ll + tell you how much he’s a viscount. Ha! ha! Viscount just as much as I am—and + no more. I can tell you the scrapes he has been in.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt; but the most important thing is to know how he’s living now, + and on what!” + </p> + <p> + “Not by honest work, I can tell you. But give me a little time, and I’ll + find out for sure. As soon as I can go home, change my clothes, and + disguise myself, I’ll start after him; and may I be hung, if I don’t + return with a complete report before Tuesday.” + </p> + <p> + A smile of satisfaction appeared on M. Fortunat’s face. “Good, Victor!” he + said, approvingly, “very good! I see that you will serve me with your + usual zeal and intelligence. Rest assured that you will be rewarded as you + have never been rewarded before. As long as you are engaged in this + affair, you shall have ten francs a day; and I’ll pay your board, your + cab-hire, and all your expenses.” + </p> + <p> + This was a most liberal offer, and yet, far from seeming delighted, Chupin + gravely shook his head. “You know how I value money, m’sieur,” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Too much, Victor, my boy, too much——” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, it’s because I have responsibilities, m’sieur. You know my + establishment”—he spoke this word with a grandiloquent air—“you + have seen my good mother—my expenses are heavy——” + </p> + <p> + “In short, you don’t think I offer you enough?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, sir—but you don’t allow me to finish. I love + money, don’t I? But no matter, I don’t want to be paid for this business. + I don’t want either my board or my expenses, not a penny—nothing. + I’ll serve you, but for my own sake, for my own pleasure—gratis.” + </p> + <p> + M. Fortunat could not restrain an exclamation of astonishment. Chupin, who + was as eager for gain as an old usurer—Chupin, as grasping as + avarice itself, refuse money! This was something which he had never seen + before, and which he would no doubt never see again. + </p> + <p> + Victor had become very much excited; his usually pale cheeks were crimson, + and in a harsh voice, he continued: “It’s a fancy of mine—that’s + all. I have eight hundred francs hidden in my room, the fruit of years of + work. I’ll spend the last penny of it if need be; and if I can see Coralth + in the mire, I shall say, ‘My money has been well expended.’ I’d rather + see that day dawn than be the possessor of a hundred thousand francs. If a + horrible vision haunted you every night, and prevented you from sleeping, + wouldn’t you give something to get rid of it? Very well! that brigand’s my + nightmare. There must be an end to it.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Coralth, who was a man of wide experience, would certainly have felt + alarmed if he had seen his unknown enemy at the present moment, for + Victor’s eyes, usually a pale and undecided blue, were glittering like + steel, and his hands were clinched most threateningly. “For he was the + cause of all my trouble,” he continued, gloomily. “I’ve told you, sir, + that I was guilty of an infamous deed once upon a time. If it hadn’t been + for a miracle I should have killed a man—the king of men. Ah, well! + if Monsieur Andre had broken his back by falling from a fifth-floor + window, my Coralth would be the Duc de Champdoce to-day. And shall he be + allowed to ride about in his carriage, and deceive and ruin honest people? + No—there are too many such villains at large for public safety. Wait + a little, Coralth—I owe you something, and I always pay my debts. + When M. Andre saved me, though I richly deserved to have my throat cut, he + made no conditions. He only said, ‘If you are not irredeemably bad you + will be honest after this.’ And he said these words as he was lying there + as pale as death with his shoulder broken, and his body mangled from his + fall. Great heavens! I felt smaller than—than nothing before him. + But I swore that I would do honor to his teachings—and when evil + thoughts enter my mind, and when I feel a thirst for liquor, I say to + myself, ‘Wait a bit, and—and M. Andre will take a glass with you.’ + And that quenches my thirst instantly. I have his portrait at home, and + every night, before going to bed, I tell him the history of the day—and + sometimes I fancy that he smiles at me. All this is very absurd, perhaps, + but I’m not ashamed of it. M. Andre and my good mother, they are my + supports, my crutches, and with them I’m not afraid of making a false + step.” Schebel, the German philosopher, who has written a treatise on + Volition, in four volumes, was no greater a man than Chupin. “So you may + keep your money, sir,” he resumed. “I’m an honest fellow, and honest men + ought to ask no reward for the performance of a duty. Coralth mustn’t be + allowed to triumph over the innocent chap he ruined. What did you call + him? Ferailleur? It’s an odd name. Never mind—we’ll get him out of + this scrape; he shall marry his sweetheart after all; and I’ll dance at + the wedding.” + </p> + <p> + As he finished speaking he laughed a shrill, dangerous laugh, which + revealed his sharp teeth—but such invincible determination was + apparent on his face, that M. Fortunat felt no misgivings. He was sure + that this volunteer would be of more service than the highest-priced + hireling. “So I can count on you, Victor?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “As upon yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “And you hope to have some positive information by Tuesday?” + </p> + <p> + “Before then, I hope, if nothing goes amiss.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; I will devote my attention to Ferailleur then. As to + Valorsay’s affairs, I am better acquainted with them than he is himself. + We must be prepared to enter upon the campaign when Mademoiselle + Marguerite comes, and we will act in accordance with her instructions.” + </p> + <p> + Chupin had already caught up his hat; but just as he was leaving the room, + he paused abruptly. “How stupid!” he exclaimed. “I had forgotten the + principal thing. Where does Coralth live?” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + According to his habit when things did not go to his liking, Chupin began + to scratch his head furiously. “That’s bad,” growled he. “Viscounts of his + stamp don’t parade their addresses in the directory. Still, I shall find + him.” However, although he expressed this conviction he went off decidedly + out of temper. + </p> + <p> + “I shall lose the entire evening hunting up the rascal’s address,” he + grumbled, as he hastened homeward. “And whom shall I ask for it?—Madame + d’Argeles’s concierge? Would he know it—M. Wilkie’s servant? That + would be dangerous.” He thought of roaming sound about M. de Valorsay’s + residence, and of bribing one of the valets; but while crossing the + boulevard, the sight of Brebant’s Restaurant put a new idea into his head. + “I have it!” he muttered; “my man’s caught!” And he darted into the + nearest cafe where he ordered some beer and writing materials. + </p> + <p> + Under other circumstances, he would have hesitated to employ so hazardous + an expedient as the one he was about to resort to, but the character of + his adversaries justified any course; besides, time was passing, and he + had no choice of resources. As soon as the waiter served him, he drained + his glass of beer to give himself an inspiration, and then, in his finest + hand, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MY DEAR VISCOUNT—Here’s the amount—one hundred francs—that I + lost to you last evening at piquet. When shall I have my revenge? + Your friend, + “VALORSAY.” + </pre> + <p> + When he had finished this letter he read it over three or four times, + asking himself if this were the style of composition that very fashionable + folks employ in repaying their debts. To tell the truth, he doubted it. In + the rough draft which he penned at first, he had written bezique, but in + the copy he wrote piquet, which he deemed a more aristocratic game. + “However,” said he, “no one will examine it closely!” + </p> + <p> + Then, as soon as the ink was dry, he folded the letter and slipped it into + an envelope with a hundred franc-note which he drew from an old + pocketbook. He next addressed the envelope as follows: “Monsieur le + Vicomte de Coralth, En Ville,” and having completed his preparations, he + paid his score, and hastened to Brebant’s. Two waiters were standing at + the doorway, and, showing them the letter, he politely asked: “Do you + happen to know this name? A gentleman dropped this letter on leaving your + place last evening. I ran after him to return it; but I couldn’t overtake + him.” + </p> + <p> + The waiters examined the address. “Coralth!” they replied. “We scarcely + know him. He isn’t a regular customer, but he comes here occasionally.” + </p> + <p> + “And where does he live?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you wish to know?” + </p> + <p> + “So as to take him this letter, to be sure!” + </p> + <p> + The waiters shrugged their shoulders. “Let the letter go; it is not worth + while to trouble yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Chupin had foreseen this objection, and was prepared for it. “But there’s + money in the letter,” he remonstrated. And opening the envelope, he showed + the bank-note which he had taken from his own pocket-book. + </p> + <p> + This changed the matter entirely. “That is quite a different thing,” + remarked one of the waiters. “If you find money, you are, of course, + responsible for it. But just leave it here at the desk, and the next time + the viscount comes in, the cashier will give it to him.” + </p> + <p> + A cold chill crept over Chupin at the thought of losing his bank-note in + this way. “Ah! I don’t fancy that idea!” he exclaimed. “Leave it here? + Never in life! Who’d get the reward? A viscount is always generous; it is + quite likely he would give me twenty francs as a reward for my honesty. + And that’s why I want his address.” + </p> + <p> + The argument was of a nature to touch the waiters; they thought the young + man quite right; but they did not know M. de Coralth’s address, and they + saw no way of procuring it. “Unless perhaps the porter knows,” observed + one of them. + </p> + <p> + The porter, on being called, remembered that he had once been sent to M. + de Coralth’s house for an overcoat. “I’ve forgotten his number,” he + declared; “but he lives in the Rue d’Anjou, near the corner of the Rue de + la Ville l’Eveque.” + </p> + <p> + This direction was not remarkable for its precision, but it was more than + sufficient for a pure-blooded Parisian like Victor Chupin. “Many thanks + for your kindness,” he said to the porter. “A blind man, perhaps, might + not be able to go straight to M. de Coralth’s house from your directions, + but I have eyes and a tongue as well. And, believe me, if there’s any + reward, you shall see that I know how to repay a good turn.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you don’t find the viscount,” added the waiters, “bring the money + here, and it will be returned to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally!” replied Chupin. And he strode hurriedly away. “Return!” he + muttered; “not I! I thought for a moment they had their hands on my + precious bank-note.” + </p> + <p> + But he had already recovered from his fright, and as he turned his steps + homeward he congratulated himself on the success of his stratagem. “For my + viscount is caught,” he said to himself. “The Rue d’Anjou Saint Honore + hasn’t a hundred numbers in it, and even if I’m compelled to go from door + to door, my task will soon be accomplished.” + </p> + <p> + On reaching home he found his mother engaged in knitting, as usual. This + was the only avocation that her almost complete blindness allowed her to + pursue; and she followed it constantly. “Ah! here you are, Toto,” she + exclaimed, joyously. “I didn’t expect you so soon. Don’t you scent a + savory smell? As you must be greatly tired after being up all night, I’m + making you a stew.” + </p> + <p> + As customary when he returned, Chupin embraced the good woman with the + respectful tenderness which had so surprised M. Fortunat. “You are always + kind,” said he, “but, unfortunately, I can’t remain to dine with you.” + </p> + <p> + “But you promised me.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true, mamma; but business, you see—business.” + </p> + <p> + The worthy woman shook her head. “Always business!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—when a fellow hasn’t ten thousand francs a year.” + </p> + <p> + “You have become a worker, Toto, and that makes me very happy; but you are + too eager for money, and that frightens me.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s to say, you fear I shall do something dishonest. Ah! mother! do + you think I can forget you and Monsieur Andre?” + </p> + <p> + His mother said no more, and he entered the tiny nook which he so + pompously styled his chamber, and quickly changed the clothes he was + wearing (his Sunday toggery) for an old pair of checked trousers, a black + blouse, and a glazed cap. And when he had finished, and given a peculiar + turn to his hair, no one would have recognized him. In place of M. + Fortunat’s respectable clerk, there appeared one of those vagabonds who + hang about cafes and theatres from six in the evening till midnight, and + spend the rest of their time playing cards in the low drinking dens near + the barrieres. It was the old Chupin come to life once more—Toto + Chupin as he had appeared before his conversion. And as he took a last + look in the little glass hanging over the table, he was himself astonished + at the transformation. “Ah!” he muttered, “I was a sorry looking devil in + those days.” + </p> + <p> + Although he had cautiously avoided making any noise in dressing, his + mother, with the wonderfully acute hearing of the blind, had followed each + of his movements as surely as if she had been standing near watching him. + “You have changed your clothes, Toto,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “But why have you put on your blouse, my son?” + </p> + <p> + Although accustomed to his mother’s remarkable quickness of perception, he + was amazed. Still he did not think of denying it. She would only have to + extend her hand to prove that he was telling a falsehood. The blind + woman’s usually placid face had become stern. “So it is necessary to + disguise yourself,” she said, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “But, mother——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, my son! When a man doesn’t wish to be recognized, he’s evidently + doing something he’s ashamed of. Ever since your employer came here, you + have been concealing something from me. Take care, Toto! Since I heard + that man’s voice, I’m sure that he is quite as capable of urging you to + commit a crime as others were in days gone by.” + </p> + <p> + The blind woman was preaching to a convert; for during the past three + days, M. Fortunat had shown himself in such a light that Chupin had + secretly resolved to change his employer. “I promise you I’ll leave him, + mother,” he declared, “so you may be quite easy in mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; but now, at this moment, where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + There was only one way of completely reassuring the good woman, and that + was to tell her all. Chupin did so with absolute frankness. “Ah, well!” + she said, when the narrative was finished. “You see now how easy it is to + lead you astray! How could you be induced to play the part of a spy, when + you know so well what it leads to? It’s only God’s protecting care that + has saved you again from an act which you would have reproached yourself + for all your life. Your employer’s intentions are good now; but they WERE + criminal when he ordered you to follow Madame d’Argeles. Poor woman! She + had sacrificed herself for her son, she had concealed herself from him, + and you were working to betray her. Poor creature! how she must have + suffered, and how much I pity her! To be what she is, and to see herself + denounced by her own son! I, who am only a poor plebeian, should die of + shame under such circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + Chupin blew his nose so loudly that the window-panes rattled; this was his + way of repressing his emotion whenever it threatened to overcome him. “You + speak like the good mother that you are,” he exclaimed at last, “and I’m + prouder of you than if you were the handsomest and richest lady in Paris, + for you’re certainly the most honest and virtuous; and I should be a + thorough scoundrel if I caused you a moment’s sorrow. And if ever I set my + foot in such a mess again, I hope some one will cut it off. But for this + once——” + </p> + <p> + “For this once, you may go, Toto; I give my consent.” + </p> + <p> + He went off with a lighter heart; and on reaching the Rue d’Anjou he + immediately began his investigations. They were not successful at first. + At every house where he made inquiries nobody had any knowledge of the + Viscount de Coralth. He had visited half the buildings in the street, when + he reached one of the handsomest houses, in front of which stood a cart + laden with plants and flowers. An old man, who seemed to be the concierge, + and a valet in a red waistcoat, were removing the plants from the vehicle + and arranging them in a line under the porte cochere. As soon as the cart + was emptied, it drove away, whereupon Chupin stepped forward, and + addressing the concierge, asked: “Does the Viscount de Coralth live here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What do you want with him?” + </p> + <p> + Having foreseen this question, Chupin had prepared a reply. “I certainly + don’t come to call on him,” he answered. “My reason for inquiring is this: + just now, as I passed near the Madeleine, a very elegant lady called me, + and said: ‘M. de Coralth lives in the Rue d’Anjou, but I’ve forgotten the + number. I can’t go about from door to door making inquiries, so if you’ll + go there and ascertain his address for me, I’ll give you five francs for + yourself,’ so my money’s made.” + </p> + <p> + Profiting by his old Parisian experience, Chupin had chosen such a clever + excuse that both his listeners heartily laughed. “Well, Father Moulinet,” + cried the servant in the red waistcoat, “what do you say to that? Are + there any elegant ladies who give five francs for YOUR address?” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any lady who’s likely to send such flowers as these to YOU?” was + the response. + </p> + <p> + Chupin was about to retire with a bow, when the concierge stopped him. + “You accomplish your errands so well that perhaps you’d be willing to take + these flower-pots up to the second floor, if we gave you a glass of wine!” + </p> + <p> + No proposal could have suited Chupin better. Although he was prone to + exaggerate his own powers and the fecundity of his resources, he had not + flattered himself with the hope that he should succeed in crossing the + threshold of M. de Coralth’s rooms. For, without any great mental effort, + he had realized that the servant arrayed in the red waistcoat was in the + viscount’s employ, and these flowers were to be carried to his apartments. + However any signs of satisfaction would have seemed singular under the + circumstances, and so he sulkily replied: “A glass of wine! you had better + say two.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll say a whole bottleful, my boy, if that suits you any better,” + replied the servant, with the charming good-nature so often displayed by + people who are giving other folk’s property away. + </p> + <p> + “Then I’m at your service!” exclaimed Chupin. And, loading himself with a + host of flower-pots as skilfully as if he had been accustomed to handling + them all his life, he added: “Now, lead the way.” + </p> + <p> + The valet and the concierge preceded him with empty hands, of course; and, + on reaching the second floor, they opened a door, and said: “This is the + place. Come in.” + </p> + <p> + Chupin had expected to find that M. de Coralth’s apartments were handsomer + than his own in the Faubourg Saint Denis; but he had scarcely imagined + such luxury as pervaded this establishment. The chandeliers seemed marvels + in his eyes; and the sumptuous chairs and couches eclipsed M. Fortunat’s + wonderful sofa completely. “So he no longer amuses himself with petty + rascalities,” thought Chupin, as he surveyed the rooms. “Monsieur’s + working on a grand scale now. Decidedly this mustn’t be allowed to + continue.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon he busied himself placing the flowers in the numerous + jardinieres scattered about the rooms, as well as in a tiny conservatory, + cleverly contrived on the balcony, and adjoining a little apartment with + silk hangings, that was used as a smoking-room. Under the surveillance of + the concierge and the valet he was allowed to visit the whole apartments. + He admired the drawing-room, filled to overflowing with costly trifles; + the dining-room, furnished in old oak; the luxurious bed-room with its bed + mounted upon a platform, as if it were a throne, and the library filled + with richly bound volumes. Everything was beautiful, sumptuous and + magnificent, and Chupin admired, though he did not envy, this luxury. He + said to himself that, if ever he became rich, his establishment should be + quite different. He would have preferred rather more simplicity, a trifle + less satin, velvet, hangings, mirrors and gilding. Still this did not + prevent him from going into ecstasies over each room he entered; and he + expressed his admiration so artlessly that the valet, feeling as much + flattered as if he were the owner of the place, took a sort of pride in + exhibiting everything. + </p> + <p> + He showed Chupin the target which the viscount practised at with pistols + for an hour every morning; for Monsieur le Vicomte was a capital marksman, + and could lodge eight balls out of ten in the neck of a bottle at a + distance of twenty paces. He also displayed his master’s swords; for + Monsieur le Vicomte handled side arms as adroitly as pistols. He took a + lesson every day from one of the best fencing-masters in Paris; and his + duels had always terminated fortunately. He also showed the viscount’s + blue velvet dressing-gown, his fur-trimmed slippers, and even his + elaborately embroidered night-shirts. But it was the dressing-room that + most astonished and stupefied Chupin. He stood gazing in open-mouthed + wonder at the immense white marble table, with its water spigots and its + basins, its sponges and boxes, its pots and vials and cups; and he counted + the brushes by the dozen—brushes hard and soft, brushes for the + hair, for the beard, for the hands, and the application of cosmetic to the + mustaches and eyebrows. Never had he seen in one collection such a variety + of steel and silver instruments, knives, pincers, scissors, and files. + “One might think oneself in a chiropodist’s, or a dentist’s + establishment,” remarked Chupin to the servant. “Does your master use all + these every day?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, or rather twice a day—morning and evening—at his + toilette.” + </p> + <p> + Chupin expressed his feelings with a grimace and an exclamation of mocking + wonder. “Ah, well! he must have a clean skin,” he said. + </p> + <p> + His listeners laughed heartily; and the concierge, after exchanging a + significant glance with the valet, said sotto voce, “Zounds! it’s his + business to be a handsome fellow!” The mystery was solved. + </p> + <p> + While Chupin changed the contents of the jardinieres, and remained + upstairs in the intervals between the nine or ten journeys he made to the + porte-cochere for more flowers, he listened attentively to the + conversation between the concierge and the valet, and heard snatches of + sentences that enlightened him wonderfully. Moreover, whenever a question + arose as to placing a plant in one place rather than another, the valet + stated as a conclusive argument that the baroness liked it in such or such + a place, or that she would be better pleased with this or that + arrangement, or that he must comply with the instructions she had given + him. Chupin was therefore obliged to conclude that the flowers had been + sent here by a baroness who possessed certain rights in the establishment. + But who was she? + </p> + <p> + He was manoeuvering cleverly in the hope of ascertaining this point, when + a carriage was heard driving into the courtyard below. “Monsieur must have + returned!” exclaimed the valet, darting to the window. + </p> + <p> + Chupin also ran to look out, and saw a very elegant blue-lined brougham, + drawn by a superb horse, but he did not perceive the viscount. In point of + fact, M. de Coralth was already climbing the stairs, four at a time, and, + a moment later, he entered the room, angrily exclaiming, “Florent, what + does this mean? Why have you left all the doors open?” + </p> + <p> + Florent was the servant in the red waistcoat. He slightly shrugged his + shoulders like a servant who knows too many of his master’s secrets to + have anything to fear, and in the calmest possible tone replied, “If the + doors are open, it is only because the baroness has just sent some + flowers. On Sunday, too, what a funny idea! And I have been treating + Father Moulinet and this worthy fellow” (pointing to Chupin) “to a glass + of wine, to acknowledge their kindness in assisting me.” + </p> + <p> + Fearing recognition, Chupin hid his face as much as possible; but M. de + Coralth did not pay the slightest attention to him. There was a dark frown + on his handsome, usually smiling countenance, and his hair was in great + disorder. Evidently enough, something had greatly annoyed him. “I am going + out again,” he remarked to his valet, “but first of all I must write two + letters which you must deliver immediately.” + </p> + <p> + He passed into the drawing-room as he spoke, and Florent scarcely waited + till the door was closed before uttering an oath. “May the devil take + him!” he exclaimed. “Here he sets me on the go again. It is five o’clock, + too, and I have an appointment in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden hope quickened the throbbings of Chupin’s heart. He touched the + valet’s arm, and in his most persuasive tone remarked: “I’ve nothing to + do, and as your wine was so good, I’ll do your errands for you, if you’ll + pay me for the wear and tear of shoe-leather.” + </p> + <p> + Chupin’s appearance must have inspired confidence, for the servant + replied:—“Well—I don’t refuse—but we’ll see.” + </p> + <p> + The viscount did not spend much time in writing; he speedily reappeared + holding two letters which he flung upon the table, saying: “One of these + is for the baroness. You must deliver it into HER hands or into the hands + of her maid—there will be no answer. You will afterward take the + other to the person it is addressed to, and you must wait for an answer + which you will place on my writing-table—and make haste.” So saying, + the viscount went off as he had entered—on the run—and a + moment later, his brougham was heard rolling out of the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + Florent was crimson with rage. “There,” said he, addressing Chupin rather + than the concierge, “what did I tell you? A letter to be placed in + madame’s own hands or in the hands of her maid, and to be concealed from + the baron, who is on the watch, of course. Naturally no one can execute + that commission but myself.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true!” replied Chupin; “but how about the other?” + </p> + <p> + The valet had not yet examined the second letter. He now took it from the + table, and glanced at the address. “Ah,” said he, “I can confide this one + to you, my good fellow, and it’s very fortunate, for it is to be taken to + a place on the other side of the river. Upon my word! masters are strange + creatures! You manage your work so as to have a little leisure, and the + moment you think yourself free, pouf!—they send you anywhere in + creation without even asking if it suits your convenience. If it hadn’t + been for you, I should have missed a dinner with some very charming + ladies. But, above all, don’t loiter on the way. I don’t mind paying your + omnibus fare if you like. And you heard him say there would be an answer. + You can give it to Moulinet, and in exchange, he’ll give you fifteen sous + for your trouble, and six sous for your omnibus fare. Besides, if you can + extract anything from the party the letter’s intended for, you are quite + welcome to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed, sir! Grant me time enough to give an answer to the lady who is + waiting at the Madeleine, and I’m on my way. Give me the letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Here it is,” said the valet, handing it to Chupin. But as the latter + glanced at the address he turned deadly pale, and his eyes almost started + from their sockets. For this is what he read: “Madame Paul. Dealer in + Tobacco. Quai de la Seine.” Great as was his self-control, his emotion was + too evident to escape notice. “What’s the matter with you?” asked the + concierge and the valet in the same breath. “What has happened to you?” + </p> + <p> + A powerful effort of will restored this young fellow’s coolness, and ready + in an instant with an excuse for his blunder, he replied, “I have changed + my mind. What! you’d only give me fifteen sous to measure such a distance + as that! Why, it isn’t a walk—it’s a journey!” + </p> + <p> + His explanation was accepted without demur. His listeners thought he was + only taking advantage of the need they had of his services—as was + perfectly natural under the circumstances. “What! So you are + dissatisfied!” cried the valet. “Very well! you shall have thirty sous—but + be off!” + </p> + <p> + “So I will, at once,” replied Chupin. And, imitating the whistle of a + locomotive with wonderful perfection, he darted away at a pace which + augured a speedy return. + </p> + <p> + However, when he was some twenty yards from the house he stopped short, + glanced around him, and espying a dark corner slipped into it. “That fool + in the red waistcoat will be coming out to take the letter to that famous + baroness,” he thought. “I’m here, and I’ll watch him and see where he + goes. I should like to find out the name of the kind and charitable lady + who watches over his brigand of a master with such tender care.” + </p> + <p> + The day and the hour were in his favor. Night was coming on, hastened by a + thick fog; the street lamps were not yet lighted, and as it was Sunday + most of the shops were closed. It grew dark so rapidly that Chupin was + scarcely able to recognize Florent when he at last emerged from the house. + It is true that he looked altogether unlike the servant in the red + waist-coat. As he had the key to the wardrobe containing his master’s + clothes, he did not hesitate to use them whenever an opportunity offered. + On this occasion he had appropriated a pair of those delicately tinted + trousers which were M. de Coralth’s specialty, with a handsome overcoat, a + trifle too small for him, and a very elegant hat. + </p> + <p> + “Fine doings, indeed!” growled Chupin as he started in pursuit. “My + servants sha’n’t serve me in that way if I ever have any.” + </p> + <p> + But he paused in his soliloquy, and prudently hid himself under a + neighboring gateway. The gorgeous Florent was ringing at the door of one + of the most magnificent mansions in the Rue de la Ville l’Eveque. The door + was opened, and he went in. “Ah! ah!” thought Chupin, “he hadn’t far to + go. The viscount and the baroness are shrewd. When you have flowers to + send to anybody it’s convenient to be neighbors!” + </p> + <p> + He glanced round, and seeing an old man smoking his pipe on the threshold + of a shop, he approached him and asked politely “Can you tell me whom that + big house belongs to?” + </p> + <p> + “To Baron Trigault,” replied the man, without releasing his hold on his + pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, monsieur,” replied Chupin, gravely. “I inquired, because I + think of buying a house.” And repeating the name of Trigault several times + to impress it upon his memory he darted off on his errand. + </p> + <p> + It might be supposed that his unexpected success had delighted him, but, + on the contrary, it rendered him even more exacting. The letter he carried + burned his pocket like a red-hot iron. “Madame Paul,” he muttered, “that + must be the rascal’s wife. First, Paul is his Christian name; secondly, + I’ve been told that his wife keeps a tobacco shop—so the case is + plain. But the strangest thing about it is that this husband and wife + should write to each other, when I fancied them at dagger’s ends.” Chupin + would have given a pint of his own blood to know the contents of the + missive. The idea of opening it occurred to him, and it must be confessed + that it was not a feeling of delicacy that prevented him. He was deterred + by a large seal which had been carefully affixed, and which would plainly + furnish evidence if the letter were tampered with. Thus Chupin was + punished for Florent’s faults, for this seal was the viscount’s’ + invariable precaution against his servant’s prying curiosity. So our + enterprising youth could only read and re-read the superscription and + smell the paper, which was strongly scented with verbena. He fancied that + there was some mysterious connection between this letter intended for M. + de Coralth’s wife and the missive sent to the baroness. And why should it + not be so? Had they not both been written under the influence of anger? + Still he failed to perceive any possible connection between the rich + baroness and the poor tobacco dealer, and his cogitations only made him + more perplexed than ever. However, his efforts to solve the mystery did + not interfere with the free use of his limbs, and he soon found himself on + the Quai de la Seine. “Here I am,” he muttered. “I’ve come more quickly + than an omnibus.” + </p> + <p> + The Quai de la Seine is a broad road, connecting the Rue de Flandres with + the canal de l’Ourcq. On the left-hand side it is bordered with miserable + shanties interspersed with some tiny shops, and several huge coal depots. + On the right-hand side—that next to the canal—there are also a + few provision stores. In the daytime there is no noisier nor livelier + place than this same Quai; but nothing could be more gloomy at night-time + when the shops are closed, when the few gas-lamps only increase the + grimness of the shadows, and when the only sound that breaks the silence + is the rippling of the water as its smooth surface is ruffled by some + boatman propelling his skiff through the canal. + </p> + <p> + “The Viscount must certainly have made a mistake,” thought Chupin; “there + is no such shop on the Quai.” He was wrong, however; for after passing the + Rue de Soissons he espied the red lantern of a tobacco-shop, glimmering + through the fog. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. + </h2> + <p> + Having almost reached the goal, Chupin slackened his pace. He approached + the shop very cautiously and peered inside, deeming it prudent to + reconnoitre a little before he went in. And certainly there was nothing to + prevent a prolonged scrutiny. The night was very dark, the quay deserted. + No one was to be seen; not a sound broke the stillness. The darkness, the + surroundings, and the silence were sinister enough to make even Chupin + shudder, though he was usually as thoroughly at home in the loneliest and + most dangerous by-ways of Paris as an honest man of the middle classes + would be in the different apartments of his modest household. “That + scoundrel’s wife must have less than a hundred thousand a year if she + takes up her abode here!” thought Chupin. + </p> + <p> + And, in fact, nothing could be more repulsive than the tenement in which + Madame Paul had installed herself. It was but one story high, and built of + clay, and it had fallen to ruin to such an extent that it had been found + necessary to prop it up with timber, and to nail some old boards over the + yawning fissures in the walls. “If I lived here, I certainly shouldn’t + feel quite at ease on a windy day,” continued Chupin, sotto voce. + </p> + <p> + The shop itself was of a fair size, but most wretched in its appointments, + and disgustingly dirty. The floor was covered with that black and + glutinous coal-dust which forms the soil of the Quai de la Seine. An + auctioneer would have sold the entire stock and fixtures for a few + shillings. Four stone jars, and a couple of pairs of scales, a few odd + tumblers, filled with pipes and packets of cigarettes, some wine-glasses, + and three or four labelled bottles, five or six boxes of cigars, and as + many packages of musty tobacco, constituted the entire stock in trade. + </p> + <p> + As Chupin compared this vile den with the viscount’s luxurious abode, his + blood fairly boiled in his veins. “He ought to be shot for this, if for + nothing else,” he muttered through his set teeth. “To let his wife die of + starvation here!” For it was M. de Coralth’s wife who kept this shop. + Chupin, who had seen her years before, recognized her now as she sat + behind her counter, although she was cruelly changed. “That’s her,” he + murmured. “That’s certainly Mademoiselle Flavie.” + </p> + <p> + He had used her maiden name in speaking of her. Poor woman! She was + undoubtedly still young—but sorrow, regret, and privations, days + spent in hard work to earn a miserable subsistence, and nights spent in + weeping, had made her old, haggard, and wrinkled before her time. Of her + once remarkable beauty naught remained but her hair, which was still + magnificent, though it was in wild disorder, and looked as if it had not + been touched by a comb for weeks; and her big black eyes, which gleamed + with the phosphorescent and destructive brilliancy of fever. Everything + about her person bespoke terrible reverses, borne without dignity. Even if + she had struggled at first, it was easy to see that she struggled no + longer. Her attire—her torn and soiled silk dress, and her dirty cap—revealed + thorough indolence, and that morbid indifference which at times follows + great misfortunes with weak natures. + </p> + <p> + “Such is life,” thought Chupin, philosophically. “Here’s a girl who was + brought up like a queen and allowed to have her own way in everything! If + any one had predicted this in those days, how she would have sneered! I + can see her now as she looked that day when I met her driving her gray + ponies. If people didn’t clear the road it was so much the worse for them! + In those times Paris was like some great shop where she could select + whatever she chose. She said: ‘I want this,’ and she got it. She saw a + handsome young fellow and wanted him for her husband; her father, who + could refuse her nothing, consented, and now behold the result!” + </p> + <p> + He had lingered longer at the window than he had meant to do, perhaps + because he could see that the young woman was talking with some person in + a back room, the door of which stood open. Chupin tried to find out who + this person was, but he did not succeed; and he was about to go in when + suddenly he saw Madame Paul rise from her seat and say a few words with an + air of displeasure. And this time her eyes, instead of turning to the open + door, were fixed on a part of the shop directly opposite her. “Is there + some one there as well, then?” Chupin wondered. + </p> + <p> + He changed his post of observation, and, by standing on tiptoe, he + succeeded in distinguishing a puny little boy, some three or four years + old, and clad in rags, who was playing with the remnants of a toy-horse. + The sight of this child increased Chupin’s indignation. “So there’s a + child?” he growled. “The rascal not only deserts his wife, but he leaves + his child to starve! We may as well make a note of that: and when we + settle up our accounts, he shall pay dearly for his villainy.” With this + threat he brusquely entered the shop. + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish, sir?” asked the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing; I bring you a letter, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “A letter for me! You must be mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me; aren’t you Madame Paul?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then this is for you.” And he handed her the missive which Florent had + confided to his care. + </p> + <p> + Madame Paul took hold of it with some hesitation, eying the messenger + suspiciously meanwhile; but, on seeing the handwriting, she uttered a cry + of surprise. And, turning toward the open door, she called, “M. Mouchon! + M. Mouchon! It’s from him—it’s from my husband; from Paul. Come, + come!” + </p> + <p> + A bald-headed, corpulent man, who looked some fifty years of age, now + timidly emerged from the room behind the shop with a cap in his hand. “Ah, + well! my dear child,” he said, in an oily voice, “what was I telling you + just now? Everything comes to those who know how to wait.” + </p> + <p> + However she had already broken the seal, and she was now reading the + letter eagerly, clapping her hands with delight as she finished its + perusal. “He consents!” she exclaimed. “He’s frightened—he begs me + to wait a little—look—read!” + </p> + <p> + But M. Mouchon could not read without his spectacles, and he lost at least + two minutes in searching his pockets before he found them. And when they + were adjusted, the light was so dim that it took him at least three + minutes more to decipher the missive. Chupin had spent this time in + scrutinizing—in appraising the man, as it were. “What is this + venerable gentleman doing here?” he thought. “He’s a middle class man, + that’s evident from his linen. He’s married—there’s a wedding-ring + on his finger; he has a daughter, for the ends of his necktie are + embroidered. He lives in the neighborhood, for, well dressed as he is, he + wears a cap. But what was he doing there in that back room in the dark?” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile M. Mouchon had finished reading the letter. “What did I tell + you?” he said complacently. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you were right!” answered Madame Paul as she took up the letter and + read it again with her eyes sparkling with joy. “And now what shall I do?” + she asked. “Wait, shall I not?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” exclaimed the elderly gentleman, in evident dismay. “You must + strike the iron while it’s hot.” + </p> + <p> + “But he promises me——” + </p> + <p> + “To promise and to keep one’s promises are two different things.” + </p> + <p> + “He wants a reply.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him——” But he stopped short, calling her attention with + a gesture to the messenger, whose eyes were glittering with intense + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + She understood. So filling a glass with some liquor, she placed it before + Chupin, and offered him a cigar, saying: “Take a seat—here’s + something to keep you from feeling impatient while you wait here.” + Thereupon she followed the old gentleman into the adjoining room, and + closed the door. + </p> + <p> + Even if Chupin had not possessed the precocious penetration he owed to his + life of adventure, the young woman and the old gentleman had said enough + to enable him to form a correct estimate of the situation. He was certain + now that he knew the contents of the letter as perfectly as if he had read + it. M. de Coralth’s anger, and his order to make haste, were both + explained. Moreover, Chupin distinctly saw what connection there was + between the letter to the baroness and the letter to Madame Paul. He + understood that one was the natural consequence of the other. Deserted by + her husband, Madame Paul had at last become weary of poverty and + privations. She had instituted a search for her husband, and, having found + him, she had written to him in this style: “I consent to abstain from + interfering with you, but only on conditions that you provide means of + subsistence for me, your lawfully wedded wife, and for your child. If you + refuse, I shall urge my claims, and ruin you. The scandal won’t be of much + use to me, it’s true, but at least I shall no longer be obliged to endure + the torture of knowing that you are surrounded by every luxury while I am + dying of starvation.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, she had evidently written that. It might not be the precise text; but + no doubt it was the purport of her letter. On receiving it, Coralth had + become alarmed. He knew only too well that if his wife made herself known + and revealed his past, it would be all over with him. But he had no money. + Charming young men like the Viscount de Coralth never have any money on + hand. So, in this emergency, the dashing young fellow had written to his + wife imploring her to have patience, and to the baroness, entreating, or + rather commanding her to advance him a certain sum at once. + </p> + <p> + This was no doubt the case, and yet there was one circumstance which + puzzled Chupin exceedingly. In former years, he had heard it asserted that + Mademoiselle Flavie was the very personification of pride, and that she + adored her husband even to madness. Had this great love vanished? Had + poverty and sorrow broken her spirit to such a degree that she was willing + to stoop to such shameful concessions! If she were acquainted with her + husband’s present life, how did it happen that she did not prefer + starvation, or the alms-house and a pauper’s grave to his assistance? + Chupin could understand how, in a moment of passion, she might be driven + to denounce her husband in the presence of his fashionable acquaintances, + how she might be impelled to ruin him so as to avenge herself; but he + could not possibly understand how she could consent to profit by the + ignominy of the man she loved. “The plan isn’t hers,” said Chupin to + himself, after a moment’s reflection. “It’s probably the work of that + stout old gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + There was a means of verifying his suspicions, for on returning into the + adjoining room, Madame Paul had not taken her son with her. He was still + sitting on the muddy floor of the shop, playing with his dilapidated + horse. Chupin called him. “Come here, my little fellow,” said he. + </p> + <p> + The child rose, and timidly approached, his eyes dilating with distrust + and astonishment. The poor boy’s repulsive uncleanliness was a terrible + charge against the mother. Did she no longer love her own offspring? The + untidiness of sorrow and poverty has its bounds. A long time must have + passed since the child’s face and hands had been washed, and his soiled + clothes were literally falling to rags. Still, he was a handsome little + fellow, and seemed fairly intelligent, in spite of his bashfulness. He was + very light-haired, and in features he was extremely like M. de Coralth. + Chupin took him on his knees, and, after looking to see if the door + communicating with the inner room were securely closed, he asked: “What’s + your name, little chap?” + </p> + <p> + “Paul.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know your father?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn’t your mother ever talk to you about him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “And what does she say?” + </p> + <p> + “That he’s rich—very rich.” + </p> + <p> + “And what else?” + </p> + <p> + The child did not reply; perhaps his mother had forbidden him to say + anything on the subject—perhaps that instinct which precedes + intelligence, just as the dawn precedes daylight, warned him to be prudent + with a stranger. “Doesn’t your papa ever come to see you?” insisted + Chupin. + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma is very poor.” + </p> + <p> + “And wouldn’t you like to go and see him?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. But he’ll come some day, and take us away with him to a + large house. We shall be all right, then; and he will give us a deal of + money and pretty dresses, and I shall have plenty of toys.” + </p> + <p> + Satisfied on this point, Chupin, pushed his investigations farther. “And + do you know this old gentleman who is with your mamma in the other room?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!—that’s Mouchon.” + </p> + <p> + “And who’s Mouchon?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s the gentleman who owns that beautiful garden at the corner of the + Rue Riquet, where there are such splendid grapes. I’m going with him to + get some.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he often come to see you?” + </p> + <p> + “Every evening. He always has goodies in his pocket for mamma and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why does he sit in that back room without any light?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he says that the customers mustn’t see him.” + </p> + <p> + It would have been an abominable act to continue this examination, and + make this child the innocent accuser of his own mother. Chupin felt + conscience-smitten even now. So he kissed the cleanest spot he could find + on the boy’s face, and set him on the floor again, saying, “Go and play.” + </p> + <p> + The child had revealed his mother’s character with cruel precision. What + had she told him about his father? That he was rich, and that, in case he + returned, he would give them plenty of money and fine clothes. The woman’s + nature stood revealed in all its deformity. Chupin had good cause to feel + proud of his discernment—all his suppositions had been confirmed. He + had read Mouchon’s character at a glance. He had recognized him as one of + those wily evil-minded men who employ their leisure to the profit of their + depravity—one of those patient, cold-blooded hypocrites who make + poverty their purveyor, and whose passion is prodigal only in advice. “So + he’s paying his court to Madame Paul,” thought Chupin. “Isn’t it shameful? + The old villain! he might at least give her enough to eat!” + </p> + <p> + So far his preoccupation had made him forget his wine and his cigar. He + emptied the glass at a single draught, but it proved far more difficult to + light the cigar. “Zounds! this is a non-combustible,” he growled. “When I + arrive at smoking ten sous cigars, I sha’n’t come here to buy them.” + </p> + <p> + However, with the help of several matches and a great deal of drawing, he + had almost succeeded, when the door opened, and Madame Paul reappeared + with a letter in her hand. She seemed greatly agitated; her anxiety was + unmistakable. “I can’t decide,” she was saying to Mouchon, whose figure + Chupin could only dimly distinguish in the darkness. “No, I can’t. If I + send this letter, I must forever renounce all hope of my husband’s return. + Whatever happens, he will never forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “He can’t treat you worse than he does now, at all events,” replied the + old gentleman. “Besides, a gloved cat has never caught a mouse yet.” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll hate me.” + </p> + <p> + “The man who wants his dog to love him, beats it; and, besides, when the + wine is drawn, one must drink it.” + </p> + <p> + This singular logic seemed to decide her. She handed the letter to Chupin, + and drawing a franc from her pocket she offered it to him. “This is for + your trouble,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He involuntarily held out his hand to take the money, but quickly withdrew + it, exclaiming: “No, thank you; keep it. I’ve been paid already.” And, + thereupon, he left the shop. + </p> + <p> + Chupin’s mother—his poor good mother, as he called her—would + certainly have felt proud and delighted at her son’s disinterestedness. + That very morning, he had refused the ten francs a day that M. Fortunat + had offered him, and this evening he declined the twenty sous proffered + him by Madame Paul. This was apparently a trifle, and yet in reality it + was something marvellous, unprecedented, on the part of this poor lad, + who, having neither trade nor profession, was obliged to earn his daily + bread through the medium of those chance opportunities which the lower + classes of Paris are continually seeking. As he returned to the Rue de + Flandres, he muttered: “Take twenty sous from that poor creature, who + hasn’t had enough to satisfy her hunger for heaven knows how long! That + would be altogether unworthy of a man.” + </p> + <p> + It is only just to say that money had never given him a feeling of + satisfaction at all comparable with that which he now experienced. He was + impressed, too, with a sense of vastly-increased importance on thinking + that all the faculties, and all the energy he had once employed in the + service of evil, were now consecrated to the service of good. By becoming + the instrument of Pascal Ferailleur’s salvation he would, in some measure, + atone for the crime he had committed years before. + </p> + <p> + Chupin’s mind was so busily occupied with these thoughts that he reached + the Rue d’Anjou and M. de Coralth’s house almost before he was aware of + it. To his great surprise, the concierge and his wife were not alone. + Florent was there, taking coffee with them. The valet had divested himself + of his borrowed finery, and had donned his red waistcoat again. He seemed + to be in a savage humor; and his anger was not at all strange under the + circumstances. There was but a step from M. de Coralth’s house to the + baroness’s residence, but fatalities may attend even a step! The baroness, + on receiving the letter from her maid, had sent a message to Florent + requesting him to wait, as she desired to speak with him! and she had been + so inconsiderate as to keep him waiting for more than an hour, so that he + had missed his appointment with the charming ladies he had spoken of. In + his despair he had returned home to seek consolation in the society of his + friend the concierge. “Have you the answer?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, here it is,” replied Chupin, and Florent had just slipped the letter + into his pocket, and was engaged in counting out the thirty sous which he + had promised his messenger, when the familiar cry, “Open, please,” was + heard outside. + </p> + <p> + M. de Coralth had returned. He sprang to the ground as soon as the + carriage entered the courtyard, and on perceiving his servant, he + exclaimed: “Have you executed my commissions?” + </p> + <p> + “They have been executed, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see the baroness?” + </p> + <p> + “She made me wait two hours to tell me that the viscount need not be + worried in the least; that she would certainly be able to comply with his + request to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Coralth seemed to breathe more freely. “And the other party?” he + inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Gave me this for monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + The viscount seized the missive, with an eager hand, tore it open, read it + at one glance, and flew into such a paroxysm of passion that he quite + forgot those around him, and began to tear the letter, and utter a string + of oaths which would have astonished a cab-driver. But suddenly realizing + his imprudence, he mastered his rage, and exclaimed, with a forced laugh: + “Ah! these women! they are enough to drive one mad!” And deeming this a + sufficient explanation, he added, addressing Florent. “Come and undress + me; I must be up early to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + This remark was not lost upon Chupin, and at seven o’clock the next + morning he mounted guard at M. de Coralth’s door. All through the day he + followed the viscount about, first to the Marquis de Valorsay’s, then to + the office of a business agent, then to M. Wilkie’s, then, in the + afternoon, to Baroness Trigault’s, and finally, in the evening, to the + house of Madame d’Argeles. Here, by making himself useful to the servants, + by his zeal in opening and shutting the doors of the carriages that left + the house, he succeeded in gathering some information concerning the + frightful scene which had taken place between the mother and the son. He + perceived M. Wilkie leave the house with his clothes in disorder, and + subsequently he saw the viscount emerge. He followed him, first to the + house of the Marquis de Valorsay, and afterward to M. Wilkie’s rooms, + where he remained till nearly daybreak. + </p> + <p> + Thus, when Chupin presented himself in M. Fortunat’s office at two o’clock + on the Tuesday afternoon, he felt that he held every possible clue to the + shameful intrigue which would ruin the viscount as soon as it was made + public. + </p> + <p> + M. Fortunat knew that his agent was shrewd, but he had not done justice to + his abilities; and it was, indeed, with something very like envy that he + listened to Chupin’s clear and circumstantial report. “I have not been as + successful,” he remarked, when Chupin’s story was ended. But he had not + time to explain how or why, for just as he was about to do so, Madame + Dodelin appeared, and announced that the young lady he expected was there. + “Let her come in!” exclaimed M. Fortunat, eagerly—“let her come in!” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite had not been compelled to resort to any subterfuge + to make her escape from Madame de Fondege’s house. The General had + decamped early in the morning to try his horses and his carriages, + announcing, moreover, that he would breakfast at the club. And as soon as + her breakfast was concluded, Madame de Fondege had hurried off to her + dressmaker’s, warning the household that she would not return before + dinner-time. A little while later, Madame Leon had suddenly remembered + that her noble relative would certainly be expecting a visit from her, and + so she dressed herself in haste, and went off, first to Dr. Jodon’s and + thence to the Marquis de Valorsay’s. + </p> + <p> + Thus, Mademoiselle Marguerite had been able to make her escape without + attracting any one’s attention, and she would be able to remain away as + many hours as she chose, since the servants would not know how long she + had been absent even if they saw her when she returned. An empty cab was + passing as she left the house, so she hailed it and got in. The step she + was about to take cost her a terrible effort. It was a difficult task for + her, a girl naturally so reserved, to confide in a stranger, and open to + him her maidenly heart, filled with love for Pascal Ferailleur! Still, she + was much calmer than she had been on the previous evening, when she called + on the photographer for a facsimile of M. de Valorsay’s letter. Several + circumstances combined to reassure her. M. Fortunat knew her already, + since he was the agent whom the Count de Chalusse had employed to carry on + the investigations which had resulted in her discovery at the foundling + asylum. A vague presentiment told her that this man was better acquainted + with her past life than she was herself, and that he could, if he chose, + tell her her mother’s name—the name of the woman whom the count so + dreaded, and who had so pitilessly deserted her. However, her heart beat + more quickly, and she felt that she was turning pale when, at Madame + Dodelin’s invitation, she at last entered M. Fortunat’s private office. + She took in the room and its occupants with a single glance. The handsome + appointments of the office surprised her, for she had expected to see a + den. The agent’s polite manner and rather elegant appearance disconcerted + her, for she had expected to meet a coarse and illiterate boor; and + finally, Victor Chupin, who was standing twisting his cap near the + fireplace, attired in a blouse and a pair of ragged trousers, fairly + alarmed her. Still, no sign of her agitation was perceptible on her + countenance. Not a muscle of her beautiful, proud face moved—her + glance remained clear and haughty, and she exclaimed in a ringing voice: + “I am the late Count de Chalusse’s ward, Mademoiselle Marguerite. You have + received my letter, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + M. Fortunat bowed with all the grace of manner he was wont to display in + the circles where he went wife-hunting, and with a somewhat pretentious + gesture he advanced an arm-chair, and asked his visitor to sit down. “Your + letter reached me, mademoiselle,” he replied, “and I was expecting you—flattered + and honored beyond expression by your confidence. My door, indeed, was + closed to any one but you.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite took the proffered seat, and there was a moment’s silence. M. + Fortunat found it difficult to believe that this beautiful, imposing young + girl could be the poor little apprentice whom he had seen in the + book-bindery, years before, clad in a coarse serge frock, with dishevelled + hair covered with scraps of paper. In the meantime, Marguerite was + regretting the necessity of confiding in this man, for the more she looked + at him, the more she was convinced that he was not an honest, + straightforward person; and she would infinitely have preferred a cynical + scoundrel to this plausible and polite gentleman, whom she strongly + suspected of being a hypocrite. She remained silent, waiting for M. + Fortunat to dismiss the young man in the blouse, whose presence she could + not explain, and who stood in a sort of mute ecstasy, staring at her with + eyes expressive of the most intense surprise and the liveliest admiration. + But weary at last of this fruitless delay, she exclaimed: “I have come, + monsieur, to confer with you respecting certain matters which require the + most profound secrecy.” + </p> + <p> + Chupin understood her, for he blushed to the tips of his ears, and started + as if to leave the room. But his employer detained him with a gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Remain, Victor,” he said kindly, and, turning to Mademoiselle Marguerite, + he added: “You have no indiscretion to fear from this worthy fellow, + mademoiselle. He knows everything, and he has already been actively at + work—and with the best result—on your behalf.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand you, sir,” replied the girl. + </p> + <p> + M. Fortunat smiled sweetly. “I have already taken your business in hand, + mademoiselle,” said he. “An hour after the receipt of your letter I began + the campaign.” + </p> + <p> + “But I had not told you——” + </p> + <p> + “What you wished of me—that’s true. But I allowed myself to suspect——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “I fancied I might conclude that you wished the help of my experience and + poor ability in clearing an innocent man who has been vilely slandered, M. + Pascal Ferailleur.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite sprang to her feet, at once agitated and alarmed. “How did you + know this?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + M. Fortunat had left his arm-chair, and was now leaning against the + mantel-shelf, in what he considered a most becoming and awe-inspiring + attitude, with his thumb in the armhole of his waistcoat. “Ah! nothing + could be more simple,” he answered, in much the same tone as a conqueror + might assume to explain his feat. “It is part of my profession to + penetrate the intentions of persons who deign to honor me with their + confidence. So my surmises are correct; at least you have not said the + contrary?” + </p> + <p> + She had said nothing. When her first surprise was over, she vainly + endeavored to find a plausible explanation of M. Fortunat’s acquaintance + with her affairs, for she was not at all deceived by his pretended + perspicacity. Meanwhile, delighted by the supposed effect he had produced, + he recklessly continued: “Reserve your amazement for what I am about to + disclose, for I have made several important discoveries. It must have been + your good angel who inspired you with the idea of coming to me. You would + have shuddered if you had realized the dangers that threatened you. But + now you have nothing to fear; I am watching. I am here, and I hold in my + hand all the threads of the abominable intrigue for ruining you. For it is + you, your person, and your fortune that are imperilled. It was solely on + your account that M. Ferailleur was attacked. And I can tell you the names + of the scoundrels who ruined him. The crime originated with the person who + had the most powerful interest in the matter—the Marquis de + Valorsay. His agent was a scoundrel who is generally known as the Viscount + de Coralth; but Chupin here can tell you his real name and his shameful + past. You preferred M. Ferailleur, hence it was necessary to put him out + of the way. M. de Chalusse had promised your hand to the Marquis de + Valorsay. This marriage was Valorsay’s only resource—the plank that + might save the drowning man. People fancy he is rich; but he is ruined. + Yes, ruined completely, irretrievably. He was in such desperate straits + that he had almost determined to blow his brains out before the hope of + marrying you entered his mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” thought Chupin, “my employer is well under way.” + </p> + <p> + This was indeed the case. The name of Valorsay was quite sufficient to set + all M. Fortunat’s bile in motion. All thought of his ex-client irritated + him beyond endurance. Unfortunately for him, however, his anger in the + present instance had ruined his plans. He had intended to take + Mademoiselle Marguerite by surprise, to work upon her imagination, to make + her talk without saying anything himself, and to remain master of the + situation. But on the contrary he had revealed everything; and he did not + discover this until it was too late to retrieve his blunder. “How the + Marquis de Valorsay has kept his head above water is a wonder to me,” he + continued. “His creditors have been threatening to sue him for more than + six months. How he has been able to keep them quiet since M. de Chalusse’s + death, I cannot understand. However, this much is certain, mademoiselle: + the marquis has not renounced his intention of becoming your husband; and + to attain that object he won’t hesitate to employ any means that may + promise to prove effectual.” + </p> + <p> + Completely mistress of herself, Mademoiselle Marguerite listened with an + impassive face. “I know all this,” she replied, in a frigid tone. + </p> + <p> + “What! you know——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but there is one thing that baffles my powers of comprehension. My + dowry was the only temptation to M. de Valorsay, was it not? Why does he + still wish to marry me, now that I have no fortune?” + </p> + <p> + M. Fortunat had gradually lost all his advantage. “I have asked myself the + same question,” he replied, “and I think I have found an answer. I believe + that the marquis has in his possession a letter, or a will, or a document + of some sort, written by M. de Chalusse—in fact an instrument in + which the count acknowledges you as his daughter, and which consequently + establishes; your right to his property.” + </p> + <p> + “And the marquis could urge this claim if he became my husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly he could.” + </p> + <p> + M. Fortunat explained M. de Valorsay’s conduct exactly as the old + magistrate had done. However, Mademoiselle Marguerite discreetly refrained + from committing herself. The great interest that M. Fortunat seemed to + take in her affairs aroused her distrust; and she decided to do what he + had attempted in vain—that is, allow him to do all the talking, and + to conceal all that she knew herself. “Perhaps you are right,” she + remarked, “but it is necessary to prove the truth of your assertion.” + </p> + <p> + “I can prove that Valorsay hasn’t a shilling, and that he has lived for a + year by expedients which render him liable to arrest and prosecution at + any time. I can prove that he deceived M. de Chalusse as to his financial + position. I can prove that he conspired with M. de Coralth to ruin your + lover. Wouldn’t this be something?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled in a way that was exceedingly irritating to his vanity, and in + a tone of good-natured incredulity, she remarked: “It is easy to SAY these + things.” + </p> + <p> + “And to do them,” rejoined M. Fortunat, quickly. “I never promise what I + cannot perform. A man should never touch a pen when he is meditating any + evil act. Of course, no one is fool enough to write down his infamy in + detail. But a man cannot always be on the qui vive. There will be a word + in one letter, a sentence in another, an allusion in a third. And by + combining these words, phrases, and allusions, one may finally discover + the truth.” + </p> + <p> + He suddenly checked himself, warned of his fresh imprudence by the + expression on Mademoiselle Marguerite’s face. She drew back, and looking + him full in the eyes, she exclaimed: “Then you have been in M. de + Valorsay’s confidence, sir? Would you be willing to swear that you never + helped him in his designs?” + </p> + <p> + A silent and ignored witness of this scene, Victor Chupin was secretly + delighted. “Hit!” he thought—“hit just in the bull’s-eye. Zounds! + there’s a woman for you! She has beaten the guv’nor on every point.” + </p> + <p> + M. Fortunat was so taken by surprise that he made no attempt to deny his + guilt. “I confess that I acted as M. de Valorsay’s adviser for some time,” + he replied, “and he frequently spoke to me of his intention of marrying a + rich wife in order to retrieve his shattered fortunes. Upon my word, I see + nothing so very bad about that! It is not a strictly honest proceeding, + perhaps, but it is done every day. What is marriage in this age? Merely a + business transaction, is it not? Perhaps it would be more correct to say + that it is a transaction in which one person tries to cheat the other. The + fathers-in-law are deceived, or the husband, or the wife, and sometimes + all of them together. But when I discovered this scheme for mining M. + Ferailleur, I cried ‘halt!’ My conscience revolted at that. Dishonor an + innocent man! It was base, cowardly, outrageous! And not being able to + prevent this infamous act, I swore that I would avenge it.” + </p> + <p> + Would Mademoiselle Marguerite accept this explanation? Chupin feared so, + and accordingly turning quickly to his employer, he remarked: “To say + nothing of the fact that this fine gentleman has swindled you + outrageously, shrewd as you are—cheating you out of the forty + thousand francs you lent him, and which he was to pay you eighty thousand + for.” + </p> + <p> + M. Fortunat cast a withering look at his clerk, but the mischief was done: + denial was useless. He seemed fated to blunder in this affair. “Well, + yes,” he declared, “it’s true. Valorsay HAS defrauded me, and I have sworn + to have my revenge. I won’t rest until I see him ruined.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite was partially reassured, for she understood his + zeal now. Her scorn for the man was only increased; but she was convinced + that he would serve her faithfully. “I like this much better,” said she. + “It is better to have no concealment. You desire M. de Valorsay’s ruin. I + desire the rehabilitation of M. Ferailleur. So our interests are in + common. But before acting in this matter, we must know M. Ferailleur’s + wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “They cannot be considered.” + </p> + <p> + “And why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because no one knows what has become of him. When the desire for revenge + first took possession of me, I at once thought of him. I procured his + address, and went to the Rue d’Ulm. But he had gone away. The very day + after his misfortune, M. Ferailleur sold his furniture and went away with + his mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I am aware of that, and I have come to ask you to search for him. To + discover his hiding-place will be only child’s play to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose I haven’t thought of this?” replied M. Fortunat. “Why, I + spent all day yesterday searching for him. By questioning the people in + the neighborhood I finally succeeded in ascertaining that Madame + Ferailleur left her home in a cab several hours after her son, and took a + very large quantity of baggage with her. Well, do you know where she + drove? To the Western railway station. I am sure of this, and I know she + told a porter there that her destination was London. M. Ferailleur is now + en route for America, and we shall never hear of him again!” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite shook her head. “You are mistaken, sir,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “There can be no mistake about what I have just told you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t question the result of your investigations, but appearances are + deceitful. I thoroughly understand M. Ferailleur’s character, and he is + not the man to be crushed by an infamous calumny. He may seem to fly, he + may disappear, he may conceal himself for a time, but it is only to make + his vengeance more certain. What! Pascal, who is energy itself, who + possesses an iron will, and invincible determination, would he renounce + his honor, his future, and the woman he loves without a struggle? If he + had felt that his case was hopeless, he would have destroyed himself, and + as he has not done so, he is not without hope. He has not left Paris; I am + sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + M. Fortunat was not convinced. In his opinion this was only sentiment and + rubbish. Still there was one person present who was deeply impressed by + the confidence of this young girl, who was the most beautiful creature he + had ever seen, and whose devotion and energy filled his heart with + admiration, and this person was Chupin. He stepped forward with his eyes + sparkling with enthusiasm, and in a feeling voice he exclaimed: “I + understand your idea! Yes, M. Ferailleur is in Paris. And I shall be + unworthy of the name of Chupin, if I don’t find him for you in less than a + fortnight!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. + </h2> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite knew Pascal Ferailleur. Suddenly struck down in + the full sunlight of happiness by a terrible misfortune, he, of course, + experienced moments of frenzy and terrible depression; but he was + incapable of the cowardice which M. Fortunat had accused him of. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite only did him justice when she said that the sole + condition on which he could consent to live was that of consecrating his + life, and all his strength, intelligence and will to confounding this + infamous calumny. And still she did not know the extent of Pascal’s + misfortune. How could she suppose that he believed himself deserted by + her? How could she know the doubts and fears and the anguish that had been + roused in his heart by the note which Madame Leon had given him at the + garden gate? What did she know of the poignant suspicions that had rent + his mind, after listening to Madame Vantrasson’s disparaging insinuations? + </p> + <p> + It must be admitted that he was indebted to his mother alone for his + escape from suicide—that grim madness that seizes hold of so many + desperate, despairing men. And it was still to his mother—the + incomparable guardian of his honor—that he owed his resolution on + the morning he applied to Baron Trigault. And his courage met with its + first reward. + </p> + <p> + He was no longer the same man when he left the princely mansion which he + had entered with his heart so full of anguish. He was still somewhat + bewildered with the strange scenes which he had involuntarily witnessed, + the secrets he had overheard, and the revelations which had been made to + him; but a light gleamed on the horizon—a fitful and uncertain + light, it is true, but nevertheless a hopeful gleam. At least, he would no + longer have to struggle alone. An honest and experienced man, powerful by + reason of his reputation, his connections and his fortune, had promised + him his help. Thanks to this man whom misfortune had made a truer friend + than years could have done, he would have access to the wretch who had + deprived him both of his honor and of the woman he loved. He knew the weak + spot in the marquis’s armor now; he knew where and how to strike, and he + felt sure that he should succeed in winning Valorsay’s confidence, and in + obtaining irrefutable proofs of his villainy. + </p> + <p> + Pascal was eager to inform his mother of the fortunate result of his + visit, but certain arrangements which were needful for the success of his + plans required his attention, and it was nearly five o’clock when he + reached the Route de la Revolte. Madame Ferailleur was just returning home + when he arrived, which surprised him considerably, for he had not known + that she had intended going out. The cab she had used was still standing + before the door, and she had not had time to take off her shawl and bonnet + when he entered the house. She uttered a joyful cry on perceiving her son. + She was so accustomed to read his secret thoughts on his face, that it was + unnecessary for him to say a word; before he had even opened his lips, she + cried: “So you have succeeded?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother, beyond my hopes.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not deceived, then, in the worthy man who came to offer us his + assistance?” + </p> + <p> + “No, certainly not. Do what I may, I can never repay him for his + generosity and self-denial. If you knew, my dear mother, if you only knew——” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + He kissed her as if he wished to apologize for what he was about to say, + and then he quickly replied: “Marguerite is the daughter of Baroness + Trigault.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Ferailleur started back, as if she had seen a reptile spring up in + her pathway. “The daughter of the baroness!” she faltered. “Great + Heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “It is the truth, mother; listen to me.” And in a voice that trembled with + emotion, he rapidly related all he had learned by his visit to the baron, + softening the truth as much as he could without concealing it. But + prevarication was useless. Madame Ferailleur’s indignation and disgust + were none the less evident. “That woman is a shameless creature,” she + said, coldly, when her son’s narrative was concluded. + </p> + <p> + Pascal made no reply. He knew only too well that his mother was right, and + yet it wounded him cruelly to hear her speak in this style. For the + baroness was Marguerite’s mother after all. + </p> + <p> + “So,” continued Madame Ferailleur, with increasing indignation, “creatures + do exist who are destitute even of the maternal instincts of animals. I am + an honest woman myself; I don’t say it in self-glorification, it’s no + credit to me; my mother was a saint, and I loved my husband; what some + people call duty was my happiness, so I may be allowed to speak on this + subject. I don’t excuse infidelity, but I can understand how such a thing + is possible. Yes, I can understand how a beautiful young woman, who is + left alone in a city like Paris, may lose her senses, and forget the + worthy man who has exiled himself for her sake, and who is braving a + thousand dangers to win a fortune for her. The husband who exposes his + honor and happiness to such terrible risk, is an imprudent man. But when + this woman has erred, when she has given birth to a child, how she can + abandon it, how she can cast it off as if it were a dog, I cannot + comprehend. I could imagine infanticide more easily. No, such a woman has + no heart, no bowels of compassion. There is nothing human in her! For how + could she live, how could she sleep with the thought that somewhere in the + world her own child, the flesh of her flesh, was exposed to all the + temptations of poverty, and the horrors of shame and vice? And she, the + possessor of millions, she, the inmate of a palace, thinking only of dress + and pleasure! How was it that she didn’t ask herself every minute, ‘Where + is my daughter now, and what is she doing? What is she living on? Has she + shelter, clothes and food? To what depths of degradation she may have + sunk? Perhaps she has so far lived by honest toil, and perhaps at this + very moment this support fails her, and she is abandoning herself to a + life of infamy.’ Great God! how does this woman dare to step out of doors? + On seeing the poor wretches who have been driven to vice by want, how can + she fail to say to herself: ‘That, perhaps, is my daughter!’” + </p> + <p> + Pascal turned pale, moved to the depths of his soul by his mother’s + extraordinary vehemence. He trembled lest she should say: “And you, my + son, would you marry the child of such a mother?” For he knew his mother’s + prejudices, and the great importance she attached to a spotless reputation + transmitted from parent to child, from generation to generation. “The + baroness knew that her husband adored her, and hearing of his return she + became terrified; she lost her senses,” he ventured to say in extenuation. + </p> + <p> + “Would you try to defend her?” exclaimed Madame Ferailleur. “Do you really + think one can atone for a fault by a crime?” + </p> + <p> + “No, certainly not, but——” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you would censure the baroness more severely if you knew what her + daughter has suffered—if you knew the perils and miseries she has + been exposed to from the moment her mother left her on a door-step, near + the central markets, till the day when her father found her. It is a + miracle that she did not perish.” + </p> + <p> + Where had Madame Ferailleur learned these particulars? Pascal asked + himself this question without being able to answer it. “I don’t understand + you, mother,” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Then you know nothing of Mademoiselle Marguerite’s past life. Is it + possible she never told you anything about it?” + </p> + <p> + “I only know that she has been very unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she never alluded to the time when she was an apprentice?” + </p> + <p> + “She has only told me that she earned her living with her own hands at one + time of her life.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am better informed on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal’s amazement was changed to terror. “You, mother, you!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I—I have been to the asylum where she was received and + educated. I have had a conversation with two Sisters of Charity who + remember her, and it is scarcely an hour since I left the people to whom + she was formerly bound as an apprentice.” + </p> + <p> + Standing opposite his mother with one hand convulsively clutching the back + of the chair he was leaning on, Pascal tried to nerve himself for some + terrible blow. For was not his life at stake? Did not his whole future + depend upon the revelations Madame Ferailleur was about to make? “So this + was your object in going out, mother?” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And you went without warning me?” + </p> + <p> + “Was it necessary? What! you love a young girl, you swear in my presence + that she shall be your wife, and you think it strange that I should try to + ascertain whether she is worthy of you or not? It would be very strange if + I did not do so.” + </p> + <p> + “This idea occurred to you so suddenly!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Ferailleur gave an almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders, as + if she were astonished to have to answer such puerile objections. “Have + you already forgotten the disparaging remarks made by our new servant, + Madame Vantrasson?” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “I understood her base insinuations as well as you did, and after your + departure I questioned her, or rather I allowed her to tell her story, and + I ascertained that Mademoiselle Marguerite had once been an apprentice of + Vantrasson’s brother-in-law, a man named Greloux, who was formerly a + bookbinder in the Rue Saint-Denis, but who has now retired from business. + It was there that Vantrasson met Mademoiselle Marguerite, and this is why + he was so greatly surprised to see her doing the mistress at the Hotel de + Chalusse.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Pascal that the throbbing of his heart stopped his breath. + </p> + <p> + “By a little tact I obtained the Greloux’s address from Madame + Vantrasson,” resumed his mother. “Then I sent for a cab and drove there at + once.” + </p> + <p> + “And you saw them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; thanks to a falsehood which doesn’t trouble my conscience much, I + succeeded in effecting an entrance, and had an hour’s conversation with + them.” His mother’s icy tones frightened Pascal. Her slowness tortured + him, and still he dared not press her. “The Greloux family,” she + continued, “seem to be what are called worthy people, that is, incapable + of committing any crime that is punishable by the code, and very proud of + their income of seven thousand francs a year. They must have been very + much attached to Mademoiselle Marguerite, for they were lavish in their + protestations of affection when I mentioned her name. The husband in + particular seemed to regard her with a feeling of something like + gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you see, mother, you see!” + </p> + <p> + “As for the wife, it was easy to see that she had sincerely regretted the + loss of the best apprentice, the most honest servant, and the best worker + she had ever seen in her life. And yet, from her own story, I should be + willing to swear that she had abused the poor child, and had made a slave + of her.” Tears glittered in Pascal’s eyes, but he breathed freely once + more. “As for Vantrasson,” resumed Madame Ferailleur, “it is certain that + he took a violent fancy to his sister’s apprentice. This man, who has + since become an infamous scoundrel, was then only a rake, an unprincipled + drunkard and libertine. He fancied the poor little apprentice—she + was then but thirteen years old—would be only too glad to become the + mistress of her employer’s brother; but she scornfully repulsed him, and + his vanity was so deeply wounded that he persecuted the poor girl to such + an extent that she was obliged to complain, first to Madame Greloux, who—to + her shame be it said—treated these insults as mere nonsense; and + afterward to Greloux himself, who was probably delighted to have an + opportunity of ridding himself of his indolent brother-in-law, for he + turned him out of the house.” + </p> + <p> + The thought that so vile a rascal as this man Vantrasson should have dared + to insult Marguerite made Pascal frantic with indignation. “The wretch!” + he exclaimed; “the wretch!” But without seeming to notice her son’s anger, + Madame Ferailleur continued: “They pretended they had not seen their + former apprentice since she had been living in grandeur, as they expressed + it. But in this they lied to me. For they saw her at least once, and that + was on the day she brought them twenty thousand francs, which proved the + nucleus of their fortune. They did not mention this fact, however.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Marguerite!” murmured Pascal, “dear Marguerite!” And then aloud: + “But where did you learn these last details, mother?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “At the asylum where Mademoiselle Marguerite was brought up, and there, + too, I only heard words of praise. ‘Never,’ said the superior, ‘have I had + a more gifted, sweeter-tempered or more attractive charge.’ They had + reproached her sometimes for being too reserved, and her self-respect had + often been mistaken for inordinate pride; but she had not forgotten the + asylum any more than she had forgotten her former patrons. On one occasion + the superior received from her the sum of twenty-five thousand francs, and + a year ago she presented the institution with one hundred thousand francs, + the yearly income of which is to constitute the marriage dowry of some + deserving orphan.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal was greatly elated. “Well, mother!” he exclaimed, “well, is it + strange that I love her?” Madame Ferailleur made no reply, and a sorrowful + apprehension seized hold of him. “You are silent,” said he, “and why? When + the blessed day that will allow me to wed Marguerite arrives, you surely + won’t oppose our marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my son, nothing that I have learned gives me the right to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “The right! Ah, you are unjust, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Unjust! Haven’t I faithfully reported all that was told me, although I + knew it would only increase your passion?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true, but——” + </p> + <p> + Madame Ferailleur sadly shook her head. “Do you think,” she interrupted, + “that I can, without sorrow, see you choose a girl of no family, a girl + who is outside the pale of social recognition? Don’t you understand my + disquietude when I think that the girl that you will marry is the daughter + of such a woman as Baroness Trigault, an unfortunate girl whom her mother + cannot even recognize, since her mother is a married woman——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! mother, is that Marguerite’s fault?” + </p> + <p> + “Did I say it was her fault? No—I only pray God that you may never + have to repent of choosing a wife whose past life must ever remain an + impenetrable mystery!” + </p> + <p> + Pascal had become very pale. “Mother!” he said in a quivering voice, + “mother!” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that you will only know so much of Mademoiselle Marguerite’s past + life as she may choose to tell you,” continued the obdurate old lady. “You + heard Madame Vantrasson’s ignoble allegations. It has been said that she + was the mistress, not the daughter, of the Count de Chalusse. Who knows + what vile accusations you may be forced to meet? And what is your refuge, + if doubts should ever assail you? Mademoiselle Marguerite’s word! Will + this be sufficient? It is now, perhaps; but will it suffice in years to + come? I would have my son’s wife above suspicion; and she—why, there + is not a single episode in her life that does not expose her to the most + atrocious calumny.” + </p> + <p> + “What does calumny matter? it will never shake my faith in her. The + misfortunes which you reproach Marguerite for sanctify her in my eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Pascal!” + </p> + <p> + “What! Am I to scorn her because she has been unfortunate? Am I to regard + her birth as a crime? Am I to despise her because her MOTHER is a + despicable woman? No—God be praised! the day when illegitimate + children, the innocent victims of their mother’s faults, were branded as + outcasts, is past.” + </p> + <p> + But Madame Ferailleur’s prejudices were too deeply rooted to be shaken by + these arguments. “I won’t discuss this question, my son,” she interrupted, + “but take care. By declaring children irresponsible for their mother’s + faults, you will break the strongest tie that binds a woman to duty. If + the son of a pure and virtuous wife, and the son of an adulterous woman + meet upon equal ground, those who are held in check only by the thought of + their children will finally say to themselves, what does it matter?” + </p> + <p> + It was the first time that a cloud had ever arisen between mother and son. + On hearing his dearest hopes thus attacked, Pascal was tempted to rebel, + and a flood of bitter words rose to his lips. However he had strength + enough to control himself. “Marguerite alone can triumph over these + implacable prejudices,” he thought; “when my mother knows her, she will + feel how unjust they are!” + </p> + <p> + And as he found it difficult to remain master of himself, he stammered + some excuse, and abruptly retired to his own room, where he threw himself + on his bed. He felt that it was not his place to reproach his mother or + censure her for her opinions. What mother had ever been so devoted as she + had been? And who knows?—it was, perhaps, from these same rigid + prejudices that this simple-minded and heroic woman had derived her + energy, her enthusiastic love of God, her hatred of evil, and that + virility of spirit which misfortune had been powerless to daunt. Besides, + had she not promised to offer no opposition to his marriage! And was not + this a great concession, a sacrifice which must have cost her a severe + struggle? And where can one find the mother who does not count as one of + the sublime joys of maternity the task of seeking a wife for her son, of + choosing from among all others the young girl who will be the companion of + his life, the angel of his dark and of his prosperous days? His mind was + occupied with these thoughts when his door suddenly opened, and he sprang + up, exclaiming: “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + It was Madame Vantrasson, who came to announce that dinner was ready—a + dinner which she had herself prepared, for on going out Madame Ferailleur + had left her in charge of the household. On seeing this woman, Pascal was + overcome with rage and indignation, and felt a wild desire to annihilate + her. He knew that she was only a vile slanderer, but she might meet other + beings as vile as herself who would be only too glad to believe her + falsehoods. And to think that he was powerless to punish her! He now + realized the suffering his mother had spoken of—the most atrocious + suffering which the lover can endure—powerlessness to protect the + object of his affections, when she is assailed. Engrossed in these gloomy + thoughts, Pascal preserved a sullen silence during the repast. He ate + because his mother filled his plate; but if he had been questioned, he + could scarcely have told what he was eating. And yet, the modest dinner + was excellent. Madame Vantrasson was really a good cook, and in this first + effort in her new situation she had surpassed herself. Her vanity as a + cordon-bleu was piqued because she did not receive the compliments she + expected, and which she felt she deserved. Four or five times she asked + impatiently, “Isn’t that good?” and as the only reply was a scarcely + enthusiastic “Very good,” she vowed she would never again waste so much + care and talent upon such unappreciative people. + </p> + <p> + Madame Ferailleur was as silent as her son, and seemed equally anxious to + finish with the repast. She evidently wanted to get rid of Madame + Vantrasson, and in fact as soon as the simple dessert had been placed on + the table, she turned to her, and said: “You may go home now. I will + attend to the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Irritated by the taciturnity of these strange folks, the landlady of the + Model Lodging House withdrew, and they soon heard the street door close + behind her with a loud bang as she left the house. Pascal drew a long + breath as if relieved of a heavy weight. While Madame Vantrasson had been + in the room he had scarcely dared to raise his eyes, so great was his + dread of encountering the gaze of this woman, whose malignity was but + poorly veiled by her smooth-tongued hypocrisy. He really feared he should + not be able to resist his desire to strangle her. However, Madame + Ferailleur must have understood her son’s agitation, for as soon as they + were alone, she said: “So you have not forgiven me for my plain speaking?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I be angry with you, mother, when I know that you are thinking + only of my happiness? But how sorry I shall be if your prejudices——” + </p> + <p> + Madame Ferailleur checked him with a gesture. “Let us say no more on the + subject,” she remarked. “Mademoiselle Marguerite will be the innocent + cause of one of the greatest disappointments of my life; but I have no + reason to hate her—and I have always been able to show justice even + to the persons I loved the least. I have done so in this instance, and I + am going perhaps to give you a convincing proof of it.” + </p> + <p> + “A proof?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + She reflected for a moment and then she asked: “Did you not tell me, my + son, that Mademoiselle Marguerite’s education has not suffered on account + of her neglected childhood?” + </p> + <p> + “And it’s quite true, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “She worked diligently, you said, so as to improve herself?” + </p> + <p> + “Marguerite knows all that an unusually talented girl can learn in four + years, when she finds herself very unhappy, and study proves her only + refuge and consolation.” + </p> + <p> + “If she wrote you a note would it be written grammatically, and be free + from any mistakes in spelling?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly!” exclaimed Pascal, and a sudden inspiration made him pause + abruptly. He darted to his own room, and a minute later he returned with a + package of letters, which he laid on the table, saying: “Here, mother, + read and see for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Ferailleur drew her spectacles from their case, and, after + adjusting them, she began to read. + </p> + <p> + With his elbows on the table, and his head resting upon his hands, Pascal + eagerly watched his mother, anxious to read her impressions on her face. + She was evidently astonished. She had not expected these letters would + express such nobility of sentiment, an energy no whit inferior to her own, + and even an echo of her own prejudices. For this strange young girl shared + Madame Ferailleur’s rather bigoted opinions. Again and again she asked + herself if her birth and past had not created an impassable abyss between + Pascal and herself. And she had not felt satisfied on this point until the + day when the gray-haired magistrate, after hearing her story, said: “If I + had a son, I should be proud to have him beloved by you!” + </p> + <p> + It soon became apparent that Madame Ferailleur was deeply moved, and once + she even raised her glasses to wipe away a furtive tear which made + Pascal’s heart leap with very joy. “These letters are admirable,” she said + at last; “and no young girl, reared by a virtuous mother, could have given + better expression to nobler sentiments; but——” She paused, not + wishing to wound her son’s feelings, and as he insisted, she added: + </p> + <p> + “But, these letters have the irreparable fault of being addressed to you, + Pascal!” + </p> + <p> + This, however, was the expiring cry of her intractable obstinacy. “Now,” + she resumed, “wait before you censure your mother.” So saying, she rose, + opened a drawer, and taking from it a torn and crumpled scrap of paper, + she handed it to her son, exclaiming: “Read this attentively.” + </p> + <p> + This proved to be the note in pencil which Madame Leon had given to + Pascal, and which he had divined rather than read by the light of the + street-lamp; he had handed it to his mother on his return, and she had + kept it. He had scarcely been in his right mind the evening he received + it, but now he was enjoying the free exercise of all his faculties. He no + sooner glanced at the note than he sprang up, and in an excited voice, + exclaimed, “Marguerite never wrote this!” + </p> + <p> + The strange discovery seemed to stupefy him. “I was mad, raving mad!” he + muttered. “The fraud is palpable, unmistakable. How could I have failed to + discover it?” And as if he felt the need of convincing himself that he was + not deceived, he continued, speaking to himself rather than to his mother: + “The hand-writing is not unlike Marguerite’s, it’s true; but it’s only a + clever counterfeit. And who doesn’t know that all writings in pencil + resemble each other more or less? Besides, it’s certain that Marguerite, + who is simplicity itself, would not have made use of such pretentious + melodramatic phrases. How could I have been so stupid as to believe that + she ever thought or wrote this: ‘One cannot break a promise made to the + dying; I shall keep mine even though my heart break.’ And again: ‘Forget, + therefore, the girl who has loved you so much: she is now the betrothed of + another, and honor requires she should forget even your name!’” He read + these passages with an extravagant emphasis, which heightened their + absurdity. “And what shall I say of these mistakes in spelling?” he + resumed. “You noticed them, of course, mother?—command is written + with a single ‘m,’ and supplicate with one ‘p.’ These are certainly not + mistakes that we can attribute to haste! Ignorance is proved since the + blunder is always the same. The forger is evidently in the habit of + omitting one of the double letters.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Ferailleur listened with an impassive face. “And these mistakes are + all the more inexcusable since this letter is only a copy,” she observed, + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; a verbatim copy. Yesterday evening, while I was examining it for the + twentieth time, it occurred to me that I had read some portions of it + before. Where, and under what circumstances? It was a puzzle which kept me + awake most of the night. But this morning I suddenly remembered a book + which I had seen in the hands of the workmen at the factory, and which I + had often laughed over. So, while I was out this morning I entered a + book-shop, and purchased the volume. That’s it, there on the corner of the + mantel-shelf. Take it and see.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal obeyed, and noticed with surprise that the work was entitled, “The + Indispensable and Complete Letter-writer, for Both Sexes, in Every + Condition of Life.” + </p> + <p> + “Now turn to the page I have marked,” said Madame Ferailleur. + </p> + <p> + He did so, and read: “(Model 198). Letter from a young lady who has + promised her dying father to renounce the man she loves, and to bestow her + hand upon another.” Doubt was no longer possible. Line for line and word + for word, the mistakes in spelling excepted, the note was an exact copy of + the stilted prose of the “Indispensable Letter-writer.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Pascal as if the scales had suddenly fallen from his eyes, + and that he could now understand the whole intrigue which had been planned + to separate him from Marguerite. His enemies had dishonored him in the + hope that she would reject and scorn him, and, disappointed in their + expectations, they had planned this pretended rupture of the engagement to + prevent him from making any attempt at self-justification. So, in spite of + some short-lived doubts, his love had been more clear-sighted than reason, + and stronger than appearances. He had been quite right, then, in saying to + his mother: “I can never believe that Marguerite deserts me at a moment + when I am so wretched—that she condemns me unheard, and has no + greater confidence in me than in my accusers. Appearances may indicate the + contrary, but I am right.” Certain circumstances, which had previously + seemed contradictory, now strengthened this belief. “How is it,” he said + to himself, “that Marguerite writes to me that her father, on his + death-bed, made her promise to renounce me, while Valorsay declares the + Count de Chalusse died so suddenly, that he had not even time to + acknowledge his daughter or to bequeath her his immense fortune? One of + these stories must be false; and which of them? The one in this note most + probably. As for the letter itself, it must have been the work of Madame + Leon.” + </p> + <p> + If he had not already possessed irrefutable proofs of this, the + “Indispensable Letter-writer” would have shown it. The housekeeper’s + perturbation when she met him at the garden gate was now explained. She + was shuddering at the thought that she might be followed and watched, and + that Marguerite might appear at any moment, and discover everything. + </p> + <p> + “I think it would be a good plan to let this poor young girl know that her + companion is Valorsay’s spy,” remarked Madame Ferailleur. + </p> + <p> + Pascal was about to approve this suggestion, when a sudden thought + deterred him. “They must be watching Marguerite very closely,” he replied, + “and if I attempt to see her, if I even venture to write to her, our + enemies would undoubtedly discover it. And then, farewell to the success + of my plans.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you prefer to leave her exposed to these dangers?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, even admitting there is danger, which is by no means certain. Owing + to her past life, Marguerite’s experience is far in advance of her years, + and if some one told me that she had fathomed Madame Leon’s character, I + should not be at all surprised.” + </p> + <p> + It was necessary to ascertain what had become of Marguerite; and Pascal + was puzzling his brain to discover how this might be done, when suddenly + he exclaimed: “Madame Vantrasson! We have her; let us make use of her. It + will be easy to find some excuse for sending her to the Hotel de Chalusse: + she will gossip with the servants there, and in that way we can discover + the changes that have taken place.” + </p> + <p> + This was a heroic resolution on Pascal’s part, and one which he would have + recoiled from the evening before. But it is easy to be brave when one is + hopeful; and he saw his chances of success increase so rapidly that he no + longer feared the obstacles that had once seemed almost insurmountable. + Even his mother’s opposition had ceased to alarm him. For why should he + fear after the surprising proof she had given him of her love of justice, + proving that the pretended letter from Mademoiselle Marguerite was really + a forgery? + </p> + <p> + He slept but little that night and did not stir from the house on the + following day. He was busily engaged in perfecting his plan of attack + against the marquis. His advantages were considerable, thanks to Baron + Trigault, who had placed a hundred thousand francs at his disposal; but + the essential point was to use this amount in such a way as to win + Valorsay’s confidence, and induce him to betray himself. Pascal’s hours of + meditation were not spent in vain, and when it became time for him to + repair to his enemy’s house, he said to his mother: “I’ve found a plan; + and if the baron will let me follow it out, Valorsay is mine!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. + </h2> + <p> + It was pure childishness on Pascal’s part to doubt Baron Trigault’s + willingness to agree even with closed eyes to any measures he might + propose. He ought to have recollected that their interests were identical, + that they hated the same men with equal hatred, and that they were equally + resolved upon vengeance. And certainly the events which had occurred since + their last interview had not been of a nature to modify the baron’s + intentions. However, misfortune had rendered Pascal timid and suspicious, + and it was not until he reached the baron’s house that his fears vanished. + The manner in which the servants received him proved that the baron + greatly esteemed him: for the man must be stupid indeed who does not know + that the greeting of the servants is ever in harmony with the feelings of + the master of the house. “Will you be kind enough to follow me?” said the + servant to whom he handed his card. “The baron is very busy, but that + doesn’t matter. He gave orders that monsieur should be shown up as soon as + he arrived.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal followed without a word. The elegance of this princely abode never + varied. The same careless, prodigal, regal luxury was apparent everywhere. + The servants—whose name was legion—were always passing + noiselessly to and fro. A pair of horses, worth at least a thousand louis, + and harnessed to the baroness’s brougham, were stamping and neighing in + the courtyard; and the hall was, as usual, fragrant with the perfume of + rare flowers, renewed every morning. + </p> + <p> + On his first visit Pascal had only seen the apartments on the ground + floor. This time his guide remarked that he would take him upstairs to the + baron’s private room. He was slowly ascending the broad marble staircase + and admiring the bronze balustrade, the rich carpet, the magnificent + frescoes, and the costly statuary, when a rustle of silk resounded near + him. He had only time to step aside, and a lady passed him rapidly, + without turning her head, or even deigning to look at him. She did not + appear more than forty, and she was still very beautiful, with her golden + hair dressed high on the back of her head. Her costume, brilliant enough + in hue to frighten a cab horse, was extremely eccentric in cut; but it + certainly set off her peculiar style of beauty to admirable advantage. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the baroness,” whispered the servant, after she had passed. + </p> + <p> + Pascal did not need to be told this. He had seen her but once, and then + only for a second; but it had been under such circumstances that he should + never forget her so long as he lived. And now he understood the strange + and terrible impression which had been produced upon him when he saw her + first. Mademoiselle Marguerite was the living prototype of this lady, save + as regards the color of her hair. And there would have been no difference + in this respect had the baroness allowed her locks to retain their natural + tint. Her hair had been black, like Marguerite’s, and black it had + remained until she was thirty-five, when she bleached it to the + fashionable color of the time. And every fourth day even now her + hairdresser came to apply a certain compound to her head, after which she + remained in the bright sunlight for several hours, so as to impart a + livelier shade of gold to her dyed locks. + </p> + <p> + Pascal had scarcely regained his composure, when the servant opened the + door of an immense apartment as large as a handsome suite of rooms, and + magnificently furnished. Here sat the baron, surrounded by several clerks, + who were busily engaged in putting a pile of papers and documents in + order. + </p> + <p> + But as soon as Pascal entered, the baron rose, and cordially holding out + his hand, exclaimed, “Ah! here you are at last, Monsieur Maumejan!” + </p> + <p> + So he had not forgotten the name which Pascal had assumed. This was a + favorable omen. “I called, monsieur——” began the young man. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I know—I know!” interrupted the baron. “Come, we must + have a talk.” + </p> + <p> + And, taking Pascal’s arm, he led him into his private sanctum, separated + from the large apartment by folding-doors, which had been removed, and + replaced by hangings. Once there he indicated by a gesture that they could + be heard in the adjoining room, and that it was necessary to speak in a + low tone. “You have no doubt come,” said he, “for the money I promised + that dear Marquis de Valorsay—I have it all ready for you; here it + is.” So saying, he opened an escritoire, and took out a large roll of + bank-notes, which he handed to Pascal. “Here, count it,” he added, “and + see if the amount is correct.” + </p> + <p> + But Pascal, whose face had suddenly become as red as fire, did not utter a + word in reply. On receiving this money a new but quite natural thought had + entered his mind for the first time. “What is the matter?” inquired the + baron, surprised by this sudden embarrassment. “What has happened to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, monsieur, nothing! Only I was asking myself—if I ought—if + I can accept this money.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! and why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because if you lend it to M. de Valorsay, it is perhaps lost.” + </p> + <p> + “PERHAPS! You are polite——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur, you are right. I ought to have said that it is sure to be + lost; and hence my embarrassment. Is it not solely on my account that you + sacrifice a sum which would be a fortune to many men? Yes. Very well, + then. I am asking myself if it is right for me to accept such a sacrifice, + when it is by no means certain that I shall ever be able to requite it. + Shall I ever have a hundred thousand francs to repay you?” + </p> + <p> + “But isn’t this money absolutely necessary to enable you to win Valorsay’s + confidence?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and if it belonged to me I should not hesitate.” + </p> + <p> + Though the baron had formed a high estimate of Pascal’s character, he was + astonished and deeply touched by these scruples, and this excessive + delicacy of feeling. Like most opulent men, he knew few poor people who + wore their poverty with grace and dignity, and who did not snatch at a + twenty-franc piece wherever they chanced to find it. “Ah, well, my dear + Ferailleur,” he said, kindly, “don’t trouble yourself on this score. It’s + not at your request nor solely on your account that I make this + sacrifice.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “No; I give you my word of honor it isn’t. Leaving you quite out of the + question, I should still have lent Valorsay this money; and if you do not + wish to take it to him, I shall send it by some one else.” + </p> + <p> + After that, Pascal could not demur any further. He took the baron’s + proffered hand and pressed it warmly, uttering only this one word, made + more eloquent than any protestations by the fervor with which it was + spoken: “Thanks!” + </p> + <p> + The baron shrugged his shoulders good-naturedly, like a man who fails to + see that he has done anything at all meritorious, or even worthy of the + slightest acknowledgment. “And you must understand, my dear sir,” he + resumed, “that you can employ this sum as you choose, in advancing your + interests, which are identical with mine. You can give the money to + Valorsay at such a time and under such conditions as will best serve your + plans. Give it to him in an hour or in a month, all at once or in fifty + different instalments, as you please. Only use it like the rope one ties + round a dog’s neck before drowning him.” + </p> + <p> + The keenest penetration was concealed beneath the baron’s careless + good-nature. Pascal knew this, and feeling that his protector understood + him, he said: “You overpower me with kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “You offer me just what I came to ask for.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will allow me to explain my intentions?” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite unnecessary, my dear sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me; if I follow my present plan, I shall be obliged to ascribe + certain sentiments, words, and even acts, to you, which you might perhaps + disavow, and—” + </p> + <p> + With a careless toss of the head, accompanied by a disdainful snap of the + fingers, the baron interrupted him. “Set to work, and don’t give yourself + the slightest uneasiness about that. You may do whatever you like, if you + only succeed in unmasking this dear marquis, and Coralth, his worthy + acolyte. Show me up in whatever light you choose. Who will you be in + Valorsay’s eyes? Why, Maumejan, one of my business agents, and I can + always throw the blame on you.” And as if to prove that he had divined even + the details of the scheme devised by his young friend, he added: “Besides, + every one knows that a millionaire’s business agent is anything but a + pleasant person to deal with. A millionaire, who is not a fool, must + always smile, and no matter how absurd the demands upon him may be, he + must always answer: ‘Yes, certainly, certainly—I should be only too + happy!’ But then he adds: ‘You must arrange the matter with my agent. + Confer with him.’ And it is the unlucky agent who must object, declare + that his employer has no money at his disposal just now, and finally say, + ‘No.’” + </p> + <p> + Pascal was still disposed to insist, but the baron was obdurate. “Oh! + enough, enough!” he exclaimed. “Don’t waste precious time in idle + discussion. The days are only twenty-four hours long: and as you see, I’m + very busy, so busy that I’ve not touched a card since the day before + yesterday. I am preparing a delightful surprise for Madame Trigault, my + daughter, and my son-in-law. It has been rather a delicate operation, but + I flatter myself that I have succeeded finely.” And he laughed a laugh + that was not pleasant to hear. “You see, I’ve had enough of paying several + hundred thousand francs a year for the privilege of being sneered at by my + wife, scorned by my daughter, swindled by my son-in-law, and vilified and + anathematized by all three of them. I am still willing to go on paying, + but only on conditions that they give me in return for my money, if not + the reality, at least a show of love, affection, and respect. I’m + determined to have the semblance of these things; I’m quite resolved on + that. Yes, I will have myself treated with deference. I’ll be petted and + coddled and made much of, or else I’ll suspend payment. It was one of my + old friends, a parvenu like myself—a man whose domestic happiness I + have envied for many years—who gave me this receipt: ‘At home,’ said + he, ‘with my wife, my daughters, and my sons-in-law, I’m like a peer of + England at an hotel. I order first-class happiness at so much a month. If + I get it I pay for it; if I don’t get it, I cut off the supplies. When I + get extras I pay for them cheerfully, without haggling. Follow my example, + my old friend, and you’ll have a comfortable life.’ And I shall follow his + advice, M. Ferailleur, for I am convinced that his theory is sound and + practicable. I have led this life long enough. I’ll spend my last days in + peace, or, as God hears me, I’ll let my family die of starvation!” + </p> + <p> + His face was purple, and the veins on his forehead stood out like + whipcords, but not so much from anger as from the constraint he imposed + upon himself by speaking in a whisper. He drew a long breath, and then in + a calmer tone, resumed: “But you must make haste and succeed, M. + Ferailleur, if you don’t want the young girl you love to be deprived of + her rightful heritage. You do not know into what unworthy hands the + Chalusse property is about to fall.” He was on the point of telling Pascal + the story of Madame d’Argeles and M. Wilkie, when he was interrupted by + the sound of a lively controversy in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Who’s taking such liberty in my house?” the baron began. But the next + instant he heard some one fling open the door of the large room adjoining, + and then a coarse, guttural voice called out: “What! he isn’t here! This + is too much!” + </p> + <p> + The baron made an angry gesture. “That’s Kami-Bey,” said he, “the Turk + whom I am playing that great game of cards with. The devil take him! He + will be sure to force his way in here—so we may as well join him, M. + Ferailleur.” + </p> + <p> + On reentering the adjoining apartment Pascal beheld a very corpulent man, + with a very red face, a straggling beard, a flat nose, small, beadlike + eyes, and sensual lips. He was clad in a black frock-coat, buttoned tight + to the throat, and he wore a fez. This costume gave him the appearance of + a chunky bottle, sealed with red wax. Such, indeed, was Kami-Bey, a + specimen of those semi-barbarians, loaded with gold who are not attracted + to Paris by its splendors and glories, but rather by its corruption—people + who come there persuaded that money will purchase anything and everything, + and who often return home with the same conviction. Kami was no doubt more + impudent, more cynical and more arrogant than others of his class. As he + was more wealthy, he had more followers; he had been more toadied and + flattered, and victimized to a greater extent by the host of female + intriguers, who look upon every foreigner as their rightful prey. + </p> + <p> + He spoke French passably well, but with an abominable accent. “Here you + are at last!” he exclaimed, as the baron entered the room. “I was becoming + very anxious.” + </p> + <p> + “About what, prince?” + </p> + <p> + Why Kami-Bey was called prince no one knew, not even the man himself. + Perhaps it was because the lackey who opened his carriage door on his + arrival at the Grand Hotel had addressed him by that title. + </p> + <p> + “About what!” he repeated. “You have won more than three hundred thousand + francs from me, and I was wondering if you intended to give me the slip.” + </p> + <p> + The baron frowned, and this time he omitted the title of prince + altogether. “It seems to me, sir, that according to our agreement, we were + to play until one of us had won five hundred thousand francs,” he said + haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “That’s true—but we ought to play every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly: but I’m very busy just now. I wrote to you explaining this, did + I not? If you are at all uneasy, tear up the book in which the results of + our games are noted, and that shall be the end of it. You will gain + considerably by the operation.” + </p> + <p> + Kami-Bey felt that the baron would not tolerate his arrogance, and so with + more moderation he exclaimed: “It isn’t strange that I’ve become + suspicious. I’m so victimized on every side. Because I’m a foreigner and + immensely rich, everybody fancies he has a right to plunder me. Men, + women, hotel-keepers and merchants, all unite in defrauding me. If I buy + pictures, they sell me vile daubs at fabulous prices. They ask ridiculous + amounts for horses, and then give me worthless, worn-out animals. + Everybody borrows money from me—and I’m never repaid. I shall be + ruined if this sort of thing goes on much longer.” + </p> + <p> + He had taken a seat, and the baron saw that he was not likely to get rid + of his guest very soon; so approaching Pascal he whispered: “You had + better go off, or you may miss Valorsay. And be careful, mind; for he is + exceedingly shrewd. Courage and good luck!” + </p> + <p> + Courage! It was not necessary to recommend that to Pascal. He who had + triumphed over his despair in the terrible hours, when he had reason to + suppose that Marguerite believed him guilty and had abandoned him, could + scarcely lack courage. While he was condemned to inaction, his mind had no + doubt been assailed by countless doubts and fears; but now that he knew + whom he was to attack—now that the decisive moment had come, he was + endowed with indomitable energy; he had turned to bronze, and he felt sure + that nothing could disconcert or even trouble him in future. The weapons + he had to use were not at all to his taste, but he had not been allowed a + choice in the matter; and since his enemies had decided on a warfare of + duplicity, he was resolved to surpass them in cunning, and vanquish them + by deception. + </p> + <p> + So, while hastening to the Marquis de Valorsay’s residence, he took stock + of his chances, and recapitulated his resources, striving to foresee and + remember everything. Thus if he failed—for he admitted the + possibility of defeat, without believing in it—he would have no + cause to reproach himself. Only fools find consolation in saying: “Who + could have foreseen that?” Great minds do foresee. And Pascal felt almost + certain that he was fully prepared for any emergency. + </p> + <p> + That morning, before leaving home, he had dressed with extreme care, + realizing that the shabby clothes he had worn on his first visit to the + Trigault mansion would not be appropriate on such an occasion as this. The + baron’s agent could scarcely have a poverty-stricken appearance, for + contact with millionaires is supposed to procure wealth as surely as + proximity to fire insures warmth. So he arrayed himself in a suit of + black, which was neither too elegant nor too much worn, and donned a broad + white necktie. He could see only one immediate, decisive chance against + him. M. de Valorsay might possibly recognize him. He thought not, but he + was not sure; and anxious on this account, he at first decided to disguise + himself. However, on reflection, he concluded not to do so. An imperfect + disguise would attract attention and awaken suspicion; and could he really + disguise his physiognomy? He was certain he could not. Very few men are + capable of doing so successfully, even after long experience. Only two or + three detectives and half a dozen actors possess the art of really + changing their lineaments. Thus after weighing the pros and cons, Pascal + determined to present himself as he was at the marquis’s house. + </p> + <p> + On approaching M. de Valorsay’s residence in the Avenue des Champs + Elysees, he slackened his pace. The mansion, which stood between a + courtyard and a garden, was very large and handsome. The stables and + carriage-house—really elegant structures—stood on either side + of the courtyard, near the half-open gate of which five or six servants + were amusing themselves by teasing a large dog. Pascal was just saying to + himself that the coast was clear, and that he should incur no danger by + going in, when he saw the servants step aside, the gate swing back, and M. + de Coralth emerged, accompanied by a young, fair-haired man, whose + mustaches were waxed and turned up in the most audacious fashion. They + were arm in arm, and turned in the direction of the Arc de Triomphe. + Pascal’s heart thrilled with joy. “Fate favors me!” he said to himself. + “If it hadn’t been for Kami-Bey, who detained me a full quarter of an hour + at Baron Trigault’s, I should have found myself face to face with that + miserable viscount, and then all would have been lost. But now I’m safe!” + </p> + <p> + It was with this encouraging thought that he approached the house. + </p> + <p> + “The marquis is very busy this morning,” said the servant to whom Pascal + addressed himself at the gate. “I doubt if he can see you.” But when + Pascal handed him one of his visiting cards, bearing the name of Maumejan, + with this addition in pencil: “Who calls as the representative of Baron + Trigault,” the valet’s face changed as if by enchantment. “Oh!” said he, + “that’s quite a different matter. If you come from Baron Trigault, you + will be received with all the respect due to the Messiah. Come in. I will + announce you myself.” + </p> + <p> + Everything in M. de Valorsay’s house, as at the baron’s residence, + indicated great wealth, and yet a close observer would have detected a + difference. The luxury of the Rue de la Ville-l’Eveque was of a real and + substantial character, which one did not find in the Avenue des Champs + Elysees. Everything in the marquis’s abode bore marks of the haste which + mars the merest trifle produced at the present age. “Take a seat here, and + I will see where the marquis is,” said the servant, as he ushered Pascal + into a large drawing-room. The apartment was elegantly furnished, but had + somewhat lost its freshness; the carpet, which had once been a marvel of + beauty, was stained in several places, and as the servants had not always + been careful to keep the shutters closed, the sunlight had perceptibly + faded the curtains. The attention of visitors was at once attracted by the + number of gold and silver cups, vases, and statuettes scattered about on + side-tables and cheffoniers. Each of these objects bore an inscription, + setting forth that it had been won at such a race, in such a year, by such + a horse, belonging to the Marquis de Valorsay. These were indeed the + marquis’s chief claims to glory, and had cost him at least half of the + immense fortune he had inherited. However, Pascal did not take much + interest in these trophies, so the time of waiting seemed long. “Valorsay + is playing the diplomat,” he thought. “He doesn’t wish to appear to be + anxious. Unfortunately, his servant has betrayed him.” + </p> + <p> + At last the valet returned. “The marquis will see you now, monsieur,” said + he. + </p> + <p> + This summons affected Pascal’s heart like the first roll of a drum beating + the charge. But his coolness did not desert him. “Now is the decisive + moment,” he thought. “Heaven grant that he may not recognize me!” And with + a firm step he followed the valet. + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay was seated in the apartment he usually occupied when he + remained at home—a little smoking-room connected with his bedroom. + He was to all intents busily engaged in examining some sporting journals. + A bottle of Madeira and a partially filled glass stood near him. As the + servant announced “Monsieur Maumejan!” he looked up and his eyes met + Pascal’s. But his glance did not waver; not a muscle of his face moved; + his countenance retained its usually cold and disdainful expression. + Evidently he had not the slightest suspicion that the man he had tried to + ruin—his mortal enemy—was standing there before him. + </p> + <p> + “M. Maumejan,” said he, “Baron Trigault’s agent?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur——” + </p> + <p> + “Pray be seated. I am just finishing here; I shall be at leisure in a + moment.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal took a chair. He had feared that he might not be able to retain his + self-control when he found himself in the presence of the scoundrel who, + after destroying his happiness, ruining his future, and depriving him of + his honor—dearer than life itself—was at that moment + endeavoring, by the most infamous manoeuvres, to rob him of the woman he + loved. “If my blood mounted to my brain,” he had thought, “I should spring + upon him and strangle him!” But no. His arteries did not throb more + quickly; it was with perfect calmness—the calmness of a strong + nature—that he stealthily watched M. de Valorsay. If he had seen him + a week before he would have been startled by the change which the past few + days had wrought in this brilliant nobleman’s appearance. He was little + more than a shadow of his former self. And seen at this hour, before + placing himself in his valet’s hands, before his premature decrepitude had + been concealed by the artifices of the toilet, he was really frightful. + His face was haggard, and his red and swollen eyelids betrayed a + long-continued want of sleep. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, he had suffered terribly during the past week. A man may be a + scapegrace and a spendthrift and may boast of it; he may have no principle + and no conscience; he may be immoral, he may defy God and the devil, but + it is nevertheless true that he suffers fearful anguish of mind when he is + guilty, for the first time, of a positive crime, forbidden by the laws and + punishable with the galleys. And who can say how many crimes the Marquis + de Valorsay had committed since the day he provided his accomplice, the + Viscount de Coralth, with those fatal cards? And apart from this there was + something extremely appalling in the position of this ruined millionaire, + who was contending desperately against his creditors for the vain + appearance of splendor, with the despairing energy of a ship-wrecked + mariner struggling for the possession of a floating spar. Had he not + confessed to M. Fortunat that he had suffered the tortures of the damned + in his struggle to maintain a show of wealth, while he was often without a + penny in his pocket, and was ever subject to the pitiless surveillance of + thirty servants? His agony, when he thought of his precarious condition, + could only be compared to that of a miner, who, while ascending from the + bowels of the earth, finds that the rope, upon which his life depends, is + slowly parting strand by strand, and who asks himself, in terror, if the + few threads that still remain unsevered will be strong enough to raise him + to the mouth of the pit. + </p> + <p> + However, the moment which M. de Valorsay had asked for had lengthened into + a quarter of an hour, and he had not yet finished his work. “What the + devil is he doing?” wondered Pascal, who was following his enemy’s + slightest movement with eager curiosity. + </p> + <p> + Countless sporting newspapers were strewn over the table, the chairs, and + the floor around the marquis, who took them up one after another, glanced + rapidly through their columns, and threw them on the floor again, or + placed them on a pile before him, first marking certain passages with a + red pencil. At last, probably fearing that Pascal was growing impatient, + he looked up and said: + </p> + <p> + “I am really very sorry to keep you waiting so long, but some one is + waiting for this work to be completed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! pray continue, Monsieur le Marquis,” interrupted Pascal. “Strange to + say, I have a little leisure at my command just now.” + </p> + <p> + The marquis seemed to feel that it was necessary to make some remark in + acknowledgment of this courtesy on his visitor’s part, and so, as he + continued his work, he condescended to explain its purpose. “I am playing + the part of a commentator,” he remarked. “I sold seven of my horses a few + days ago, and the purchaser, before paying the stipulated price, naturally + required an exact and authentic statement of each animal’s performances. + However, even this does not seem to have satisfied the gentleman, for he + has now taken it into his head to ask for such copies of the sporting + journals as record the victories or defeats of the animals he has + purchased. A gentleman is not so exacting generally. It is true, however, + that I have a foreigner to deal with—one of those half-civilized + nabobs who come here every year to astonish the Parisians with their + wealth and display, and who, by their idiotic prodigality, have so + increased the price of everything that life has become well-nigh an + impossibility to such of us as don’t care to squander an entire fortune in + a couple of years. These folks are the curse of Paris, for, with but few + exceptions, they only use their millions to enrich notorious women, + scoundrels, hotel-keepers, and jockeys.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal at once thought of the foreigner, Kami-Bey, whom he had met at + Baron Trigault’s half an hour before, and who had complained so bitterly + of having had worthless scrubs palmed off upon him when he fancied he had + purchased valuable animals. “Kami-Bey must be this exacting purchaser,” + thought Pascal, “and it’s probable that the marquis, desperately + straitened as he is, has committed one of those frauds which lead their + perpetrator to prison?” The surmise was by no means far-fetched, for in + sporting matters, at least, there was cause to suspect Valorsay of great + elasticity of conscience. Had he not already been accused of defrauding + Domingo’s champions by a conspiracy? + </p> + <p> + At last the marquis heaved a sigh of relief. “I’ve finished,” he muttered, + as he tied up the bundle of papers he had laid aside, and after ringing + the bell, he said to the servant who answered the summons: “Here, take + this package to Prince Kami at the Grand Hotel.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal’s presentiments had not deceived him, and he said to himself: “This + is a good thing to know. Before this evening I shall look into this affair + a little.” + </p> + <p> + A storm was decidedly gathering over the Marquis de Valorsay’s head. Did + he know it? Certainly he must have expected it. Still he had sworn to + stand fast until the end. Besides, he would not concede that all was lost; + and, like most great gamblers, he told himself that since he had so much + at stake, he might reasonably hope to succeed. He rose, stretched himself, + as a man is apt to do after the conclusion of a tiresome task, and then, + leaning against the mantel-shelf, he exclaimed: “Now, Monsieur Maumejan, + let us speak of the business that brings you here.” His negligent attitude + and his careless tone were admirably assumed, but a shrewd observer would + not have been deceived by them, or by the indifferent manner in which he + added: “You bring me some money from Baron Trigault?” + </p> + <p> + Pascal shook his head, as he replied: “I regret to say that I don’t, + Monsieur le Marquis.” + </p> + <p> + This response had the same effect as a heavy rock falling upon M. de + Valorsay’s bald pate. He turned whiter than his linen, and even tottered, + as if his lame leg, which was so much affected by sudden changes in the + weather, had utterly refused all service. “What! You haven’t—this is + undoubtedly a joke.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only too serious!” + </p> + <p> + “But I had the baron’s word.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! his word!” + </p> + <p> + “I had his solemn promise.” + </p> + <p> + “It is sometimes impossible to keep one’s promises, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The consequences of this disappointment must have been terrible, for the + marquis could not maintain his self-control. Still he strove valiantly to + conceal his emotion. He thought to himself that if he allowed this man to + see what a terrible blow this really was, he would virtually confess his + absolute ruin, and have to renounce the struggle, and own himself + vanquished and lost. So, summoning all his energy, he mastered his emotion + in some degree, and, instead of appearing desperate, succeeded in looking + only irritated and annoyed. “In short,” he resumed, angrily, “you have + brought no money! I counted on a hundred thousand francs this morning. + Nothing! This is kind on the baron’s part! But probably he doesn’t + understand the embarrassing position in which he places me.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Monsieur le Marquis, he understands it so well that, instead + of informing you by a simple note, he sent me to acquaint you with his + sincere regret. When I left him an hour ago, he was really disconsolate. + He was particularly anxious I should tell you that it was not his fault. + He counted upon the payment of two very large amounts, and both of these + have failed him.” + </p> + <p> + The marquis had now recovered a little from the shock, though he was still + very pale. He looked at Pascal with evident distrust, for he knew with + what sweet excuses well-bred people envelope their refusals. “So the baron + is disconsolate,” he remarked, in a tone of perceptible irony. + </p> + <p> + “He is indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor baron! Ah! I pity him—pity him deeply.” + </p> + <p> + As cold and as unmoved as a statue, Pascal seemed quite unconscious of the + effect of the message he had brought—quite unconscious of Valorsay’s + sufferings and self-constraint. “You think I am jesting, monsieur,” he + said, quietly, “but I assure you that the baron is very short of money + just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! a man worth seven or eight millions of francs.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say ten millions, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the excuse is all the more absurd.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. “It astonishes me, Monsieur le + Marquis, to hear YOU speak in this way. It is not the magnitude of a man’s + income that constitutes affluence, but rather the way in which that income + is spent. In this foolish age, almost all rich people are in arrears. What + income does the baron derive from his ten millions of francs? Not more + than five hundred thousand. A very handsome fortune, no doubt, and I + should be more than content with it. But the baron gambles, and the + baroness is the most elegant—in other words, the most extravagant—woman + in Paris. They both of them love luxury, and their establishment is kept + up in princely style. What are five hundred thousand francs under such + circumstances as those? Their situation must be something like that of + several millionaires of my acquaintance, who are obliged to take their + silver to the pawn-broker’s while waiting for their rents to fall due.” + </p> + <p> + This excuse might not be true, but it was certainly a very plausible one. + Had not a recent lawsuit revealed the fact that certain rich folks, who + had an income of more than a hundred thousand francs a year, had kept a + thieving coachman for six months, simply because, in all that time, they + were not able to raise the eight hundred francs they owed him, and which + must be paid before he was dismissed? M. de Valorsay knew this, but a + terrible disquietude seized him. Had people begun to suspect HIS + embarrassment? Had any rumor of it reached Baron Trigault’s ears? This was + what he wished to ascertain. “Let us understand each other, Monsieur + Maumejan,” said he; “the baron was unable to procure this money he had + promised me to-day—but when will he let me have it?” + </p> + <p> + Pascal opened his eyes in pretended astonishment, and it was with an air + of the utmost simplicity that he replied, “I concluded the baron would + take no further action in the matter. I judged so from his parting words: + ‘It consoles me a little,’ he said, ‘to think that the Marquis de Valorsay + is very rich and very well known, and that he has a dozen friends who will + be delighted to do him this trifling service.’” + </p> + <p> + Until now, M. de Valorsay had cherished a hope that the loan was only + delayed, and the certainty that the decision was final, crushed him. “My + ruin’s known,” he thought, and feeling that his strength was deserting + him, he poured out a brimming glass of Madeira, which he emptied at a + single draught. The wine lent him fictitious energy. Fury mounted to his + brain; he lost all control over himself, and springing up, with his face + purple with rage, he exclaimed: “It’s a shame! an infamous shame! and + Trigault deserves to be severely punished. He has no business to keep a + man in hot water for three days about such a trifle. If he had said ‘No’ + in the first place, I should have made other arrangements, and I shouldn’t + now find myself in a dilemma from which I see no possible way of escape. + No gentleman would have been guilty of such a contemptible act—no + one but a shopkeeper or a thief would have stooped to such meanness! This + is the result of admitting these ridiculous parvenus into society, just + because they happen to have money.” + </p> + <p> + It certainly hurt Pascal to hear these insults heaped upon the baron, and + it hurt him all the more since they were entirely due to the course he had + personally adopted. + </p> + <p> + However, a gesture, even a frown, might endanger the success of his + undertaking, so he preserved an impassive countenance. “I must say that I + don’t understand your indignation, Monsieur le Marquis,” he said, coldly. + “I can see why you might feel annoyed, but why you should fly into a + passion—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you don’t know——” began M. de Valorsay, but he stopped + short. It was time. The truth had almost escaped his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Know what?” inquired Pascal. + </p> + <p> + But the marquis was again upon his guard. “I have a debt that must be paid + this evening, at all hazards—a sacred obligation—in short, a + debt of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “A debt of one hundred thousand francs?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is only twenty-five thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible that a rich man like you can be troubled about such a + trifling sum, which any one would lend you?” + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay interrupted him with a contemptuous sneer. “Didn’t you just + tell me that we were living in an age when no one has any money except + those who are in business? The richest of my friends have only enough for + themselves, even if they have enough. The time of old stockings, stuffed + full of savings, is past! Shall I apply to a banker? He would ask two days + for reflection, and he would require the names of two or three of my + friends on the note. If I go to my notary, there will be endless forms to + be gone through, and remonstrances without number.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment or more already, Pascal had been moving about uneasily on his + chair, like a man who is waiting for an opportunity to make a suggestion, + and as soon as M. de Valorsay paused to take breath, he exclaimed: “Upon + my word! if I dared——” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I would offer to obtain you these twenty-five thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I.” + </p> + <p> + “Before six o’clock this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + A glass of ice-water presented to a parched traveller while journeying + over the desert sands of Sahara could not impart greater relief and + delight than the marquis experienced on hearing Pascal’s offer. He + literally felt that he was restored to life. + </p> + <p> + For ruin was inevitable if he did not succeed in obtaining twenty-five + thousand francs that day. If he could procure that amount he might obtain + a momentary respite, and to gain time was the main thing. Moreover, the + offer was a sufficient proof that his financial difficulties were not + known. “Ah! I have had a fortunate escape,” he thought. “What if I had + revealed the truth!” + </p> + <p> + But he was careful to conceal the secret joy that filled his heart. He + feared lest he might say “Yes” too quickly, so betray his secret, and + place himself at the mercy of the baron’s envoy. “I would willingly accept + your offer,” he exclaimed, “if——” + </p> + <p> + “If what?” + </p> + <p> + “Would it be proper for me, after the baron has treated me in such a + contemptible manner, to have any dealings with one of his subordinates?” + </p> + <p> + Pascal protested vigorously. “Allow me to say,” he exclaimed, “that I am + not any one’s subordinate. Trigault is my client, like thirty or forty + others—nothing more. He employs me in certain difficult and delicate + negotiations, which I conduct to the best of my ability. He pays me, and + we are each of us perfectly independent of the other.” + </p> + <p> + From the look which Valorsay gave Pascal, one would have sworn that he + suspected who his visitor really was. But such was not the case. It was + simply this: a strange, but by no means impossible, idea had flashed + through the marquis’s mind—“Oh!” thought he, “this unknown party + with whom Maumejan offers to negotiate the loan, is probably none other + than the baron himself. That worthy gambler has invented this ingenious + method of obliging me so as to extort a rate of interest which he would + not dare to demand openly. And why not? There have been plenty of such + instances. Isn’t it a well-known fact that the N—— Brothers, + the most rigidly honest financiers in the world, have never under any + circumstances directly obliged one of their friends? If their own father, + of whom they always speak with the greatest veneration, asked them to lend + him fifty francs for a month, they would say to him as they do to every + one else: ‘We are rather cramped just now; but see that rascal B——.’ + And that rascal B——, who is the most pliable tool in + existence, will, providing father N—— offers unquestionable + security, lend the old gentleman his son’s money at from twelve to fifteen + per cent. interest, plus a small commission.” + </p> + <p> + These ideas and recollections were of considerable assistance in restoring + Valorsay’s composure. “Enough said, then,” he answered, lightly. “I accept + with pleasure. But——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! so there is a but!” + </p> + <p> + “There is always one. I must warn you that it will be difficult for me to + repay this loan in less than two months.” + </p> + <p> + This, then, was the time he thought necessary for the accomplishment of + his designs. + </p> + <p> + “That does not matter,” replied Pascal, “and even if you desire a longer + delay.” “That will be unnecessary, thank you! But there is one thing + more.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “What will this negotiation cost me?” + </p> + <p> + Pascal had expected this question, and he had prepared a reply which was + in perfect keeping with the spirit of the role he had assumed. “I shall + charge you the ordinary rates,” he answered, “six per cent. interest, plus + one-and-a-half per cent. commission.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” + </p> + <p> + “Plus the remuneration for my trouble and services.” + </p> + <p> + “And what remuneration will satisfy you?” + </p> + <p> + “One thousand francs. Is it too much?” + </p> + <p> + If the marquis had retained the shadow of a doubt, it vanished now. “Ah!” + he sneered, “that strikes me as a very liberal compensation for your + services!” + </p> + <p> + But he would gladly have recalled the sneer when he saw how the agent + received it. Pascal drew up his head with a deeply injured air, and + remarked in the chilling tone of a person who is strongly tempted to + retract his word, “Then there is nothing more to be said, M. le Marquis; + and since you find the conditions onerous——” + </p> + <p> + “I did not say so,” interrupted M. de Valorsay, quickly—“I did not + even think it!” + </p> + <p> + This gave Pascal an opportunity to present his programme, and he availed + himself of it. “Others may pretend to oblige people merely from motives of + friendship,” he remarked. “But I am more honest. If I do anything in the + way of business, I expect to be paid for it; and I vary my terms according + to my clients’ need. It would be impossible to have a fixed price for + services like mine. When, on two different occasions, I saved a gentleman + of your acquaintance from bankruptcy, I asked ten thousand francs the + first time, and fifteen thousand the second. Was that an exaggerated + estimate of my services? I might boast with truth that I once assured the + marriage of a brilliant viscount by keeping his creditors quiet while his + courtship was in progress. The day after the wedding he paid me twenty + thousand francs. Didn’t he owe them to me? If, instead of being a trifle + short of money, you happened to be ruined, I should not ask you merely for + a thousand francs. I should study your position, and fix my terms + according to the magnitude of the peril from which I rescued you.” + </p> + <p> + There was not a sentence, not a word of this cynical explanation which had + not been carefully studied beforehand. There was not an expression which + was not a tempting bait to the marquis’s evil instincts. But M de Valorsay + made no sign. “I see that you are a shrewd man, Monsieur Maumejan,” said + he, “and if I am ever in difficulty I shall apply to you.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal bowed with an air of assumed modesty; but he was inwardly jubilant, + for he felt that his enemy would certainly fall into the trap which had + been set for him. “And now, when shall I have this money?” inquired the + marquis. + </p> + <p> + “By four o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “And I need fear no disappointment as in the baron’s case?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. What interest would M. Trigault have in lending you a + hundred thousand francs? None whatever. With me it is quite a different + thing. The profit I’m to realize is your security. In business matters + distrust your friends. Apply to usurers rather than to them. Question + people who are in difficulties, and ninety-five out of a hundred will tell + you that their worst troubles have been caused by those who called + themselves their best friends.” + </p> + <p> + He had risen to take leave, when the door of the smoking-room opened, and + a servant appeared and said in an undertone: “Madame Leon is in the + drawing-room with Dr. Jodon. They wish to see you, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + Though Pascal had armed himself well against any unexpected mischance, he + changed color on hearing the name of the worthy housekeeper. “All is lost + if this creature sees and recognizes me!” he thought. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately the Marquis was too much engrossed in his own affairs to note + the momentary agitation of Baron Trigault’s envoy. “It is strange that I + can’t have five minutes’ peace and quietness,” he said. “I told you that I + was at home to no one.” + </p> + <p> + “But——” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! Let the lady and gentleman wait.” + </p> + <p> + The servant withdrew. + </p> + <p> + The thought of passing out through the drawing-room filled Pascal with + consternation. How could he hope to escape Madame Leon’s keen eyes? + Fortunately M. de Valorsay came to his relief, for as Pascal was about to + open the same door by which he had entered, the marquis exclaimed: “Not + that way! Pass out here—this is the shortest way.” + </p> + <p> + And leading him through his bedroom the marquis conducted him to the + staircase, where he even feigned to offer him his hand, saying: “A speedy + return, dear M. Maumejan.” + </p> + <p> + It is not at the moment of peril that people endure the worst agony; it is + afterward, when they have escaped it. As he went down the staircase, + Pascal wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. “Ah! it was a narrow + escape!” he exclaimed, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + He felt proud of the manner in which he had sustained a part so repugnant + to his nature. He was amazed to find that he could utter falsehoods with + such a calm, unblushing face—he was astonished at his own audacity. + And what a success he had achieved! He felt certain that he had just + slipped round M. de Valorsay’s neck the noose which would strangle him + later on. Still he was considerably disturbed by Madame Leon’s visit to + the marquis. “What is she doing here with this physician?” he asked + himself again and again. “Who is this man? What new piece of infamy are + they plotting to require his services?” One of those presentiments which + are prompted by the logic of events, told him that this physician had + been, or would be, one of the actors in the vile conspiracy of which he + and Mademoiselle Marguerite were the victims. But he had no leisure to + devote to the solution of this enigma. Time was flying, and before + returning to the marquis’s house he must find out what had aroused the + suspicions of the purchaser of those horses, the biographies of which had + been so rigidly exacted. Through the baron, he might hope to obtain an + interview with Kami-Bey—and so it was to the baron’s house that + Pascal directed his steps. + </p> + <p> + After the more than cordial reception which the baron had granted him that + morning, it was quite natural that the servants should receive him as a + friend of the household. They would scarcely allow him to explain what he + desired. It was the pompous head valet in person who ushered him into one + of the small reception-rooms, exclaiming: “The baron’s engaged, but I’m + sure he would be annoyed if he failed to see you; and I will inform him at + once.” + </p> + <p> + A moment later, the baron entered quite breathless from his hurried + descent of the staircase. “Ah! you have been successful,” he exclaimed, on + seeing Pascal’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Everything is progressing as favorably as I could wish, Monsieur le + Baron, but I must speak with that foreigner whom I met here this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Kami-Bey?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” And in a few words, Pascal explained the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Providence is certainly on our side,” said the baron, thoughtfully. “Kami + is still here.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a fact. Did you think it would be easy to get rid of this confounded + Turk! He invited himself to breakfast without the slightest ceremony, and + would give me no peace until I promised to play with him for two hours. I + was closeted with him, cards in hand, when they told me you were here. + Come, we’ll go and question him.” + </p> + <p> + They found the interesting foreigner in a savage mood. He had been winning + when the servant came for the baron, and he feared that an interruption + would change the luck. “What the devil took you away?” he exclaimed, with + that coarseness of manner which was habitual with him, and which the + flatterers around him styled “form.” “A man should no more be disturbed + when he’s playing than when he’s eating.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, prince,” said the baron, good-naturedly, “don’t be angry, and + I’ll give you three hours instead of two. But I have a favor to ask of + you.” + </p> + <p> + The foreigner at once thrust his hand into his pocket, with such a natural + gesture, that neither the baron nor Pascal could repress a smile, and he + himself understanding the cause of their merriment broke into a hearty + laugh. “It’s purely from force of habit,” said he. “Ah! since I’ve been in + Paris—— But what do you wish?” + </p> + <p> + The baron sat down, and gravely replied: “You told us scarcely an hour ago + that you had been cheated in the purchase of some horses.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheated! it was worse than highway robbery.” + </p> + <p> + “Would it be indiscreet to ask you by whom you have been defrauded?” + </p> + <p> + Kami-Bey’s purple cheeks became a trifle pale. “Hum!” said he, in an + altered tone of voice, “that is a delicate question. My defrauder appears + to be a dangerous fellow—a duellist—and if I disclose his + knavery, he is quite capable of picking a quarrel with me—not that I + am afraid of him, I assure you, but my principles don’t allow me to fight. + When a man has an income of a million, he doesn’t care to expose himself + to the dangers of a duel.” + </p> + <p> + “But, prince, in France folks don’t do a scoundrel the honor to cross + swords with him.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just what my steward, who is a Frenchman, told me; but no matter. + Besides, I am not sufficiently sure of the man’s guilt to noise it abroad. + I have no positive proofs as yet.” + </p> + <p> + He was evidently terribly frightened, and the first thing to be done was + to reassure him. “Come,” insisted the baron, “tell us the man’s name. This + gentleman here”—pointing to Pascal—“is one of my most esteemed + friends. I will answer for him as I would for myself; and we will swear + upon our honor not to reveal the secret we ask you for, without your + permission.” + </p> + <p> + “Truly?” + </p> + <p> + “You have our word of honor,” replied both the baron and Pascal in a + breath. + </p> + <p> + After casting a half-frightened glance around him, the worthy Turk seemed + to gather courage. But no! He deliberated some time, and then rejoined: + “Really, I’m not sufficiently convinced of the accuracy of my suspicions + to incur the risk of accusing a man who belongs in the very best society; + a man who is very rich and very highly respected, and who would tolerate + no imputations upon his character.” + </p> + <p> + It was plain that he would not speak. The baron shrugged his shoulders, + but Pascal stepped bravely forward. “Then I will tell you, prince,” he + said, “the name that you are determined to hide from us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “But you must allow me to remark that the baron and myself retract the + promise we made you just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, your defrauder is the Marquis de Valorsay!” + </p> + <p> + If Kami-Bey had seen an emissary of his sovereign enter the room carrying + the fatal bow-string he would not have seemed more terror-stricken. He + sprang nervously on to his short, fat legs, his eyes wildly dilating and + his hands fluttering despairingly. “Don’t speak so loud! don’t speak so + loud!” he exclaimed, imploringly. + </p> + <p> + As he did not even attempt to deny it, the truth of the assertion might be + taken for granted. But Pascal was not content with this. “Now that we know + the fact, I hope, Prince, that you will be sufficiently obliging to tell + us how it all happened,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + Poor Kami. He was in despair. “Alas!” he replied, reluctantly, “nothing + could be more simple. I wanted to set up a racing stable. Not that I care + much for sport. I can scarcely distinguish a horse from a mule—but + morning and evening, everybody says to me: ‘Prince, a man like you ought + to make your name celebrated on the turf.’ Besides I never open a paper + without reading: ‘Such a man ought to be a patron of the noblest of + sports.’ At last, I said to myself: ‘Yes, they are right. I ought to take + part in racing.’ So I began to look about for some horses. I had purchased + several, when the Marquis de Valorsay proposed to sell me some of his, + some that were very well known, and that had—so he assured me—won + at least ten times the amount they had cost him. I accepted his offer, and + visited his stables, where I selected seven of his best horses and paid + for them; and I paid a good round price, I assure you. Now comes the + knavery. He has not given me the horses I purchased. The real animals, the + valuable ones—have been sold in England under false names, and + although the horses sent to me may be like the others in appearance, they + are really only common animals, wanting both in blood and speed.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal and the baron exchanged astonished glances. It must be confessed + that frauds of every description are common enough in the racing world, + and a great deal of dishonest manoeuvring results from greed for gain + united with the fever of gambling. But never before had any one been + accused of such an audacious and impudent piece of rascality as that which + Kami-Bey imputed to Valorsay. + </p> + <p> + “How did you fail to discover this at the outset, prince?” inquired Pascal + in an incredulous tone. + </p> + <p> + “Because my time was so much occupied.” + </p> + <p> + “But your servants?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that’s another thing. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if it were + proved that the man who has charge of my stables had been bribed by the + marquis.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, how were your suspicions aroused?” + </p> + <p> + “It was only by the merest chance. A jockey whom I thought of employing + had often ridden one of the animals which I fancied myself the owner of. + Naturally, I showed him the horse, but he had no sooner set eyes on it + than he exclaimed: ‘That the horse! Never! You’ve been cheated, prince!’ + Then we examined the others, and the fraud became apparent.” + </p> + <p> + Knowing Kami’s character better than Pascal, the baron had good reason to + distrust the accuracy of these statements. For the Turkish millionaire’s + superb contempt of money was only affected. Vanity alone unloosed his + purse-strings. He was quite capable of presenting Jenny Fancy with a + necklace costing five-and-twenty thousand francs for the sake of seeing + his generosity recorded in the Gaulois or the Figaro the next day; but he + would refuse to give a trifle to the mother of a starving family. Besides, + it was his ambition to be regarded as the most swindled man in Europe. But + though he was shamefully imposed upon, it was not voluntarily—for + there was a strong dose of Arabian avarice and distrust in his + composition. + </p> + <p> + “Frankly, prince,” said the baron, “your story sounds like one of the wild + legends of your native land. Valorsay is certainly no fool. How is it + possible that he could have been guilty of so gross a fraud—a fraud + which might be, which could not fail to be discovered in twenty-four hours—and + which, once proven, would dishonor him forever?” + </p> + <p> + “Before perpetrating such a piece of deception upon any one else, he would + have thought twice; but upon me it’s different. Isn’t it an established + fact that a person incurs no risk in robbing Kami-Bey?” + </p> + <p> + “Had I been in your place I should have quietly instituted an + investigation.” + </p> + <p> + “What good would that have done? Besides, the sale was only conditional, + and took place under the seal of secrecy. The marquis reserved the right + to take his horses back on payment of a stipulated sum, and the time he + was to have for consideration only expired on the day before yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! why didn’t you tell us that at first?” cried the baron. + </p> + <p> + The marquis’s rascality was now easily explained. Finding himself in a + desperate strait, and feeling that his salvation was certain if he could + only gain a little time, he had yielded to temptation, saying to himself, + like unfaithful cashiers when they first appropriate their employers’ + money: “I will pay it back, and no one will ever know it!” However, when + the day of settlement came he had found himself in as deplorable a plight + as on the day of the robbery, and he had been compelled to yield to the + force of circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you intend to do, prince?” asked Pascal. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I am still in doubt. I have compelled the marquis to give me the + papers in which the exploits of these horses are recorded. These + statements will be of service in case of a law-suit. But shall I or shall + I not enter a complaint against him? If it were a mere question of money I + should let the matter drop; but he has defrauded and deceived me so + outrageously that it annoys me. On the other hand, to confess that he has + cheated me in this fashion would cover me with ridicule. Besides, the man + is a dangerous enemy. And what would become of me if I happened to side + against him? I should be compelled to leave Paris. Ah! I’d give ten + thousand francs to any one who’d settle this cursed affair for me!” + </p> + <p> + His perplexity was so great, and his anger so intense, for that once he + tore off his eternal fez and flung it on to the table, swearing like a + drayman. However, controlling himself at last, he exclaimed in a tone of + assumed indifference: “No matter, there’s been enough said on this subject + for one day—I’m here to play—so let us begin, baron. For we + are wasting precious time, as you so often remark.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal had nothing more to learn; so he shook hands with the baron, made + an appointment with him for the same evening, and went away. + </p> + <p> + It was only half-past two; a good hour and a half remained at his + disposal. “I will profit by this opportunity to eat something,” he + thought; a sudden faintness reminding him that he had taken nothing but a + cup of chocolate that day. Thereupon perceiving a cafe near by, he entered + it, ordered breakfast, and lingered there until it was time to return to + the Marquis de Valorsay’s. He would have gone there before the appointed + time if he had merely listened to the promptings of his impatience, so + thoroughly was he persuaded that this second interview would be decisive. + But prudence advised him not to expose himself to the danger of an + encounter with Madame Leon and Dr. Jodon. + </p> + <p> + “Well! Monsieur Maumejan,” cried the marquis, as soon as Pascal made his + appearance. He had been counting the seconds with intense anxiety, as his + tone of voice unmistakably revealed. + </p> + <p> + In reply Pascal gravely drew from his pocket twenty-four bank-notes, of a + thousand francs each, and he placed them upon the table, saying: “Here is + the amount, Monsieur le Marquis. I have, of course, deducted my + commission. Now, if you will write and sign a note for twenty-five + thousand francs, payable to my order two months hence, our business for + to-day will be concluded.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay’s hand trembled nervously as he penned the desired note, + for, until the very last moment, he had doubted the promises of this + unknown agent who had made his appearance so opportunely Then, when the + document was signed, he carelessly slipped the money into a drawer and + exclaimed: “So here’s the needful to pay my debt of honor; but my + embarrassment is none the less great. These twenty-four thousand francs + won’t take the place of the hundred thousand which Baron Trigault promised + me.” + </p> + <p> + And, as Pascal made no reply, the marquis began a desultory tramp up and + down the smoking-room. He was very pale, his brows were knit; he looked + like a man who was meditating a decisive step, and who was calculating the + consequences. But having no time to waste in hesitation, he soon paused in + front of Pascal, and exclaimed: “Since you have just lent me twenty-four + thousand francs, why won’t you lend me the rest?” + </p> + <p> + But Pascal shook his head. “One risks nothing by advancing twenty-five + thousand francs to a person in your position, Monsieur le Marquis. + Whatever happens, such a sum as that can always be gathered from the + wreck. But double or triple the amount! The deuce! that requires + reflection, and I must understand the situation thoroughly.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I told you that I am—almost ruined, what would you reply?” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t be so very much surprised.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay had now gone too far to draw back. “Ah, well!” he resumed, + “the truth is this—my affairs are terribly involved.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! You should have told me that sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait; I am about to retrieve my fortune—to make it even larger than + it has ever been. I am on the point of contracting a marriage which will + make me one of the richest men in Paris; but I must have a little time to + bring the affair to a successful termination, and I need money—and + my creditors are pressing me unmercifully. You told me this morning that + you once assisted a man who was in a similar position. Will you help me? + You can set your own price on your services.” + </p> + <p> + More easily overcome by joy than by sorrow, Pascal almost betrayed + himself. He had attained his object. Still, he succeeded in conquering his + emotion, and it was in a perfectly calm voice that he replied: “I can + promise nothing until I understand the situation, Monsieur le Marquis. + Will you explain it to me? I am listening.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. + </h2> + <p> + It was nearly midnight when M. Wilkie left the Hotel d’Argeles after the + terrible scene in which he had revealed his true character. On seeing him + pass out with haggard eyes, colorless lips, and disordered clothing, the + servants gathered in the vestibule took him at first for another of those + ruined gamblers who not unfrequently left the house with despair in their + hearts. + </p> + <p> + “Another fellow who’s had bad luck!” they remarked sneeringly to one + another. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt about that. He is pretty effectually used up, judging from + appearances,” one of them remarked. + </p> + <p> + It was not until some moments later that they learned a portion of the + truth through the servants who had been on duty upstairs, and who now ran + down in great terror, crying that Madame d’Argeles was dying, and that a + physician must be summoned at once. + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie was already far away, hastening up the boulevard with an agile + step. Any one else would have been overcome with shame and sorrow—would + have been frightened by the thought of what he had done, and have striven + to find some way to conceal his disgrace; but he, not in the least. In + this frightful crisis, he was only conscious of one fact—that just + as he raised his hand to strike Madame Lia d’Argeles, his mother, a big, + burly individual had burst into the room, like a bombshell, caught him by + the throat, forced him upon his knees, and compelled him to ask the lady’s + pardon. He, Wilkie, to be humiliated in this style! He would never endure + that. This was an affront he could not swallow, one of those insults that + cry out for vengeance and for blood. “Ah! the great brute shall pay for + it,” he repeated, again and again, grinding his teeth. And if he hastened + up the boulevard, it was only because he hoped to meet his two chosen + friends, M. Costard and the Viscount de Serpillon, the co-proprietors of + Pompier de Nanterre. + </p> + <p> + For he intended to place his outraged honor in their care. They should be + his seconds, and present his demand for satisfaction to the man who had + insulted him. A duel was the only thing that could appease his furious + anger and heal his wounded pride. And a great scandal, which he would be + the hero of, was not without a certain charm for him. What a glorious + chance to win notoriety at an epoch when newspapers have become public + laundries, in which every one washes his soiled linen and dries it in the + glare of publicity! He saw his already remarkable reputation enhanced by + the interest that always attaches to people who are talked about, and he + could hear in advance the flattering whisper which would greet his + appearance everywhere: “You see that young man?—he is the hero of + that famous adventure,” etc. Moreover, he was already twisting and turning + the terms of the notice which his seconds must have inserted in the + Figaro, hesitating between two or three equally startling beginnings: + “Another famous duel,” or “Yesterday, after a scandalous scene, an + encounter,” etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, he did not meet either M. Costard or the Viscount de + Serpillon. Strange to say, they were not in any of the cafes, where the + flower of French chivalry usually congregates, in the company of + golden-haired young women, from nine in the evening until one o’clock in + the morning. This disappointment grieved M. Wilkie sorely, although he + derived some benefit from it, for his disordered attire attracted + attention at each place he entered, and acquaintances eagerly inquired: + “Where have you come from, and what has happened to you?” Whereupon he + replied with an air of profound secrecy: “Pray don’t speak of it. A + shocking affair! If it were noised abroad I should be inconsolable.” + </p> + <p> + At last the cafes began to close, and promenaders became rare. M. Wilkie, + much to his regret, was obliged to go home. When he had locked his door + and donned his dressing-gown, he sat down to think over the events of the + day, and collect his scattered wits. What most troubled and disquieted him + was not the condition in which he had left Madame Lia d’Argeles, his + mother, who was, perhaps, dying, through his fault! It was not the + terrible sacrifice that this poor woman had made for him in a transport of + maternal love! It was not the thought of the source from which the money + he had squandered for so many years had been derived. No, M. Wilkie was + quite above such paltry considerations—good enough for commonplace + and antiquated people. “He was too clever for that. Ah! yes. He had a + stronger stomach, and was up with the times!” If he were sorely vexed in + spirit it was because he thought that the immense property which he had + believed his own had slipped, perhaps for ever, from his grasp. For rising + threateningly between the Chalusse millions and himself, he pictured the + form of his father, this man whom he did not know, but whose very name had + made Madame d’Argeles shudder. + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie was seized with terror when he looked his actual situation in + the face. What was to become of him? He was certain that Madame d’Argeles + would not give him another sou. She could not—he recognized that + fact. His intelligence was equal to that. On the other hand, if he ever + obtained anything from the count’s estate, which was more than doubtful, + would he not be obliged to wait a long time for it? Yes, in all + probability such would be the case. Then how should he live, how would he + be able to obtain food in the meantime? His despair was so poignant that + tears came to his eyes; and he bitterly deplored the step he had taken. + Yes, he actually sighed for the past; he longed to live over again the + very years in which he had so often complained of his destiny. Then, + though not a millionaire by any means, he at least wanted for nothing. + Every quarter-day a very considerable allowance was promptly paid him, + and, in great emergencies, he could apply to Mr. Patterson, who always + sent a favorable answer if not drawn upon too heavily. Yes, he sighed for + that time! Ah! if he had only then realized how fortunate he was! Had he + not been one of the most opulent members of the society in which he moved? + Had he not been flattered and admired more than any of his companions? Had + he not found the most exquisite happiness in his part ownership of Pompier + de Nanterre! + </p> + <p> + Now, what remained? Nothing, save anxiety concerning the future, and all + sorts of uncertainties and terrors! What a mistake! What a blunder he had + made! Ah! if he could only begin again. He sincerely wished that the great + adversary of mankind had the Viscount de Coralth in his clutches. For, in + his despair, it was the once dear viscount that he blamed, accused, and + cursed. + </p> + <p> + He was in this ungrateful frame of mind when a loud, almost savage, ring + came at his door. As his servant slept in an attic upstairs, Wilkie was + quite alone in his rooms, so he took the lamp and went to open the door + himself. At this hour of the night, the visitor could only be M. Costard + or the Viscount de Serpillon, or perhaps both of them. “They have heard + that I was looking for them, and so they have hastened here,” he thought. + </p> + <p> + But he was mistaken. The visitor was neither of these gentlemen, but M. + Ferdinand de Coralth in person. Prudence had compelled the viscount to + leave Madame d’Argeles’s card-party one of the last, but as soon as he was + out of the house he had rushed to the Marquis de Valorsay’s to hold a + conference with him, far from suspecting that he was followed, and that an + auxiliary of Pascal Ferailleur and Mademoiselle Marguerite was even then + waiting for him below—an enemy as formidable as he was humble—Victor + Chupin. + </p> + <p> + At sight of the man who had so long been his model—the friend who + had advised what he styled his blunder—Wilkie was so surprised that + he almost dropped his lamp. Then as his wrath kindled, “Ah! so it’s you!” + he exclaimed, angrily. “You come at a good time!” + </p> + <p> + But M. de Coralth was too much exasperated to notice Wilkie’s strange + greeting. Seizing him roughly by the arm, and closing the door with a + kick, he dragged Wilkie back into the little drawing-room. “Yes, it’s I,” + he said, curtly. “It’s I—come to inquire if you have gone mad?” + </p> + <p> + “Viscount!” + </p> + <p> + “I can find no other explanation of your conduct! What! You choose Madame + d’Argeles’s reception day, and an hour when there are fifty guests in her + drawing-room to present yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well! it wasn’t from choice. I had been there twice before, and had + the doors shut in my face.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to have gone back ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times, + rather than have accomplished such an idiotic prank as this.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me.” + </p> + <p> + “What did I recommend? Prudence, calmness and moderation, persuasive + gentleness, sentiments of the loftiest nature, tenderness, a shower of + tears——” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly, but——” + </p> + <p> + “But instead of that, you fall upon this woman like a thunderbolt, and set + the whole household in the wildest commotion. What could you be thinking + of, to make such an absurd and frightful scene? For you howled and + shrieked like a street hawker, and we could hear you in the drawing-room. + If all is not irretrievably lost, there must be a special Providence for + the benefit of fools!” + </p> + <p> + In his dismay, Wilkie endeavored to falter some excuses, but he was only + able to begin a few sentences which died away, uncompleted in his throat. + The violence shown by M. de Coralth, who was usually as cold and as + polished as marble, quieted his own wrath. Still toward the last he felt + disposed to rebel against the insults that were being heaped upon him. “Do + you know, viscount, that I begin to think this very strange,” he + exclaimed. “If any one else had led me into such a scrape, I should have + called him to account in double-quick time.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Coralth shrugged his shoulders with an air of contempt, and + threateningly replied: “Understand, once for all, that you had better not + attempt to bully me! Now, tell me what passed between your mother and + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “First I should like——” + </p> + <p> + “Dash it all! Do you suppose that I intend to remain here all night? Tell + me what occurred, and be quick about it. And try to speak the truth.” + </p> + <p> + It was one of M. Wilkie’s greatest boasts that he had an indomitable will—an + iron nature. But the viscount exercised powerful influence over him, and, + to tell the truth, inspired him with a form of emotion which was nearly + akin to fear. Moreover, a glimmer of reason had at last penetrated his + befogged brain: he saw that M. de Coralth was right—that he had + acted like a fool, and that, if he hoped to escape from the dangers that + threatened him, he must take the advice of more experienced men than + himself. So, ceasing his recriminations, he began to describe what he + styled his explanation with Madame d’Argeles. All went well at first; for + he dared not misrepresent the facts. + </p> + <p> + But when he came to the intervention of the man who had prevented him from + striking his mother, he turned crimson, and rage again filled his heart. + “I’m sorry I let myself get into such a mess!” he exclaimed. “You should + have seen my condition. My shirt-collar was torn, and my cravat hung in + tatters. He was much stronger than I—the contemptible scoundrel!—ah! + if it hadn’t been for that—— But I shall have my revenge. Yes, + he shall learn that he can’t trample a man under foot with impunity. + To-morrow two of my friends will call upon him; and if he refuses to + apologize or to give me satisfaction, I’ll cane him.” + </p> + <p> + It was evident enough that M. de Coralth had to exercise considerable + constraint to listen to these fine projects. “I must warn you that you + ought to speak in other terms of an honorable and honored gentleman,” he + interrupted, at last. + </p> + <p> + “Eh! what! You know him then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Madame d’Argeles’s defender is Baron Trigault.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie’s heart bounded with joy, as he heard this name. “Ah! this is + capital!” he exclaimed. “What! So it was Baron Trigault—the noted + gambler—who owns such a magnificent house in the Rue de la Ville + l’Eveque, the husband of that extremely stylish lady, that notorious + cocotte——” + </p> + <p> + The viscount sprang from his chair, and interrupting M. Wilkie: “I advise + you, for the sake of your own safety,” he said, measuring his words to + give them greater weight, “never to mention the Baroness Trigault’s name + except in terms of the most profound respect.” + </p> + <p> + There was no misunderstanding M. de Coralth’s tone, and his glance said + plainly that he would not allow much time to pass before putting his + threat into execution. Having always lived in a lower circle to that in + which the baroness sparkled with such lively brilliancy, M. Wilkie was + ignorant of the reasons that induced his distinguished friend to defend + her so warmly; but he DID understand that it would be highly imprudent to + insist, or even to discuss the matter. So, in his most persuasive manner, + he resumed: “Let us say no more about the wife, but give our attention to + the husband. So it was the baron who insulted me! A duel with him—what + good luck! Well! he may sleep in peace to-night, but as soon as he is up + in the morning he will find Costard and Serpillon on hand. Serpillon has + not an equal as a second. First, he knows the best places for a meeting; + then he lends the combatants weapons when they have none; he procures a + physician; and he is on excellent terms with the journalists, who publish + reports of these encounters.” + </p> + <p> + The viscount had never had a very exalted opinion of Wilkie’s + intelligence, but now he was amazed to see how greatly he had + overestimated it. “Enough of such foolishness,” he interrupted, curtly. + “This duel will never take place.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know who will prevent it?” + </p> + <p> + “I will, if you persist in such an absurd idea. You ought to have sense + enough to know that the baron would kick Serpillon out of the house, and + that you would only cover yourself with ridicule. So, between your duel + and my help make your choice, and quickly.” + </p> + <p> + The prospect of sending his seconds to demand satisfaction from Baron + Trigault was certainly a very attractive one. But, on the other hand, + Wilkie could not afford to dispense with M. de Coralth’s services. “But + the baron has insulted me,” he urged. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can demand satisfaction when you obtain possession of your + property: but the least scandal now would spoil your last chances.” + </p> + <p> + “I will abandon the project, then,” sighed Wilkie, despondently; “but pray + advise me. What do you think of my situation?” + </p> + <p> + M. de Coralth seemed to consider a moment, and then gravely replied: “I + think that, UNASSISTED, you have no chance whatever. You have no standing, + no influential connections, no position—you are not even a + Frenchman.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! that is precisely what I have said to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, I am convinced that with some assistance you might overcome your + mother’s resistance, and even your father’s pretentions.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but where could I find protectors?” + </p> + <p> + The viscount’s gravity seemed to increase. “Listen to me,” said he; “I + will do for you what I would not do for any one else. I will endeavor to + interest in your cause one of my friends, who is all powerful by reason of + his name, his fortune, and his connections—the Marquis de Valorsay, + in fact.” + </p> + <p> + “The one who is so well known upon the turf?” + </p> + <p> + “The same.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will introduce me to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Be ready to-morrow at eleven o’clock, and I will call for you and + take you to his house. If he interests himself in your cause, it is as + good as gained.” And as his companion overwhelmed him with thanks, he + rose, and said: “I must go now. No more foolishness, and be ready + to-morrow at the appointed time.” + </p> + <p> + Thanks to the surprising mutability of temper which was the most striking + characteristic of his nature, M. Wilkie was already consoled for his + blunder. + </p> + <p> + He had received M. de Coralth as an enemy; but he now escorted him to the + door with every obsequious attention—in fact, just as if he looked + upon him as his preserver. A word which the viscount had dropped during + the conversation had considerably helped to bring about this sudden + revulsion of feelings. “You cannot fail to understand that if the Marquis + de Valorsay espouses your cause, you will want for nothing. And if a + lawsuit is unavoidable, he will be perfectly willing to advance the + necessary funds.” How could M. Wilkie lack confidence after that? The + brightest hopes, the most ecstatic visions had succeeded the gloomy + forebodings of a few hours before. The mere thought of being presented to + M. de Valorsay, a nobleman celebrated for his adventures, his horses, and + his fortune, more than sufficed to make him forget his troubles. What + rapture to become that illustrious nobleman’s acquaintance, perhaps his + friend! To move in the same orbit as this star of the first magnitude + which would inevitably cast some of its lustre upon him! Now he would be a + somebody in the world. He felt that he had grown a head taller, and Heaven + only knows with what disdain poor Costard and Serpillon would have been + received had they chanced to present themselves at that moment. + </p> + <p> + It is needless to say that Wilkie dressed with infinite care on the + following morning, no doubt in the hope of making a conquest of the + marquis at first sight. He tried his best to solve the problem of + appearing at the same time most recherche but at ease, excessively elegant + and yet unostentatious; and he devoted himself to the task so unreservedly + that he lost all conception of the flight of time: so that on seeing M. de + Coralth enter his rooms, he exclaimed in unfeigned astonishment: “You here + already?” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to him that barely five minutes had elapsed since he took his + place before the looking-glass to study attitudes and gestures, with a new + and elegant mode of bowing and sitting down, like an actor practising the + effects which are to win him applause. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say ‘already?’” replied the viscount. “I am a quarter of an + hour behind time. Are you not ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us start at once, then; my brougham is outside.” + </p> + <p> + The drive was a silent one. M. Ferdinand de Coralth, whose smooth white + skin would ordinarily have excited the envy of a young girl, did not look + like himself. His face was swollen and covered with blotches, and there + were dark blue circles round his eyes. He seemed, moreover, to be in a + most savage humor. “He hasn’t had sleep enough,” thought M. Wilkie, with + his usual discernment; “he hasn’t a bronze constitution like myself.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie himself was insensible to fatigue, and although he had not + closed his eyes the previous night, he only felt that nervous trepidation + which invariably attacks debutants, and makes the throat so marvellously + dry. For the first, and probably the last time in his life, M. Wilkie + distrusted his own powers, and feared that he was not “quite up to the + mark,” as he elegantly expressed it. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the Marquis de Valorsay’s handsome mansion was not likely to + restore his assurance. When he entered the courtyard, where the master’s + mail-phaeton stood in waiting; when through the open doors of the handsome + stables he espied the many valuable horses neighing in their stalls, and + the numerous carriages shrouded in linen covers; when he counted the + valets on duty in the vestibule, and when he ascended the staircase behind + a lackey attired in a black dress-coat, and as serious in mien as a + notary; when he passed through the handsome drawing-rooms, filled to + overflowing with pictures, armor, statuary, and all the trophies gained by + the marquis’s horses upon the turf, M. Wilkie mentally acknowledged that + he knew nothing of high life, and that what he had considered luxury was + scarcely the shadow of the reality. He felt actually ashamed of his own + ignorance. This feeling of inferiority became so powerful that he was + almost tempted to turn and fly, when the man clothed in black opened the + door and announced, in a clear voice: “M. le Vicomte de Coralth!—M. + Wilkie.” + </p> + <p> + With a most gracious and dignified air—the air of a true GRAND + seigneur—the only portion of his inheritance which he had preserved + intact, the marquis rose to his feet, and, offering his hand to M. de + Coralth, exclaimed: “You are most welcome, viscount. This gentleman is + undoubtedly the young friend you spoke of in the note I received from you + this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “The same; and really he stands greatly in need of your kindness. He finds + himself in an extremely delicate position, and knows no one who can lend + him a helping hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, I will lend him one with pleasure, since he is your friend. But + I must know the circumstances before I can act. Sit down, gentlemen, and + enlighten me.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie had prepared his story in advance, a touching and witty + narrative; but when the moment came to begin it, he found himself unable + to speak. He opened his mouth, but no sound issued from his lips, and it + seemed as if he had been stricken dumb. Accordingly it was M. de Coralth + who made a statement of the case, and he did it well. The narrative thus + gained considerably in clearness and precision; and even M. Wilkie noticed + that his friend understood how to present the events in their most + favorable light, and how to omit them altogether when his heartless + conduct would have appeared too odious. He also noticed—and he + considered it an excellent omen—that M. de Valorsay was listening + with the closest attention. + </p> + <p> + Worthy marquis! if his own interests had been in jeopardy he could not + have appeared more deeply concerned. When the viscount had concluded his + story, he gravely exclaimed: “Your young friend is indeed in a most + critical position, a position from which he cannot escape without being + terribly victimized, if he’s left dependent on his own resources.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is understood that you will help him, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay reflected for a little, and then, addressing M. Wilkie, + replied: “Yes, I consent to assist you, monsieur. First, because your + cause seems to me just, and, also, because you are M. de Coralth’s friend. + I promise you my aid on one condition—that you will follow my advice + implicitly.” + </p> + <p> + The interesting young man lifted his hand, and, by dint of a powerful + effort, he succeeded in articulating: “Anything you wish!—upon my + sacred word!” + </p> + <p> + “You must understand that when I engage in an enterprise, it must not + fail. The eye of the public is upon me, and I have my PRESTIGE to + maintain. I have given you a great mark of confidence, for in lending you + my influence I become, in some measure at least, your sponsor. But I + cannot accept this great responsibility unless I am allowed absolute + control of the affair.” + </p> + <p> + “And I think that we ought to begin operations this very day. The main + thing is to circumvent your father, the terrible man with whom your mother + has threatened you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but how?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall dress at once and go to the Hotel de Chalusse, in order to + ascertain what has occurred there. You on your side must hasten to Madame + d’Argeles and request her politely, but firmly, to furnish you with the + necessary proofs to assert your rights. If she consents, well and good! If + she refuses, we will consult some lawyer as to the next step. In any case, + call here again at four o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + But the thought of meeting Madame d’Argeles again was anything but + pleasing to Wilkie. “I would willingly yield that undertaking to some one + else,” said he. “Cannot some one else go in my place?” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately M. de Coralth knew how to encourage him. “What! are you + afraid?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Afraid! he?—never! It was easy to see that by the way he settled his + hat on his head and went off, slamming the door noisily behind him. + </p> + <p> + “What an idiot!” muttered M. de Coralth. “And to think that there are ten + thousand in Paris built upon the very same plan!” + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay gravely shook his head. “Let us thank fortune that he is as + he is. No youth who possessed either heart or intelligence would play the + part that I intend for him, and enable me to obtain proud Marguerite and + her millions. But I fear he won’t go to Madame d’Argeles’s house. You + noticed his repugnance!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you needn’t trouble yourself in the least on that account—he’ll + go. He would go to the devil if the noble Marquis de Valorsay ordered him + to do so.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Coralth understood Wilkie perfectly. The fear of being considered a + coward by a nobleman like the Marquis de Valorsay was more than + sufficient, not only to divest him of all his scruples, but even to induce + him to commit any act of folly, or actually a crime. For if he had looked + upon M. de Coralth as an oracle, he considered the marquis to be a perfect + god. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, as he hastened toward Madame d’Argeles’s residence, he said + to himself: “Why shouldn’t I go to her house? I’ve done her no injury. + Besides, she won’t eat me.” And remembering that he should be obliged to + render a report of this interview, he resolved to assert his superiority + and to remain cool and unmoved, as he had seen M. de Coralth do so often. + </p> + <p> + However, the unusual aspect of the house excited his surprise, and puzzled + him not a little. Three huge furniture vans, heavily laden, were standing + outside the gate. In the courtyard there were two more vehicles of the + same description, which a dozen men or so were busily engaged in loading. + “Ah, ha!” muttered M. Wilkie, “it was fortunate that I came—very + fortunate; so she was going to run away!” Thereupon, approaching a group + of servants who were in close conference in the hall, he demanded, in his + most imperious manner: “Madame d’Argeles!” + </p> + <p> + The servants remembered the visitor perfectly; they now knew who he really + was, and they could not understand how he could have the impudence and + audacity to come there again so soon after the shameful scene of the + previous evening. “Madame is at home,” replied one of the men, in anything + but a polite tone; “and I will go and see if she will consent to see you. + Wait here.” + </p> + <p> + He went off, leaving M. Wilkie in the vestibule to settle his collar and + twirl his puny mustaches, with affected indifference; but in reality he + was far from comfortable. For the servants did not hesitate to stare at + him, and it was quite impossible not to read their contempt in their + glances. They even sneered audibly and pointed at him; and he heard five + or six epithets more expressive than elegant which could only have been + meant for himself. “The fools!” thought he, boiling with anger. “The + scoundrels! Ah! if I dared. If a gentleman like myself was allowed to + notice such blackguards, how I’d chastise them!” + </p> + <p> + But the valet who had gone to warn Madame d’Argeles soon reappeared and + put an end to his sufferings. “Madame will see you,” said the man, + impudently. “Ah! if I were in her place——” + </p> + <p> + “Come, make haste,” rejoined Wilkie, indignantly, and following the + servant, he was ushered into a room which had already been divested of its + hangings, curtains, and furniture. He here found Madame d’Argeles engaged + in packing a large trunk with household linen and sundry articles of + clothing. + </p> + <p> + By a sort of miracle the unfortunate woman had survived the terrible shock + which had at first threatened to have an immediately fatal effect. Still + she had none the less received her death-blow. It was only necessary to + look at her to be assured of that. She was so greatly changed that when M. + Wilkie’s eyes first fell on her, he asked himself if this were really the + same person whom he had met on the previous evening. Henceforth she would + be an old woman. You would have taken her for over fifty, so terrible had + been the sufferings caused her by the shameful conduct of her son. In this + sad-eyed, haggard-faced woman, clad in black, no one would have recognized + the notorious Lia d’Argeles, who, only the evening before, had driven + round the lake, reclining on the cushions of her victoria, and eclipsing + all the women around her by the splendor of her toilette. Nothing now + remained of the gay worldling but the golden hair which she was condemned + to see always the same, since its tint had been fixed by dyes as indelible + as the stains upon her past. + </p> + <p> + She rose with difficulty when M. Wilkie entered, and in the expressionless + voice of those who are without hope, she asked: “What do you wish of me?” + </p> + <p> + As usual, when the time came to carry out his happiest conceptions, his + courage failed him. “I came to talk about our affairs, you know,” he + replied, “and I find you moving.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not moving.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! you can’t make me believe that! What’s the meaning of these + carts in the courtyard?” + </p> + <p> + “They are here to convey all the furniture in the house to the + auction-rooms.” + </p> + <p> + Wilkie was struck dumb for a moment, but eventually recovering himself a + little, he exclaimed: “What! you are going to sell everything?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Astonishing, upon my honor! But afterward?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall leave Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! and where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + With a gesture of utter indifference, she gently replied: “I don’t know; I + shall go where no one will know me, and where it will be possible for me + to hide my shame.” + </p> + <p> + A terrible disquietude seized hold of Wilkie. This sudden change of + residence, this departure which so strongly resembled flight, this cold + greeting when he expected passionate reproaches, seemed to indicate that + Madame d’Argeles’s resolution would successfully resist any amount of + entreaty on his part. “The devil,” he remarked, “I don’t think this at all + pleasant! What is to become of me? How am I to obtain possession of the + Count de Chalusse’s estate? That’s what I am after! It’s rightfully mine, + and I’m determined to have it, as I told you once before. And when I’ve + once taken anything into my head——” + </p> + <p> + He paused, for he could no longer face the scornful glances that Madame + d’Argeles was giving him. “Don’t be alarmed,” she replied bitterly, “I + shall leave you the means of asserting your right to my parents’ estate.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah—so——” + </p> + <p> + “Your threats obliged me to decide contrary to my own wishes. I felt that + no amount of slander or disgrace would daunt you.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not, when so many millions are at stake.” + </p> + <p> + “I reflected, and I saw that nothing would arrest you upon your downward + path except a large fortune. If you were poor and compelled to earn your + daily bread—a task which you are probably incapable of performing—who + can tell what depths of degradation you might descend to? With your + instincts and your vices, who knows what crime you wouldn’t commit to + obtain money? It wouldn’t be long before you were in the dock, and I + should hear of you only through your disgrace. But, on the other hand, if + you were rich, you would probably lead an honest life, like many others, + who, wanting for nothing, are not tempted to do wrong, who, in fact, show + virtue in which there is nothing worthy of praise. For real virtue implies + temptation—a struggle and victory.” + </p> + <p> + Although he did not understand these remarks very well, M. Wilkie evinced + a desire to offer some objections; but Madame d’Argeles had already + resumed: “So I went to my notary this morning. I told him everything; and + by this time my renunciation of my rights to the estate of the Count de + Chalusse is already recorded.” + </p> + <p> + “What! your renunciation. Oh! no.” + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to finish since you don’t understand me. As soon as I renounce + the inheritance it becomes yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Truly?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no wish to deceive you. I only desire that the name of Lia + d’Argeles should not be mentioned. I will give you the necessary proofs to + establish your identity; my marriage contract and your certificate of + birth.” + </p> + <p> + It was joy that made M. Wilkie speechless now. “And when will you give me + these documents?” he faltered, after a short pause. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have them before you leave this house; but first of all I must + talk with you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. + </h2> + <p> + Agitated and excited though he was, M. Wilkie had not once ceased to think + of M. de Coralth and the Marquis de Valorsay. What would they do in such a + position, and how should he act to conform himself to the probable example + of these models of deportment? Manifestly he ought to assume that stolid + and insolent air of boredom which is considered a sure indication of birth + and breeding. Convinced of this, and seized with a laudable desire to + emulate such distinguished examples, he had perched himself upon a trunk, + where he still sat with his legs crossed. He now pretended to suppress a + yawn, as he growled, “What! some more long phrases—and another + melodramatic display?” + </p> + <p> + Absorbed in the memories she had invoked, Madame d’Argeles paid no heed to + Wilkie’s impertinence. “Yes, I must talk with you,” she said, “and more + for your sake than for my own. I must tell you who I am, and through what + strange vicissitudes I have passed. You know what family I belong to. I + will tell you, however—for you may be ignorant of the fact—that + our house is the equal of any in France in lineage, splendor of alliance, + and fortune. When I was a child, my parents lived at the Hotel de + Chalusse, in the Faubourg Saint Germain, a perfect palace, surrounded by + one of those immense gardens, which are no longer seen in Paris—a + real park, shaded with century-old trees. Certainly everything that money + could procure, or vanity desire, was within my reach; and yet my youth was + wretchedly unhappy. I scarcely knew my father, who was devoured by + ambition, and had thrown himself body and soul into the vortex of + politics. Either my mother did not love me, or thought it beneath her + dignity to make any display of sensibility; but at all events her reserve + had raised a wall of ice between herself and me. As for my brother he was + too much engrossed in pleasure to think of a mere child. So I lived quite + alone, too proud to accept the love and friendship of my inferiors—abandoned + to the dangerous inspirations of solitude, and with no other consolation + than my books—books which had been chosen for me by my mother’s + confessor, and which were calculated to fill my imagination with visionary + and romantic fancies. The only conversation I heard dealt with the means + of leaving all the family fortune to my brother, so that he might uphold + the splendor of the name, and with the necessity of marrying me to some + superannuated nobleman who would take me without a dowry, or of compelling + me to enter one of those aristocratic convents, which are the refuge, and + often the prison, of poor girls of noble birth. + </p> + <p> + “I do not pretend to justify my fault, I am only explaining it. I thought + myself the most unfortunate being in the world—and such I really + was, since I honestly believed it—when I happened to meet Arthur + Gordon, your father. I saw him for the first time at a fete given at the + house of the Comte de Commarin. How he, a mere adventurer, had succeeded + in forcing his way into the most exclusive society in the world, is a + point which I have never been able to explain. But, alas! it is only too + true that when our glances met for the first time, my heart was stirred to + its inmost depths; I felt that it was no longer mine—that I was no + longer free! Ah! why does not God allow a man’s face to reflect at least + something of his nature? This man, who was a corrupt and audacious + hypocrite, had that air of apparent nobility and frankness which inspires + you with unlimited confidence, and the melancholy expression on his + features seemed to indicate that he had known sorrow, and had good cause + to rail at destiny. In his whole appearance there was certainly a + mysterious and fatal charm. I afterward learned that this was only a + natural result of the wild life he had led. He was only twenty-six, and he + had already been the commander of a slave ship, and had fought in Mexico + at the head of one of those guerilla bands which make politics an excuse + for pillage and murder. He divined only too well the impression he had + made upon my heart. I met him twice afterward in society. He did not speak + to me; he even pretended to avoid me, but standing a little on one side, + he watched my every movement with burning eyes in which I fancied I could + read a passion as absorbing as my own. At last he ventured to write to me. + The moment a letter addressed to me in an unknown hand was covertly handed + me by my maid, I divined that it came from him. I was frightened, and my + first impulse was to take it, not to my mother—whom I regarded as my + natural enemy—but to my father. However, he chanced to be absent; I + kept the letter, I read it, I answered it—and he wrote again. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! from that moment my conduct was inexcusable. I knew that it was + worse than a fault to continue this clandestine correspondence. I knew my + parents would never give my hand in marriage to a man who was not of noble + birth. I knew that I was risking my reputation, the spotless honor of our + house, my happiness, and life! Still I persisted—I was possessed + with a strange madness that made me ready to brave every danger. Besides, + he gave me no time to breathe, or reflect. Everywhere, constantly, every + instant, he compelled me to think of him. By some miracle of address and + audacity, he had discovered a means of intruding upon my presence, even in + my father’s house. For instance, every morning I found the vases in my + room full of choice flowers, though I was never able to discover what + hands had placed them there. Ah! how can one help believing in an + omnipresent passion which one inhales with the very air one breathes! How + can one resist it? + </p> + <p> + “I only discovered Arthur Gordon’s object when it was too late. He had + come to Paris with the fixed determination of trapping some rich heiress, + and forcing her family to give her to him with a large dowry, after one of + those disgraceful scandals which render a marriage inevitable. At the very + same time he was pursuing two other rich young girls, persuaded that one + of the three would certainly become his victim. + </p> + <p> + “I was the first to yield. One of those unforeseen events which are the + work of Providence, was destined to decide my fate. Several times, + already, in compliance with Arthur’s urgent entreaties, I had met him at + night time in a little pavilion in our garden. This pavilion contained a + billiard-room and a spacious gallery in which my brother practised fencing + and pistol shooting with his masters and friends. There, thanks to the + liberty I enjoyed, we thought ourselves perfectly secure from observation, + and we were imprudent enough to light the candles. One night when I had + just joined Arthur in the pavilion, I thought I heard the sound of hoarse, + heavy breathing behind me. I turned round in a fright and saw my brother + standing on the threshold. Oh! then I realized how guilty I had been! I + felt that one or the other of these two men—my lover or my brother—would + not leave that room alive. + </p> + <p> + “I tried to speak, to throw myself between them, but I found I could + neither speak nor move; it was as if I had been turned to stone. Nor did + they exchange a word at first. But at last my brother drew two swords from + their scabbards, and throwing one at Arthur’s feet, exclaimed: ‘I have no + wish to assassinate you. Defend yourself, and save your life if you can!’ + And as Arthur hesitated, and seemed to be trying to gain time instead of + picking up the weapon that was lying on the floor near him, my brother + struck him in the face with the flat side of his sword, and cried: ‘Now + will you fight, you coward! In an instant it was all over. Arthur caught + up the sword, and springing upon my brother, disarmed him, and wounded him + in the breast. I saw this. I saw the blood spurt out upon my lover’s + hands. I saw my brother stagger, beat the air wildly with his hands, and + fall apparently lifeless to the floor. Then I, too, lost consciousness and + fell!” + </p> + <p> + Any one who had seen Madame d’Argeles as she stood there recoiling in + horror, with her features contracted, and her eyes dilated, would have + realized that by strength of will she had dispelled the mists enshrouding + the past, and distinctly beheld the scene she was describing. She seemed + to experience anew the same agony of terror she had felt twenty years + before; and this lent such poignant intensity to the interest of her + narrative that if M. Wilkie’s heart was not exactly touched, he was, as he + afterward confessed, at least rather interested. But Madame d’Argeles + seemed to have forgotten his existence. She wiped away the foam-flecked + blood which had risen to her lips, and in the same mournful voice resumed + her story. + </p> + <p> + “When I regained my senses it was morning, and I was lying, still dressed, + on a bed in a strange room. Arthur Gordon was standing at the foot of the + bed anxiously watching my movements. He did not give me time to question + him. ‘You are in my house,’ said he. ‘Your brother is dead!’ Almighty God! + I thought I should die as well. I hoped so. I prayed for death. But, in + spite of my sobs, he pitilessly continued: ‘It is a terrible misfortune + which I shall never cease to regret. And yet, it was his own fault. You, + who witnessed the scene, know that it was so. You can still see on my face + the mark of the blow he dealt me. I only defended myself and you.’ I was + ignorant then of the accepted code of duelling. I did not know that by + throwing himself upon my brother before he was on guard, Arthur Gordon had + virtually assassinated him. He relied upon my ignorance for the success of + the sinister farce he was playing. ‘When I saw your brother fall,’ he + continued, ‘I was wild with terror; and not knowing what I did, I caught + you up in my arms and brought you here. But don’t tremble, I know that you + are not in my house of your own free will. A carriage is below and awaits + your orders to convey you to your parents’ home. It will be easy to find + an explanation for last night’s catastrophe. Slander will not venture to + attack such a family as yours.’ He spoke in the constrained tone, and with + that air which a brave man, condemned to death, would assume in giving + utterance to his last wishes. I felt as if I were going mad. ‘And you!’ I + exclaimed, ‘you! What will become of you?’ He shook his head, and with a + look of anguish, replied: ‘Me! What does it matter about me! I am ruined + undoubtedly. So much the better. Nothing matters now that I must live + apart from you’! Ah! he knew my heart. He knew his power! Swayed by an + emotion which was madness rather than heroism, I sprang toward him, and + clasped him in my arms: ‘Then I, too, am lost!’ I cried. ‘Since fate + united us, nothing but death shall separate us. I love you. I am your + accomplice. Let the curse fall upon both!’ + </p> + <p> + “A keen observer would certainly have detected a gleam of fiendish joy in + his eyes. But he protested, or pretended to protest. With feigned energy + he refused to accept such a sacrifice. He could not link my destiny to + his, for misery had ever been his lot; and now that this last and most + terrible misfortune had overtaken him, he was more than ever convinced + that there was a curse hanging over him! He would not suffer me to bring + misery upon myself, and eternal remorse upon him. But the more he repulsed + me, the more obstinately I clung to him. The more forcibly he showed the + horror of the sacrifice, the more I was convinced that my honor compelled + me to make it. So at last he yielded, or seemed to yield, with transports + of gratitude and love. ‘Well! yes, I accept your sacrifice, my darling!’ + he exclaimed. ‘I accept it; and before the God who is looking down upon + us, I swear that I will do all that is in human power to repay such + sublime and marvellous devotion.’ And, bending over me, he printed a kiss + upon my forehead. ‘But we must fly!’ he resumed, quickly. ‘I have my + happiness to defend now! I will not suffer any one to discover us and + separate us now. We must start at once, without losing a moment, and gain + my native land, America. There, we shall be safe. For rest assured they + will search for us. Who knows but even now the officers of the law are + upon our track? Your family is all-powerful—I am a mere nobody—we + should be crushed if they discover us. They would bury you in a gloomy + cloister, and I should be tried as a common thief, or as a vile assassin.’ + My only answer was: ‘Let us go! Let us go at once!’ + </p> + <p> + “It had been easy for him to foresee what the result of this interview + would be. A vehicle was indeed waiting at the door, but not for the + purpose of conveying me to the Hotel de Chalusse—as was proved + conclusively by the fact that his trunks were already strapped upon it. + Besides, the coachman must have received his instructions in advance for + he drove us straight to the Havre Railway station without a word. It was + not until some months afterward that these trifles, which entirely escaped + my notice at the time, opened my eyes to the truth. When we reached the + station we found a train ready to start, and we took our places in it. I + tried to quiet my conscience with miserable sophistries. Remembering that + God has said to woman: To follow thy husband thou shalt abandon all else, + native land, paternal home, parents and friends, I told myself that this + was the husband whom my heart had instinctively chosen, and that it was my + duty to follow him and share his destiny. And thus I fled with him, + although I thought I left a corpse behind me—the corpse of my only + brother.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie was actually so much interested that he forgot his anxiety + concerning his attitude, and no longer thought of M. de Coralth and the + Marquis de Valorsay. He even sprang up, and exclaimed: “Amazing!” + </p> + <p> + But Madame d’Argeles had already resumed: “Such was my great, inexcusable, + irreparable fault. I have told you the whole truth, without trying either + to conceal or justify anything. Listen to my chastisement! On our arrival + at Le Havre the next day, Arthur confessed that he was greatly embarrassed + financially. Owing to our precipitate flight, he had not had time to + realize the property he possessed—at least so he told me—a + banker, on whom he had depended, had moreover failed him, and he had not + sufficient money to pay our passage to New York. This amazed me. My + education had been absurd, like that of most young girls in my station. I + knew nothing of real life, of its requirements and difficulties. I knew, + of course, that there were rich people and poor people, that money was a + necessity, and that those who did not possess it would stoop to any + meanness to obtain it. But all this was not very clear in my mind, and I + never suspected that a few francs more or less would be a matter of vital + importance. So I was not in the least prepared for the request to which + this confession served as preface, and Arthur Gordon was obliged to ask me + point-blank if I did not happen to have some money about me, or some + jewelry which could be converted into money. I gave him all I had, my + purse containing a few louis, a ring and a necklace, with a handsome + diamond cross attached to it. However, the total value was comparatively + small, and such was Arthur’s disappointment that he made a remark which + frightened me even then, though I did not fully understand its shameful + meaning until afterward: ‘A woman who repairs to a rendezvous should + always have all the valuables she possesses about her. One never knows + what may happen.’ + </p> + <p> + “Want of money was keeping us prisoners at Le Havre, when Arthur Gordon + chanced to meet an old acquaintance, who was the captain of an American + sailing vessel. He confided his embarrassment to his friend, and the + latter, whose vessel was to sail at the end of the same week, kindly + offered us a free passage. The voyage was one long torture to me, for it + was then that I first served my apprenticeship in shame and disgrace. By + the captain’s offensive gallantry, the lower officers’ familiarity of + manner, and the sailors’ ironical glances whenever I appeared on deck, I + saw that my position was a secret for no one. Everybody knew that I was + the mistress and not the wife of the man whom I called my husband: and, + without being really conscious of it, perhaps, they made me cruelly + expiate my fault. Moreover, reason had regained its ascendency, my eyes + were gradually opening to the truth, and I was beginning to learn the real + character of the scoundrel for whom I had sacrificed all that makes life + desirable. + </p> + <p> + “Not that he had wholly ceased to practise dissimulation. But after the + evening meal he often lingered at table smoking and drinking with his + friend the captain, and when he joined me afterward, heated with alcohol, + he shocked me by advocating theories which were both novel and repulsive + to me. Once, after drinking more than usual, he entirely forgot his + assumed part, and revealed himself in his true character. He declared he + bitterly regretted that our love affair had ended so disastrously. It was + deplorable to think that so happily conceived and so skilfully conducted a + scheme should have terminated in bloodshed. And the blow had fallen just + as he fancied he had reached the goal; just as he thought he would reap + the reward of his labor. In a few weeks’ more time he would undoubtedly + have gained sufficient influence over me to persuade me to elope with him. + This would, of course, have caused a great scandal; the next day there + would have been a family conclave; a compromise would have been effected, + and finally, a marriage arranged with a large dowry, to hush up the + affair. ‘And I should now be a rich man,’ he added, ‘a very rich man—I + should be rolling through the streets of Paris in my carriage, instead of + being on board this cursed ship, eating salt cod twice a day, and living + on charity.’ + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it was no longer possible to doubt. The truth was as clear as + daylight. I had never been loved, not even an hour, not even a moment. The + loving letters which had blinded me, the protestations of affection which + had deceived me, had been addressed to my father’s millions, not to + myself. And not unfrequently I saw Arthur Gordon’s face darken, as he + talked with evident anxiety about what he could do to earn a living for + himself and me in America. ‘I have had trouble enough to get on alone,’ he + grumbled. ‘What will it be now? To burden myself with a penniless wife! + What egregious folly! And yet I couldn’t have acted differently—I + was compelled to do it.’ Why had he been compelled to do it? why had he + not acted differently?—that was what I vainly puzzled my brain to + explain. However, his gloomy fears of poverty were not realized. A + delightful surprise awaited him at New York. A relative had recently died, + leaving him a legacy of fifty thousand dollars—a small fortune. I + hoped that he would now cease his constant complaints, but he seemed even + more displeased than before. ‘Such is the irony of fate,’ he repeated + again and again. ‘With this money, I might easily have married a wife + worth a hundred thousand dollars, and then I should be rich at last!’ + After that, I had good reason to expect that I should soon be forsaken—but + no, shortly after our arrival, he married me. Had he done so out of + respect for his word? I believed so. But, alas! this marriage was the + result of calculation, like everything else he did. + </p> + <p> + “We were living in New York, when one evening he came home, looking very + pale and agitated. He had a French newspaper in his hand. ‘Read this,’ he + said, handing it to me. I took the paper as he bade me, and read that my + brother had not been killed, that he was improving, and that his recovery + was now certain. And as I fell on my knees, bursting into tears, and + thanking God for freeing me from such terrible remorse, he exclaimed: ‘We + are in a nice fix! I advise you to congratulate yourself! ‘From that time + forward, I noticed he displayed the feverish anxiety of a man who feels + that he is constantly threatened with some great danger. A few days + afterward, he said to me: ‘I cannot endure this! Have our trunks ready + to-morrow, and we will start South. Instead of calling ourselves Gordon, + we’ll travel under the name of Grant.’ I did not venture to question him. + He had quite mastered me by his cruel tyranny, and I was accustomed to + obey him like a slave in terror of the lash. However, during our long + journey, I learned the cause of our flight and change of name. + </p> + <p> + “‘Your brother, d—n him,’ he said, one day, ‘is hunting for me + everywhere! He wants to kill me or to deliver me up to justice, I don’t + know which. He pretends that I tried to murder him!’ It was strange; but + Arthur Gordon, who was bravery personified, and who exposed himself again + and again to the most frightful dangers, felt a wild, unreasoning, + inconceivable fear of my brother. It was this dread that had decided him + to burden himself with me. He feared that if he left me, lying unconscious + beside my brother’s lifeless form, I might on recovering my senses reveal + the truth, and unconsciously act as his accuser. You were born in + Richmond, Wilkie, where we remained nearly a month, during which time I + saw but little of your father. He had formed the acquaintance of several + rich planters, and spent his time hunting and gambling with them. + Unfortunately, fifty thousand dollars could not last long at this rate; + and, in spite of his skill as a gambler, he returned home one morning + ruined. A fortnight later when he had sold our effects, and borrowed all + the money he could, we embarked again for France. It was not until we + reached Paris that I discovered the reasons that had influenced him in + returning to Europe. He had heard of my father and mother’s death, and + intended to compel me to claim my share of the property. He dared not + appear in person on account of my brother. At last the hour of my + vengeance had arrived; for I had taken a solemn oath that this scoundrel + who had ruined me should never enjoy the fortune which had been his only + object in seducing me. I had sworn to die inch by inch and by the most + frightful tortures rather than give him one penny of the Chalusse + millions. And I kept my word. + </p> + <p> + “When I told him that I was resolved not to assert my rights, he seemed + utterly confounded. He could not understand how the down-trodden slave + dared to revolt against him. And when he found that my decision was + irrevocable, I thought he would have an attack of apoplexy. It made him + wild with rage to think that he was only separated from this immense + fortune—the dream of his life—by a single word of mine, and to + find that he had not the power to extort that word from me. Then began a + struggle between us, which became more and more frightful as the money he + possessed gradually dwindled away. But it was in vain that he resorted to + brutal treatment; in vain that he struck me, tortured me, and dragged me + about the floor by the hair of my head! The thought that I was avenged, + that his sufferings equalled mine, increased my courage a hundredfold, and + made me almost insensible to physical pain. He would certainly have been + the first to grow weary of the struggle, if a fiendish plan had not + occurred to him. He said to himself that if he could not conquer the wife, + he COULD conquer the mother and he threatened to turn his brutality to + you, Wilkie. To save you—for I knew what he was capable of—I + pretended to waver, and I asked twenty-four hours for reflection. He + granted them. But the next day I left him forever, flying from him with + you in my arms.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie turned white, and a cold chill crept up his spine. However, it + was not pity for his mother’s sufferings, nor shame for his father’s + infamy that agitated him, but ever the same terrible fear of incurring the + enmity of this dangerous coveter of the Chalusse millions. Would he be + able to hold his father at bay even with the assistance of M. de Coralth + and the Marquis de Valorsay? A thousand questions rose to his lips, for he + was eager to hear the particulars of his mother’s flight; but Madame + d’Argeles hurried on with her story as if she feared her strength would + fail before she reached the end. + </p> + <p> + “I was alone with you, Wilkie, in this great city,” she resumed. “A + hundred francs was all that I possessed. My first care was to find a place + of shelter. For sixteen francs a month, which I was compelled to pay in + advance, I found a small, meagrely furnished room in the Faubourg Saint + Martin. It was badly ventilated and miserably lighted, but still it was + shelter. I said to myself that we could live there together by my work, + Wilkie. I was a proficient in feminine accomplishments; I was an excellent + musician, and I thought I should have no difficulty in earning the four or + five francs a day which I considered absolutely necessary for our + subsistence. Alas! I discovered only too soon what chimerical hopes I had + cherished. To give music lessons it is necessary to obtain pupils. Where + should I find them? I had no one to recommend me, and I scarcely dared + show myself in the streets, so great was my fear that your father would + discover our hiding-place. At last, I decided to try to find some + employment in needlework, and timidly offered my services at several + shops. Alas! it is only those who have gone about from door to door + soliciting work who know the misery of the thing. To ask alms would be + scarcely more humiliating. People sneered at me, and replied (when they + deigned to reply at all) that ‘there was no business doing, and they had + all the help they wanted.’ My evident inexperience was probably the cause + of many of these refusals, as well as my attire, for I still had the + appearance of being a rich woman. Who knows what they took me for? Still + the thought of you sustained me, Wilkie, and nothing daunted me. + </p> + <p> + “I finally succeeded in obtaining some bands of muslin to embroider, and + some pieces of tapestry work to fill in. Unremunerative employment, no + doubt, especially to one ignorant of the art of working quickly, rather + than well. By rising with daylight, and working until late at night, I + scarcely succeeded in earning twenty sous a day. And it was not long + before even this scanty resource failed me. Winter came, and the cold + weather with it. One morning I changed my last five-franc piece—it + lasted us a week. Then I pawned and sold everything that was not + absolutely indispensable until nothing was left me but my patched dress + and a single skirt. And soon an evening came when the owner of our + miserable den turned us into the street because I could no longer pay the + rent. + </p> + <p> + “This was the final blow! I tottered away, clinging to the walls for + support; too weak from lack of food to carry you. The rain was falling, + and chilled us to the bones. You were crying bitterly. And all that night + and all the next day, aimless and hopeless, we wandered about the streets. + I must either die of want or return to your father. I preferred death. + Toward evening—instinct having led me to the Seine—I sat down + on one of the stone benches of the Point-Neuf, holding you on my knees and + watching the flow of the dark river below. There was a strange fascination—a + promise of peace in its depths—that impelled me almost irresistibly + to plunge into the flood. If I had been alone in the world, I should not + have stopped to consider a second, but on your account, Wilkie, I + hesitated.” + </p> + <p> + Moved by the thought of the danger he had escaped, M. Wilkie shuddered. + “B-r-r-r!” he growled. “You did well to hesitate.” + </p> + <p> + She did not even hear him, but continued: “I at last decided that it was + best to put an end to this misery, and rising with difficulty, I was + approaching the parapet, when a gruff voice beside us exclaimed: ‘What are + you doing there?’ I turned, thinking some police officer had spoken, but I + was mistaken. By the light of the street lamp, I perceived a man who + looked some thirty years of age, and had a frank and rather genial face. + Why this stranger instantly inspired me with unlimited confidence I don’t + know. Perhaps it was an unconscious horror of death that made me long for + any token of human sympathy. However it may have been, I told him my + story, but not without changing the names, and omitting many particulars. + He had taken a seat beside me on the bench, and I saw big tears roll down + his cheeks as I proceeded with my narrative. ‘It is ever so! it is ever + so!’ he muttered. ‘To love is to incur the risk of martyrdom. It is to + offer one’s self as a victim to every perfidy, to the basest treason and + ingratitude.’ The man who spoke in this fashion was Baron Trigault. He did + not allow me to finish my story. ‘Enough!’ he suddenly exclaimed, ‘follow + me!’ A cab was passing, he made us get in, and an hour later we were in a + comfortable room, beside a blazing fire, with a generously spread table + before us. The next day, moreover, we were installed in a pleasant home. + Alas! why wasn’t the baron generous to the last? You were saved, Wilkie, + but at what a price!” + </p> + <p> + She paused for a moment, her face redder than fire; but soon mastering her + agitation, she resumed: “There was one great cause of dissension between + the baron and myself. I wished you to be educated, Wilkie, like the son of + a noble family, while he desired you should receive the practical training + suited to a youth who would have to make his own way in the world, and win + position, fortune, and even name for himself. Ah! he was a thousand times + right, as events have since proved only too well! But maternal love + blinded me, and, after an angry discussion, he went away, declaring he + would not see me again until I became more reasonable. He thought that + reflection would cure me of my folly. Unfortunately, he was not acquainted + with the fatal obstinacy which is the distinguishing characteristic of the + Chalusse family. While I was wondering how I could find the means of + carrying the plans I had formed for you into execution, two of the baron’s + acquaintances presented themselves, with the following proposal: Aware of + the enormous profits derived by clandestine gambling dens, they had + conceived the project of opening a public establishment on a large scale, + where any Parisian or foreigner, if he seemed to be a gentleman, and + possessed of means, would find no difficulty in obtaining admission. By + taking certain precautions, and by establishing this gambling den in a + private drawing-room, they believed the scheme practicable, and came to + suggest that I should keep the drawing-room in question, and be their + partner in the enterprise. Scarcely knowing what I pledged myself to, I + accepted their offer, influenced—I should rather say decided—by + the exalted positions which both these gentlemen occupied, by the public + consideration they enjoyed, and the honored names they bore. And that same + week this house was rented and furnished, and I was installed in it under + the name of Lia d’Argeles. + </p> + <p> + “But this was not all. There still remained the task of creating for + myself one of those scandalous reputations that attract public attention. + This proved an easy task, thanks to the assistance of my silent partners, + and the innocent simplicity of several of their friends and certain + journalists. As for myself, I did my best to insure the success of the + horrible farce which was to lend infamous notoriety to the name of Lia + d’Argeles. I had magnificent equipages and superb dresses, and I made + myself conspicuous at the theatres and all places of public resort. As is + generally the case when one is acting contrary to conscience, I called the + most absurd sophistries to my assistance. I tried to convince myself that + appearances are nothing, that reality is everything, and that it did not + matter if I were known as a courtesan since rumor lied, and my life WAS + really chaste. When the baron hastened to me and tried to rescue me from + the abyss into which I had flung myself; it was too late. I had discovered + that the business would prove successful; and for your sake, I longed for + money as passionately, as madly, as any miser. Last year my gaming-room + yielded more than one hundred and fifty thousand francs clear profit, and + I received as my share the thirty-five thousand francs which you + squandered. Now you know me as I really am. My associates, my partners, + the men whose secret I have faithfully kept, walk the streets with their + heads erect. They boast of their unsullied honor, and they are respected + by every one. Such is the truth, and I have no reason to make their + disgrace known. Besides, if I proclaimed it from the house-tops, no one + would believe me. But you are my son, and I owe you the truth, the whole + truth!” + </p> + <p> + In any age but the present, Madame d’Argeles’s story would have seemed + absolutely incredible. Nowadays, however, such episodes are by no means + rare. Two men—two men of exalted rank and highly respected, to use a + common expression—associate in opening a gaming-house under the very + eyes of the police, and in coining money out of a woman’s supposed + disgrace. ‘Tis after all but an everyday occurrence. + </p> + <p> + The unhappy woman had told her story with apparent coldness, and yet, in + her secret heart, she perhaps hoped that by disclosing her terrible + sacrifice and long martyrdom, she would draw a burst of gratitude and + tenderness from her son, calculated to repay her for all her sufferings. + But the hope was vain. It would have been easier to draw water from a + solid rock than to, extract a sympathetic tear from Wilkie’s eyes. He was + only alive to the practical side of this narrative, and what impressed him + most was the impudent assurance of Madame d’Argeles’s business associates. + “Not a bad idea; not bad at all,” he exclaimed. And, boiling over with + curiosity, he continued: “I would give something handsome to know those + men’s names. Really you ought to tell me. It would be worth one’s while to + know.” + </p> + <p> + Any other person than this interesting young man would have been crushed + by the look his mother gave him—a look embodying the deepest + disappointment and contempt. “I think you must be mad,” she remarked + coldly. And as he sprang up, astonished that any one should doubt his + abundant supply of good sense, “Let us put an end to this,” she sternly + added. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon she hastily went into the adjoining room, reappearing a moment + later with a roll of papers in her hand. “Here,” she remarked, “is my + marriage certificate, your certificate of birth, and a copy of my + renunciation—a perfectly valid document, since the court has + authorized it, owing to my husband’s absence. All these proofs I am ready + and willing to place at your disposal, but on one condition.” + </p> + <p> + This last word fell like a cold shower-bath upon Wilkie’s exultant joy. + “What is this condition?” he anxiously inquired. + </p> + <p> + “It is that you should sign this deed, which has been drawn up by my + notary—a deed by which you pledge yourself to hand me the sum of two + million francs on the day you come into possession of the Chalusse + property.” + </p> + <p> + Two millions! The immensity of the sum struck Wilkie dumb with + consternation. Nor did he forget that he would be compelled to give the + Viscount de Coralth the large reward he had promised him—a reward + promised in writing, unfortunately. “I shall have nothing left,” he began, + piteously. + </p> + <p> + But with a disdainful gesture Madame d’Argeles interrupted him. “Set your + mind at rest,” said she. “You will still be immensely rich. All the + estimates which have been made are far below the mark. When I was a girl I + often heard my father say that his income amounted to more than eight + hundred thousand francs a year. My brother inherited the whole property, + and I would be willing to swear that he never spent more than half of his + income.” + </p> + <p> + Wilkie’s nerves had never been subjected to so severe a shock. He tottered + and his brain whirled. “Oh! oh!” he stammered. This was all he could say. + </p> + <p> + “Only I must warn you of a more than probable deception,” pursued Madame + d’Argeles. “As my brother was firmly resolved to deprive me even of my + rightful portion of the estate, he concealed his fortune in every possible + way. It will undoubtedly require considerable time and trouble to gain + possession of the whole. However I know a man, formerly the Count de + Chalusse’s confidential agent, who might aid you in this task.” + </p> + <p> + “And this man’s name?” + </p> + <p> + “Is Isidore Fortunat. I saved his card for you. Here it is.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie took it up, placed it carefully in his pocket, and then + exclaimed: “That being the case, I consent to sign, but after this you + need not complain. Two millions at five per cent. ought to greatly + alleviate one’s sufferings.” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles did not deign to notice this delicate irony. “I will tell + you in advance to what purpose I intend to apply this sum,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “I intend one of these two millions to serve as the dowry of a young girl + who would have been the Count de Chalusse’s sole legatee, if his death had + not been so sudden and so unexpected.” + </p> + <p> + “And the other one?” + </p> + <p> + “The other I intend to invest for you in such a way that you can only + touch the interest of it, so that you will not want for bread after you + have squandered your inheritance, even to the very last penny.” + </p> + <p> + This wise precaution could not fail to shock such a brilliant young man as + M. Wilkie. “Do you take me for a fool?” he exclaimed. “I may appear very + generous, but I am shrewd enough, never you fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Sign,” interrupted Madame d’Argeles, coldly. + </p> + <p> + But he attempted to prove that he was no fool by reading and rereading the + contract before he would consent to append his name to it. At last, + however, he did so, and stowed away the proofs which insured him the + much-coveted property. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Madame d’Argeles, “I have one request to make of you. Whenever + your father makes his appearance and lays claim to this fortune, I entreat + you to avoid a lawsuit, which would only make your mother’s shame and the + disgrace attached to the hitherto stainless name of Chalusse still more + widely known. Compromise with him. You will be rich enough to satisfy his + greed without feeling it.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie remained silent for a moment, as if he were deliberating upon + the course he ought to pursue. “If my father is reasonable, I will be the + same,” he said at last. “I will choose as an arbiter between us one of my + friends—a man who acts on the square, like myself—the Marquis + de Valorsay.” + </p> + <p> + “My God! do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “He is one of my most intimate friends.” + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Argeles had become very pale. “Wretched boy!” she exclaimed. “You + don’t know that it’s the marquis——” She paused abruptly. One + word more and she would have betrayed Pascal Ferailleur’s secret plans, + with which she had been made acquainted by Baron Trigault. Had she a right + to do this, even to put her son on his guard against a man whom she + considered the greatest villain in the world? + </p> + <p> + “Well?” insisted M. Wilkie, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + But Madame d’Argeles had recovered her self-possession. “I only wished to + warn you against too close a connection with the Marquis de Valorsay. He + has an excellent position in society, but yours will be far more + brilliant. His star is on the wane; yours is just rising. All that he is + regretting, you have a right to hope for. Perhaps even now he is jealous + of you, and wishes to persuade you to take some false step.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you little know him!” + </p> + <p> + “I have warned you.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie took up his hat, but, though he was longing to depart, + embarrassment kept him to the spot. He vaguely felt that he ought not to + leave his mother in this style. “I hope I shall soon have some good news + to bring you,” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Before night I shall have left this house,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Of course. But you are going to give me your new address.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What?—No!” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head sadly, and in a scarcely audible voice responded: “It + is not likely that we shall meet again.” + </p> + <p> + “And the two millions that I am to turn over to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Patterson will collect the money. As for me, say to yourself that I’m + dead. You have broken the only link that bound me to life, by proving the + futility of the most terrible sacrifices. However, I am a mother, and I + forgive you.” Then as he did not move, and as she felt that her strength + was deserting her, she dragged herself from the room, murmuring, + “Farewell!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. + </h2> + <p> + Stupefied with astonishment, M. Wilkie stood for a moment silent and + motionless. “Allow me,” he faltered at last; “Allow me—I wish to + explain.” But Madame d’Argeles did not even turn her head; the door closed + behind her and he was left alone. + </p> + <p> + However strong a man’s nature may be, he always has certain moments of + weakness. For instance, at the present moment Wilkie was completely at a + loss what to do. Not that he repented, he was incapable of that; but there + are hours when the most hardened conscience is touched, and when long + dormant instincts at last assert their rights. If he had obeyed his first + impulse, he would have darted after his mother and thrown himself on his + knees before her. But reflection, remembrance of the Viscount de Coralth, + and the Marquis de Valorsay, made him silent the noblest voice that had + spoken in his soul for many a long day. So, with his head proudly erect, + he went off, twirling his mustaches and followed by the whispers of the + servants—whispers which were ready to change into hisses at any + moment. + </p> + <p> + But what did he care for the opinion of these plebeians! Before he was a + hundred paces from the house his emotion had vanished, and he was thinking + how he could most agreeably spend the time until the hour appointed for + his second interview with M. de Valorsay. He had not breakfasted, but “his + stomach was out of sorts,” as he said to himself, and it would really have + been impossible for him to swallow a morsel. Thus not caring to return + home, he started in quest of one of his former intimates, with the + generous intention of overpowering him with the great news. Unfortunately + he failed to find this friend, and eager to vent the pride that was + suffocating him, in some way or other, he entered the shop of an engraver, + whom he crushed by his importance, and ordered some visiting cards bearing + the inscription W. de Gordon-Chalusse, with a count’s coronet in one of + the corners. + </p> + <p> + Thus occupied, time flew by so quickly that he was a trifle late in + keeping his appointment with his dear friend the marquis. Wilkie found M. + de Valorsay as he had left him—in his smoking-room, talking with the + Viscount de Coralth. Not that the marquis had been idle, but it had barely + taken him an hour to set in motion the machinery which he had had in + complete readiness since the evening before. “Victory!” cried Wilkie, as + he appeared on the threshold. “It was a hard battle, but I asserted my + rights. I am the acknowledged heir! the millions are mine!” And without + giving his friends time to congratulate him, he began to describe his + interview with Madame d’Argeles, presenting his conduct in the most odious + light possible, pretending he had indulged in all sorts of harsh + rejoinders, and making himself out to be “a man of bronze,” or “a block of + marble,” as he said. + </p> + <p> + “You are certainly more courageous than I fancied,” said M. de Valorsay + gravely, when the narrative was ended. + </p> + <p> + “Is that really so?” + </p> + <p> + “It is, indeed. Now the world is before you. Let your story be noised + abroad—and it will be noised abroad—and you will become a + hero. Imagine the amazement of Paris when it learns that Lia d’Argeles was + a virtuous woman, who sacrificed her reputation for the sake of her son—a + martyr, whose disgrace was only a shameful falsehood invented by two men + of rank to increase the attractions of their gambling-den! It will take + the newspapers a month to digest this strange romance. And whom will all + this notoriety fall upon? Upon you, my dear sir; and as your millions will + lend an additional charm to the romance, you will become the lion of the + season.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie was really too much overwhelmed to feel elated. “Upon my word, + you overpower me, my dear marquis—you quite overpower me,” he + stammered. + </p> + <p> + “I too have been at work,” resumed the marquis. “And I have made numerous + inquiries, in accordance with my promise. I almost regret it, for what I + have discovered is—very singular, to say the least. I was just + saying so to Coralth when you came in. What I have learned makes it + extremely unpleasant for me, to find myself mixed up in the affair; + accordingly, I have requested the persons who gave me this information to + call here. You shall hear their story, and then you must decide for + yourself.” So saying, he rang the bell, and as soon as a servant answered + the summons, he exclaimed: “Show M. Casimir in.” + </p> + <p> + When the lackey had retired to carry out this order, the marquis remarked: + “Casimir was the deceased count’s valet. He is a clever fellow, honest, + intelligent, and well up in his business—such a man as you will + need, in fact, and I won’t try to conceal the fact that the hope of + entering your service has aided considerably in unloosening his tongue.” + </p> + <p> + M. Casimir, who was irreproachably clad in black, with a white cambric tie + round his neck, entered the room at this very moment, smiling and bowing + obsequiously. “This gentleman, my good fellow,” said M. de Valorsay, + pointing to Wilkie, “is your former master’s only heir. A proof of + devotion might induce him to keep you with him. What you told me a little + while ago is of great importance to him; see if you can repeat it now for + his benefit.” + </p> + <p> + In his anxiety to secure a good situation, M. Casimir had ventured to + apply to the Marquis de Valorsay; he had talked a good deal, and the + marquis had conceived the plan of making him an unsuspecting accomplice. + “I never deny my words,” replied the valet, “and since monsieur is the + heir to the property, I won’t hesitate to tell him that immense sums have + been stolen from the late count’s estate.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie bounded from his chair. “Immense sums!” he exclaimed. “Is it + possible!” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur shall judge. On the morning preceding his death, the count had + more than two millions in bank-notes and bonds stowed away in his + escritoire, but when the justice of the peace came to take the inventory, + the money could not be found. We servants were terribly alarmed, for we + feared that suspicion would fall upon us.” + </p> + <p> + Ah! if Wilkie had only been alone he would have given vent to his true + feelings. But here, under the eyes of the marquis and M. de Coralth, he + felt that he must maintain an air of stoical indifference. He ALMOST + succeeded in doing so, and in a tolerably firm voice he remarked: “This is + not very pleasant news. Two millions! that’s a good haul. Tell me, my + friend, have you any clue to the thief?” + </p> + <p> + The valet’s troubled glance betrayed an uneasy conscience, but he had gone + too far to draw back. “I shouldn’t like to accuse an innocent person,” he + replied, “but there was some one who constantly had access to that + escritoire.” + </p> + <p> + “And who was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Marguerite.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know the lady.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s a young girl who is—at least people say—the count’s + illegitimate daughter. Her word was law in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “What has become of her?” + </p> + <p> + “She has gone to live with General de Fondege, one of the count’s friends. + She wouldn’t take her jewels and diamonds away with her, which seemed very + strange, for they are worth more than a hundred thousand francs. Even + Bourigeau said to me: ‘That’s unnatural, M. Casimir.’ Borigeau is the + concierge of the house, a very worthy man. Monsieur will not find his + equal.” + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, this tribute to the merits of the valet’s friend was + interrupted by the arrival of a footman, who, after tapping respectfully + at the door, entered the room and exclaimed: “The doctor is here, and + desires to speak with Monsieur le Marquis.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied M. de Valorsay, “ask him to wait. When I ring, you + can usher him in.” Then addressing M. Casimir, he added: + </p> + <p> + “You may retire for the present, but don’t leave the house. M. Wilkie will + acquaint you with his intentions by and by.” + </p> + <p> + The valet thereupon backed out of the room, bowing profoundly. + </p> + <p> + “There is a story for you!” exclaimed M. Wilkie as soon as the door was + closed. “A robbery of two millions!” + </p> + <p> + The marquis shook his head, and remarked, gravely: “That’s a mere nothing. + I suspect something far more terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “What, pray? Upon my word! you frighten me.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait! I may be mistaken. Even the doctor may lie deceived. But you shall + judge for yourself.” As he spoke, he pulled the bell-rope, and an instant + after, the servant announced: “Dr. Jodon.” + </p> + <p> + It was, indeed, the same physician who had annoyed Mademoiselle Marguerite + by his persistent curiosity and impertinent questions, at the Count de + Chalusse’s bedside; the same crafty and ambitious man, constantly + tormented by covetousness, and ready to do anything to gratify it—the + man of the period, in short, who sacrificed everything to the display by + which he hoped to deceive other people, and who was almost starving in the + midst of his mock splendor. + </p> + <p> + M. Casimir was an innocent accomplice, but the doctor knew what he was + doing. Interviewed on behalf of the Marquis de Valorsay by Madame Leon, he + had fathomed the whole mystery at once. These two crafty natures had read + and understood each other. No definite words had passed between them—they + were both too shrewd for that; and yet, a compact had been concluded by + which each had tacitly agreed to serve the other according to his need. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the physician appeared, M. de Valorsay rose and shook hands + with him; then, offering him an arm-chair, he remarked: “I will not + conceal from you, doctor, that I have in some measure prepared this + gentleman”—designating M. Wilkie—“for your terrible + revelation.” + </p> + <p> + By the doctor’s attitude, a keen observer might have divined the secret + trepidation that always precedes a bad action which has been conceived and + decided upon in cold blood. + </p> + <p> + “To tell the truth,” he began, speaking slowly, and with some difficulty, + “now that the moment for speaking has come, I almost hesitate. Our + profession has painful exigencies. Perhaps it is now too late. If there + had been any of the count’s relatives in the house, or even an heir at the + time, I should have insisted upon an autopsy. But now——” + </p> + <p> + On hearing the word “autopsy,” M. Wilkie looked round with startled eyes. + He opened his lips to interrupt the speaker, but the physician had already + resumed his narrative. “Besides, I had only suspicions,” he said, + “suspicions based, it is true, upon strange and alarming circumstances. I + am a man, that is to say, I am liable to error. In the kingdom of science + it would be unpardonable temerity on my part to affirm——” + </p> + <p> + “To affirm what?” interrupted M. Wilkie. + </p> + <p> + The physician did not seem to hear him, but continued in the same dogmatic + tone. “The count apparently died from an attack of apoplexy, but certain + poisons produce similar and even identical symptoms which are apt to + deceive the most experienced medical men. The persistent efforts of the + count’s intellect, his muscular rigidity alternating with utter + relaxation, the dilation of the pupils of his eyes, and more than aught + else the violence of his last convulsions, have led me to ask myself if + some criminal had not hastened his end.” + </p> + <p> + Whiter than his shirt, and trembling like a leaf, M. Wilkie sprang from + his chair. “I understand!” he exclaimed. “The count was murdered—poisoned.” + </p> + <p> + But the physician replied with an energetic protest. “Oh, not so fast!” + said he. “Don’t mistake my conjectures for assertions. Still, I ought not + to conceal the circumstances which awakened my suspicions. On the morning + preceding his attack, the count took two spoonfuls of the contents of a + vial which the people in charge could not or would not produce. When I + asked what this vial contained, the answer was: ‘A medicine to prevent + apoplexy.’ I don’t say that this is false, but prove it. As for the motive + that led to the crime, it is apparent at once. The escritoire contained + two millions of francs, and the money has disappeared. Show me the vial, + find the money, and I will admit that I am wrong. But until then, I shall + have my suspicions.” + </p> + <p> + He did not speak like a physician but like an examining magistrate, and + his alarming deductions found their way even to M. Wilkie’s dull brain. + “Who could have committed the crime?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “It could only have been the person likely to profit by it; and only one + person besides the count knew that the money was in the house, and had + possession of the key of this escritoire.” + </p> + <p> + “And this person?” + </p> + <p> + “Is the count’s illegitimate daughter, who lived in the house with him—Mademoiselle + Marguerite.” + </p> + <p> + M. Wilkie sank into his chair again, completely overwhelmed. The + coincidence between the doctor’s deposition and M. Casimir’s testimony was + too remarkable to pass unnoticed. Further doubt seemed impossible. “Ah! + this is most unfortunate!” faltered Wilkie. “What a pity! Such + difficulties never assail any one but me! What am I to do?” And in his + distress he glanced from the doctor to the Marquis de Valorsay, and then + at M. de Coralth, as if seeking inspiration from each of them. + </p> + <p> + “My profession forbids my acting as an adviser in such cases,” replied the + physician, “but these gentlemen have not the same reasons for keeping + silent.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” interrupted the marquis quickly; “but this is one of those + cases in which a man must be left to his own inspirations. The most I can + do, is to say what course I should pursue if I were one of the deceased + count’s relatives or heirs.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray tell me, my dear marquis,” sighed Wilkie. “You would render me an + immense service by doing so.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay seemed to reflect for a moment; and then he solemnly + exclaimed: “I should feel that my honor required me to investigate every + circumstance connected with this mysterious affair. Before receiving a + man’s estate, one must know the cause of his death, so as to avenge him if + he has been foully murdered.” + </p> + <p> + For M. Wilkie the oracle had spoken. “Such is my opinion exactly,” he + declared. “But what course would you pursue, my dear marquis? How would + you set about solving this mystery?” + </p> + <p> + “I should appeal to the authorities.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “And this very day, this very hour, without losing a second, I should + address a communication to the public prosecutor, informing him of the + robbery which is patent to any one, and referring to the possibility of + foul play.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that would be an excellent idea; but there is one slight drawback—I + don’t know how to draw up such a communication.” + </p> + <p> + “I know no more about it than you do yourself; but any lawyer or notary + will give you the necessary information. Are you acquainted with any such + person? Would you like me to give you the address of my business man? He + is a very clever fellow, who has almost all the members of my club as his + clients.” + </p> + <p> + This last reason was more than sufficient to fix M. Wilkie’s choice. + “Where can I find him?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “At his house—he is always there at this hour. Come! here is a scrap + of paper and a pencil. You had better make a note of his address. Write: + ‘Maumejan, Route de la Revolte.’ Tell him that I sent you, and he will + treat you with the same consideration as he would show to me. He lives a + long way off, but my brougham is standing in the courtyard; so take it, + and when your consultation is over, come back and dine with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you are too kind!” exclaimed M. Wilkie. “You overpower me, my dear + marquis, you do, upon my word! I shall fly and be back in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + He went off looking radiant; and a moment later the carriage which was to + take him to M. Maumejan’s was heard rolling out of the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + The doctor had already taken up his hat and cane. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse me for leaving you so abruptly, Monsieur le Marquis,” + said he, “but I have an engagement to discuss a business matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “I am negotiating for the purchase of a dentist’s establishment.” + </p> + <p> + “What, you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I. You may tell me that this is a downfall, but I will answer, ‘It + will give me a living.’ Medicine is becoming a more and more + unremunerative profession. However hard a physician may work, he can + scarcely pay for the water he uses in washing his hands. I have an + opportunity of purchasing the business of a well-established and + well-known dentist, in an excellent neighborhood. Why not avail myself of + it? Only one thing worries me—the lack of funds.” + </p> + <p> + The marquis had expected the doctor would require remuneration for his + services. Before compromising himself any further, M. Jodon wished to knew + what compensation he was to receive. The marquis was so sure of this, that + he quickly exclaimed: “Ah, my dear doctor, if you have need of twenty + thousand francs, I shall be only too happy to offer them to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honor!” + </p> + <p> + “And when can you let me have the money?” + </p> + <p> + “In three or four days’ time.” + </p> + <p> + The bargain was concluded. The doctor was now ready to find traces of any + poison whatsoever in the Count de Chalusse’s exhumed remains. He pressed + the marquis’s hand and then went off, exclaiming: “Whatever happens you + can count upon me.” + </p> + <p> + Left alone with the Viscount de Coralth, and consequently freed from all + restraint, M. de Valorsay rose with a long-drawn sigh of relief. “What an + interminable seance!” he growled. And, approaching his acolyte, who was + sitting silent and motionless in an arm-chair, he slapped him on the + shoulder, exclaiming: “Are you ill that you sit there like that, as still + as a mummy?” + </p> + <p> + The viscount turned as if he had been suddenly aroused from slumber. “I’m + well enough,” he answered somewhat roughly. “I was only thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “Your thoughts are not very pleasant, to judge from the look on your + face.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I was thinking of the fate that you are preparing for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! A truce to disagreeable prophecies, please! Besides, it’s too late to + draw back, or to even think of retreat. The Rubicon is passed.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! that is the cause of my anxiety. If it hadn’t been for my wretched + past, which you have threatened me with like a dagger, I should long ago + have left you to incur this danger alone. You were useful to me in times + past, I admit. You presented me to the Baroness Trigault, to whose + patronage I owe my present means, but I am paying too dearly for your + services in allowing myself to be made the instrument of your dangerous + schemes. Who aided you in defrauding Kami-Bey? Who bet for you against + your own horse Domingo? Who risked his life in slipping those cards in the + pack which Pascal Ferailleur held? It was Coralth, always Coralth.” + </p> + <p> + A gesture of anger escaped the marquis, but resolving to restrain himself, + he made no rejoinder. It was not until after he had walked five or six + times round the smoking-room and grown more calm that he returned to the + viscount’s side. “Really, I don’t recognize you,” he began. “Is it really + you who have turned coward? And at what a moment, pray? Why, on the very + eve of success.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “Facts shall convince you. This morning I might have doubted, but now, + thanks to that vain idiot who goes by the name of Wilkie, I am sure, + perfectly, mathematically sure of success. Maumejan, who is entirely + devoted to me, and who is the greediest, most avaricious scoundrel alive, + will draw up such a complaint that Marguerite will sleep in prison. + Moreover, other witnesses will be summoned. By what Casimir has said, you + can judge what the other servants will say. This testimony will be + sufficient to convict her of the robbery. As for the poisoning, you heard + Dr. Jodon. Can I depend upon him? Evidently, if I pay without haggling. + Very well; I shall pay.” + </p> + <p> + But all this did not reassure M. de Coralth. “The accusation will fall to + the ground,” said he, “as soon as the famous vial from which M. de + Chalusse took two spoonfuls is found.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me; it won’t be found.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I know where it is, my dear friend. It is in the count’s + escritoire, but it won’t be there any longer on the day after to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Who will remove it?” + </p> + <p> + “A skilful fellow whom Madame Leon has found for me. Everything has been + carefully arranged. To-morrow night at the latest Madame Leon will let + this man into the Hotel de Chalusse by the garden gate, which she has kept + the key of. Vantrasson, as the man is called, knows the management of the + house, and he will break open the escritoire and take the vial away. You + may say that there are seals upon the furniture, placed there by the + justice of the peace. That’s true, but this man tells me that he can + remove and replace them in such a way as to defy detection; and as the + lock has been forced once already—the day after the count’s death—a + second attempt to break the escritoire open will not be detected.” + </p> + <p> + The viscount remarked, with an ironical air: “All that is perfect; but the + autopsy will reveal the falseness of the accusation.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally—but an autopsy will require time, and that will suit my + plans admirably. After eight or ten days’ solitary confinement and several + rigid examinations, Mademoiselle Marguerite’s energy and courage will + flag. What do you think she will reply to the man who says to her: ‘I love + you, and for your sake I will attempt the impossible. Swear to become my + wife and I will establish your innocence?’” + </p> + <p> + “I think she will say: ‘Save me and I will marry you!’” + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay clapped his hands. “Bravo!” he exclaimed; “you have spoken + the truth. Remember, now, that your dark forebodings are only chimeras! + Yes, she will swear it, and I know she is the woman to keep her vow, even + if she died of sorrow. And the very next day I will go to the examining + magistrate and say to him: ‘Marguerite a thief! Ah, what a frightful + mistake. A robbery has been committed, it’s true; but I know the real + culprit—a scoundrel who fancied that by destroying a single letter + he would annihilate all traces of the breach of fidelity he had committed. + Fortunately, the Count de Chalusse distrusted this man, and proof of his + breach of trust is in existence. I have this proof in my hands.’ And I + will show a letter establishing the truth of my assertion.” + </p> + <p> + No forebodings clouded the marquis’s joy; he saw no obstacles; it seemed + to him as if he had already triumphed. “And the day following,” he + resumed, “when Marguerite becomes my wife, I shall take from a certain + drawer a certain document, given to me by M. de Chalusse when I was on the + point of becoming his son-in-law, and in which he recognizes Marguerite as + his daughter, and makes her his sole legatee. And this document is + perfectly en regle, and unattackable. Maumejan, who has examined it, + guarantees that the value of the count’s estate cannot be less than ten + millions. Five will go to Madame d’Argeles, or her son Wilkie, as their + share of the property. The remaining five will be mine. Come, confess that + the plan is admirable!” + </p> + <p> + “Admirable, undoubtedly; but terribly complicated. When there are so many + wheels within wheels, one of them is always sure to get out of order.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Besides, you have I don’t know how many accomplices—Maumejan, the + doctor, Madame Leon, and Vantrasson, not counting myself. Will all these + people perform their duties satisfactorily?” + </p> + <p> + “Each of them is as much interested in my success as I am myself.” + </p> + <p> + “But we have enemies—Madame d’Argeles, Fortunat——” + </p> + <p> + “Madame d’Argeles is about to leave Paris. If Fortunat is troublesome I + will purchase his silence; Maumejan has promised me money.” + </p> + <p> + But M. de Coralth had kept his strongest argument until the last. “And + Pascal Ferailleur?” said he. “You have forgotten him.” + </p> + <p> + No; M. de Valorsay had not forgotten him. You do not forget the man you + have ruined and dishonored. Still, it was in a careless tone that ill + accorded with his state of mind that the marquis replied: “The poor devil + must be en route for America by this time.” + </p> + <p> + The viscount shook his head. “That’s what I’ve in vain been trying to + convince myself of,” said he. “Do you know that Pascal was virtually + expelled from the Palais de Justice, and that his name has been struck off + the list of advocates? If he hasn’t blown his brains out, it is only + because he hopes to prove his innocence. Ah! if you knew him as well as I + do, you wouldn’t be so tranquil in mind!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped short for the door had suddenly opened. The interruption made + the marquis frown, but anger gave way to anxiety when he perceived Madame + Leon, who entered the room out of breath and extremely red in the face. + </p> + <p> + “There wasn’t a cab to be had!” she groaned. “Just my luck. I came on + foot, and ran the whole way. I’m utterly exhausted;” and so saying, she + sank into an arm-chair. + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay had turned very pale. “Defer your complaints until another + time,” he said, harshly. “What has happened? Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + The estimable woman raised her hands to heaven, as she plaintively + replied: “There is so much to tell? First, Mademoiselle Marguerite has + written two letters, but I have failed to discover to whom they were sent. + Secondly, she remained for more than an hour yesterday evening in the + drawing-room with the General’s son, Lieutenant Gustave, and, on parting, + they shook hands like a couple of friends, and said, ‘It is agreed.’” + </p> + <p> + “And is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “One moment and you’ll see. This morning Mademoiselle went out with Madame + de Fondege to call on the Baroness Trigault. I do not know what took place + there, but there must have been a terrible scene; for they brought + Mademoiselle Marguerite back unconscious, in one of the baron’s + carriages.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear that, viscount?” exclaimed M. de Valorsay. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! You shall have the explanation to-morrow,” answered M. de Coralth. + </p> + <p> + “And last, but not least,” resumed Madame Leon, “on returning home this + evening at about five o’clock, I fancied I saw Mademoiselle Marguerite + leave the house and go up the Rue Pigalle. I had thought she was ill and + in bed, and I said to myself, ‘This is very strange.’ So I hastened after + her. It was indeed she. Of course, I followed her. And what did I see? + Why, Mademoiselle paused to talk with a vagabond, clad in a blouse. They + exchanged notes, and Mademoiselle Marguerite returned home. And here I am. + She must certainly suspect something. What is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + If M. de Valorsay were frightened, he did not show it. “Many thanks for + your zeal, my dear lady,” he replied, “but all this is a mere nothing. + Return home at once; you will receive my instructions to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. + </h2> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite had been greatly surprised on the occasion of her + visit to M. Fortunat when she saw Victor Chupin suddenly step forward and + eagerly exclaim: “I shall be unworthy of the name I bear if I do not find + M. Ferailleur for you in less than a fortnight.” + </p> + <p> + It is true that M. Fortunat’s clerk did not appear to the best advantage + on this occasion. In order to watch M. de Coralth, he had again arrayed + himself in his cast-off clothes, and with his blouse and his worn-out + shoes, his “knockers” and his glazed cap, he looked the vagabond to + perfection. Still, strange as it may seem, Mademoiselle Marguerite did not + once doubt the devotion of this strange auxiliary. Without an instant’s + hesitation she replied, “I accept your services, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + Chupin felt at least a head taller as he heard this beautiful young girl + speak to him in a voice as clear and as sonorous as crystal. “Ah! you are + right to trust me,” he rejoined, striking his chest with his clinched + hand, “for I have a heart—but——” + </p> + <p> + “But what, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “I am wondering if you would consent to do what I wish. It would be a very + good plan, but if it displeases you, we will say no more about it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you wish?” + </p> + <p> + “To see you every day, so as to tell you what I’ve done, and to obtain + such directions as I may require. I’m well aware that I can’t go to M. de + Fondege’s door and ask to speak to you; but there are other ways of seeing + each other. For instance, every evening at five o-clock precisely, I might + pass along the Rue Pigalle, and warn you of my presence by such a signal + as this: ‘Pi-ouit!’” So saying he gave vent to the peculiar call, half + whistle, half ejaculation, which is familiar to the Parisian + working-classes. “Then,” he resumed, “you might come down and I would tell + you the news; besides, I might often help you by doing errands.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite reflected for a moment, and then bowing her head, + she replied: + </p> + <p> + “What you suggest is quite practicable. On and after to-morrow evening I + will watch for you; and if I don’t come down at the end of half an hour, + you will know that I am unavoidably detained.” + </p> + <p> + Chupin ought to have been satisfied. But no, he had still another request + to make; and instinct, supplying the lack of education, told him that it + was a delicate one. Indeed, he dared not present his petition; but his + embarrassment was so evident, and he twisted his poor cap so despairingly, + that at last the young girl gently asked him: “Is there anything more?” + </p> + <p> + He still hesitated, but eventually, mustering all his courage, he replied: + “Well, yes, mademoiselle. I’ve never seen Monsieur Ferailleur. Is he tall + or short, light or dark, stout or thin? I do not know. I might stand face + to face with him without being able to say, ‘It’s he.’ But it would be + quite a different thing if I only had a photograph of him.” + </p> + <p> + A crimson flush spread over Mademoiselle Marguerite’s face. Still she + answered, unaffectedly, “I will give you M. Ferailleur’s photograph + to-morrow, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall be all right!” exclaimed Chupin. “Have no fears, + mademoiselle, we shall outwit these scoundrels!” + </p> + <p> + So far a silent witness of this scene, M. Fortunat now felt it his duty to + interfere. He was not particularly pleased by his clerk’s suddenly + increased importance; and yet it mattered little to him, for his only + object was to revenge himself on Valorsay. “Victor is a capable and + trustworthy young fellow, mademoiselle,” he declared; “he has grown up + under my training, and I think you will find him a faithful servant.” + </p> + <p> + A “have you finished, you old liar?” rose to Chupin’s lips, but respect + for Mademoiselle Marguerite prevented him from uttering the words. “Then + everything is decided,” she said, pleasantly. And with a smile she offered + her hand to Chupin as one does in concluding a bargain. + </p> + <p> + If he had yielded to his first impulse he would have thrown himself on his + knees and kissed this hand of hers, the whitest and most beautiful he had + ever seen. As it was, he only ventured to touch it with his finger-tips, + and yet he changed color two or three times. “What a woman!” he exclaimed, + when she had left them. “A perfect queen! A man would willingly allow + himself to be chopped in pieces for her sake; and she’s as good and as + clever as she’s handsome. Did you notice, monsieur, that she did not offer + to pay me. She understood that I offered to work for her for my own + pleasure, for my own satisfaction and honor. Heavens! how I should have + chafed if she had offered me money. How provoked I should have been!” + </p> + <p> + Chupin was so fascinated that he wished no reward for his toil! This was + so astonishing that M. Fortunat remained for a moment speechless with + surprise. “Have you gone mad, Victor?” he inquired at last. + </p> + <p> + “Mad! I?—not at all; I’m only becoming——” He stopped + short. He was going to add: “an honest man.” But it is scarcely proper to + talk about the rope in the hangman’s house, and there are certain words + which should never be pronounced in the presence of certain people. Chupin + knew this, and so he quickly resumed: “When I become rich, when I’m a + great banker, and have a host of clerks who spend their time in counting + my gold behind a grating, I should like to have a wife of my own like + that. But I must be off about my business now, so till we meet again, + monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + The foregoing conversation will explain how it happened that Madame Leon + chanced to surprise her dear young lady in close conversation with a + vagabond clad in a blouse. Victor Chupin was not a person to make promises + and then leave them unfulfilled. Though he was usually unimpressionable, + like all who lead a precarious existence, still, when his emotions were + once aroused, they did not spend themselves in empty protestations. It + became his fixed determination to find Pascal Ferailleur, and the + difficulties of the task in no wise weakened his resolution. His starting + point was that Pascal had lived in the Rue d’Ulm, and had suddenly gone + off with his mother, with the apparent intention of sailing for America. + This was all he knew positively, and everything else was mere conjecture. + Still Mademoiselle Marguerite had convinced him that instead of leaving + Paris, Pascal was really still there, only waiting for an opportunity to + establish his innocence, and to wreak his vengeance upon M. de Coralth and + the Marquis de Valorsay. On the other hand, with such a slight basis to + depend upon, was it not almost madness to hope to discover a man who had + such strong reasons for concealing himself? Chupin did not think so in + fact, when he declared his determination to perform this feat, his plan + was already perfected. + </p> + <p> + On leaving M. Fortunat’s office, he hastened straight to the Rue d’Ulm, at + the top of his speed. The concierge of the house where Pascal had formerly + resided was by no means a polite individual. He was the very same man who + had answered Mademoiselle Marguerite’s questions so rudely; but Chupin had + a way of conciliating even the most crabbish doorkeeper, and of drawing + from him such information as he desired. He learned that at nine o’clock + on the sixteenth of October Madame Ferailleur, after seeing her trunks + securely strapped on to a cab had entered the vehicle, ordering the driver + to take her to the Railway Station in the Place du Havre! Chupin wished to + ascertain the number of the cab, but the concierge could not give it. He + mentioned, however, that this cab had been procured by Madame Ferailleur’s + servant-woman, who lived only a few steps from the house. A moment later + Chupin was knocking at this woman’s door. She was a very worthy person, + and bitterly regretted the misfortunes which had befallen her former + employers. She confirmed the doorkeeper’s story, but unfortunately she, + too, had quite forgotten the number of the vehicle. All she could say was + that she had hired it at the cab stand in the Rue Soufflot, and that the + driver was a portly, pleasant-faced man. + </p> + <p> + Chupin repaired at once to the Rue Soufflot, where he found the man in + charge of the stand in the most savage mood imaginable. He began by asking + Chupin what right he had to question him, why he wished to do so, and if + he took him for a spy. He added that his duty only consisted in noting the + arrivals and departures of the drivers, and that he could give no + information whatever. There was evidently nothing to be gained from this + ferocious personage; and yet Chupin bowed none the less politely as he + left the little office. “This is bad,” he growled, as he walked away, for + he was really at a loss what to do next; and if not discouraged, he was at + least extremely disconcerted and perplexed. Ah! if he had only had a card + from the prefecture of police in his pocket, or if he had been more + imposing in appearance, he would have encountered no obstacles; he might + then have tracked this cab through the streets of Paris as easily as he + could have followed a man bearing a lighted lantern through the darkness. + But poor and humble, without letters of recommendation, and with no other + auxiliaries than his own shrewdness and experience, he had a great deal to + contend against. Pausing in his walk, he had taken off his cap and was + scratching his head furiously, when suddenly he exclaimed: “What an ass I + am!” in so loud a tone that several passers-by turned to see who was + applying this unflattering epithet to himself. + </p> + <p> + Chupin had just remembered one of M. Isidore Fortunat’s debtors, a man + whom he often visited in the hope of extorting some trifling amount from + him, and who was employed in the Central office of the Paris Cab Company. + “If any one can help me out of this difficulty, it must be that fellow,” + he said to himself. “I hope I shall find him at his desk! Come, Victor, my + boy, you must look alive!” + </p> + <p> + However, he could not present himself at the office in the garb he then + wore, and so, much against his will, he went home and changed his clothes. + Then he took a cab at his own expense, and drove with all possible speed + to the main office of the Cab Company, in the Avenue de Segur. + Nevertheless it was already ten o’clock when he arrived there. He was more + fortunate than he had dared to hope. The man he wanted had charge of a + certain department, and was compelled to return to the office every + evening after dinner. He was there now. + </p> + <p> + He was a poor devil who, while receiving a salary of fifteen hundred + francs a year, spent a couple of thousand, and utilized his wits in + defending his meagre salary from his creditors. On perceiving Chupin, he + made a wrathful gesture, and his first words were: “I haven’t got a + penny.” + </p> + <p> + But Chupin smiled his most genial smile. “What!” said he, “do you fancy + I’ve come to collect money from you here, and at this hour? You don’t know + me. I merely came to ask a favor of you.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk’s clouded face brightened. “Since that is the case, pray take a + seat, and tell me how I can serve you,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. At nine o’clock in the evening, on the sixteenth of October, a + lady living in the Rue d’Ulm sent to the stand in the Rue Soufflot for a + cab. Her baggage was placed upon it, and she went away no one knows where. + However, this lady is a relative of my employer, and he so much wishes to + find her that he would willingly give a hundred francs over and above the + amount you owe him, to ascertain the number of the vehicle. He pretends + that you can give him this number if you choose; and it isn’t an + impossibility, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, nothing could be easier,” replied the clerk, glad of an + opportunity to explain the ingenious mechanism of the office to an + outsider. “Have you ten minutes to spare?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten days, if necessary,” rejoined Chupin. + </p> + <p> + “Then you shall see.” So saying the clerk rose and went into the adjoining + room, whence a moment later he returned carrying a large green box. “This + contains the October reports sent in every evening by the branch offices,” + he remarked in explanation. He next opened the box, glanced over the + documents it contained, and joyfully exclaimed: “Here we have it. This is + the report sent in by the superintendent of the cab-stand in the Rue + Soumot on the 16th October. Here is a list of the vehicles that arrived or + left from a quarter to nine o’clock till a quarter past nine. Five cabs + came in, but we need not trouble ourselves about them. Three went out + bearing the numbers 1781, 3025, and 2140. One of these three must have + taken your employer’s relative.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I must question the three drivers.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk shrugged his shoulders. “What is the use of doing that?” he + said, disdainfully. “Ah! you don’t understand the way in which we manage + our business! The drivers are artful, but the company isn’t a fool. By + expending a hundred and fifty thousand francs on its detective force every + year, it knows what each cab is doing at each hour of the day. I will now + look for the reports sent in respecting these three drivers. One of the + three will give us the desired information.” + </p> + <p> + This time the search was a considerably longer one, and Chupin was + beginning to grow impatient, when the clerk waved a soiled and crumpled + sheet of paper triumphantly in the air, and cried: “What did I tell you? + This is the report concerning the driver of No. 2140. Listen: Friday, at + ten minutes past nine, sent to the Rue d’Ulm—— do you think of + that?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s astonishing! But where can I find this driver?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say, just at this moment; he’s on duty now. But as he belongs to + this division he will be back sooner or later, so you had better wait.” + </p> + <p> + “I will wait then; only as I’ve had no dinner, I’ll go out and get a + mouthful to eat. I can promise you that M. Fortunat will send you back + your note cancelled.” + </p> + <p> + Chupin was really very hungry, and so he rushed off to a little + eating-house which he had remarked on his way to the office. There for + eighteen sous he dined, or rather supped, like a prince; and as he + subsequently treated himself to a cup of coffee and a glass of brandy, as + a reward for his toil, some little time had elapsed when he returned to + the office. However, No. 2140 had not returned in his absence, so he + stationed himself at the door to wait for it. + </p> + <p> + His patience was severely tried, for it was past midnight when Chupin saw + the long-looked-for vehicle enter the courtyard. The driver slowly + descended from his box and then went into the cashier’s office to pay over + his day’s earnings, and hand in his report. Then he came out again + evidently bound for home. As the servant-woman had said, he was a stout, + jovial-faced man, and he did not hesitate to accept a glass of “no matter + what” in a wine-shop that was still open. Whether he believed the story + that Chupin told to excuse his questions or not, at all events he answered + them very readily. He perfectly remembered having been sent to the Rue + d’Ulm, and spoke of his “fare” as a respectable-looking old lady, + enumerated the number of her trunks, boxes, and packages, and even + described their form. He had taken her to the railway station, stopping at + the entrance in the Rue d’Amsterdam; and when the porters inquired, as + usual, “Where is this baggage to go?” the old lady had answered, “To + London.” + </p> + <p> + Chupin felt decidedly crestfallen on hearing this. He had fancied that + Madame Ferailleur had merely announced her intention of driving to the + Havre railway station so as to set possible spies on the wrong track, and + he would have willingly wagered anything, that after going a short + distance she had given the cabman different instructions. Not so, however, + he had taken her straight to the station. Was Mademoiselle Marguerite + deceived then? Had Pascal really fled from his enemies without an attempt + at resistance? Such a course seemed impossible on his part. Thinking over + all this, Chupin slept but little that night, and the next morning, before + five o’clock, he was wandering about the Rue d’Amsterdam peering into the + wine-shops in search of some railway porter. It did not take him long to + find one, and having done so, he made him the best of friends in less than + no time. Although this porter knew nothing about the matter himself, he + took Chupin to a comrade who remembered handling the baggage of an old + lady bound for London, on the evening of the sixteenth. However, this + baggage was not put into the train after all; the old lady had left it in + the cloak-room, and the next day a fat woman of unprepossessing appearance + had called for the things, and had taken them away, after paying the + charges for storage. This circumstance had been impressed on the porter’s + mind by the fact that the woman had not given him a farthing gratuity, + although he had been much more obliging than the regulations required. + However, when she went off, she remarked in a honeyed voice, but with an + exceedingly impudent air: “I’ll repay you for your kindness, my lad. I + keep a wine-shop on the Route d’Asnieres, and if you ever happen to pass + that way with one of your comrades, come in, and I’ll reward you with a + famous drink!” + </p> + <p> + What had exasperated the porter almost beyond endurance, was the certainty + he felt that she was mocking him. “For she didn’t give me her name or + address, the old witch!” he growled. “She had better look out, if I ever + get hold of her again!” + </p> + <p> + But Chupin had already gone off, unmoved by his informant’s grievances. + Now that he had discovered the stratagem which Madame Ferailleur had + employed to elude her pursuers, his conjectures were changed into + certainties. This information proved that Pascal WAS concealed somewhere + in Paris; but where? If he could only find out this woman who had called + for the trunks, it would lead to the discovery of Madame Ferailleur and + her son but how was he to ascertain the woman’s whereabouts? She had said + that she kept a wine-shop on the Route d’Asnieres. Was this true? Was it + not more likely that this vague direction was only a fresh precaution? + </p> + <p> + This much was certain: Chupin, who knew every wine-shop on the Route + d’Asnieres, did not remember any such powerful matron as the porter had + described. He had not forgotten Madame Vantrasson. But to imagine any bond + of interest between Pascal and such a woman as she was, seemed absurd in + the extreme. However, as he found himself in such a plight and could not + afford to let any chance escape, he repaired merely for form’s sake to the + Vantrasson establishment. It had not changed in the least since the + evening he visited it in company with M. Fortunat—but seen in the + full light of day, it appeared even more dingy and dilapidated. Madame + Vantrasson was not in her accustomed place, behind the counter, between + her black cat—her latest idol—and the bottles from which she + prepared her ratafia, now her supreme consolation here below. There was no + one in the shop but the landlord. Seated at a table, with a lighted candle + near him, he was engaged in an occupation which would have set Chupin’s + mind working if he had noticed it. Vantrasson had taken some wax from a + sealed bottle, and, after melting it at the flame of the candle, he let it + drop slowly on to the table. He then pressed a sou upon it, and when the + wax had become sufficiently cool and stiff, he removed it from the table + without destroying the impression, by means of a thin bladed knife similar + to those which glaziers use. However, Chupin did not remark this singular + employment. He was engaged in mentally ejaculating, “Good! the old woman + isn’t here.” And as his plan of campaign was already prepared, he entered + without further hesitation. + </p> + <p> + As Vantrasson heard the door turn upon its hinges, he rose so awkwardly, + or rather so skilfully, as to let all his implements, wax, knife, and + impressions, fall on the floor behind the counter. “What can I do to serve + you?” he asked, in a husky voice. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. I wished to speak with your wife.” + </p> + <p> + “She has gone out. She works for a family in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + This was a gleam of light. Chupin had not thought of the only hypothesis + that could explain what seemed inexplicable to him. However, he knew how + to conceal his satisfaction, and so with an air of disappointment, he + remarked: “That’s too bad! I shall be obliged to call again.” + </p> + <p> + “So you have a secret to tell my wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Won’t I do as well, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you how it is. I’m employed in the baggage room of the western + railway station, and I wanted to know if your wife didn’t call there a few + days ago for some trunks?” + </p> + <p> + The landlord’s features betrayed the vague perturbation of a person who + can count the days by his mistakes, and it was with evident hesitation + that he replied: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my wife went to the Havre station for some baggage last Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so. Well, this is my errand: either the clerk forgot to ask her + for her receipt, or else he lost it. He can’t find it anywhere. I came to + ask your wife if she hadn’t kept it. When she returns, please deliver my + message; and if she has the receipt, pray send it to me through the post.” + </p> + <p> + The ruse was not particularly clever, but it was sufficiently so to + deceive Vantrasson. “To whom am I to send this receipt?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “To me, Victor Chupin, Faubourg Saint Denis,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + Imprudent youth! alas, he little suspected what a liberty M. Fortunat had + taken with his name on the evening he visited the Vantrassons. But on his + side the landlord of the Model Lodging House had not forgotten the name + mentioned by the agent. He turned pale with anger on beholding his + supposed creditor, and quickly slipping between the visitor and the door, + he said: “So your name is Victor Chupin?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are in the employment of the Railway Company?” + </p> + <p> + “As I just told you.” + </p> + <p> + “That doesn’t prevent you from acting as a collector, does it?” + </p> + <p> + Chupin instinctively recoiled, convinced that he had betrayed himself by + some blunder, but unable to discover in what he had erred. “I did do + something in that line formerly,” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + Vantrasson doubted no longer. “So you confess that you are a vile + scoundrel!” he exclaimed. “You confess that you purchased an old + promissory note of mine for fourpence, and then sent a man here to seize + my goods! Ah! you’d like to trample the poor under foot, would you! Very + well. I have you now, and I’ll settle your account! Take that!” And so + saying, he dealt his supposed creditor a terrible blow with his clinched + fist that sent him reeling to the other end of the shop. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, Chupin was very nimble. He did not lose his footing, but + sprung over a table and used it as a rampart to shield himself from his + dangerous assailant. In the open field, he could easily have protected + himself; but here in this narrow space, and hemmed in a corner, he felt + that despite this barrier he was lost. “What a devil of a mess!” he + thought, as with wonderful agility he avoided Vantrasson’s fist, a fist + that would have felled an ox. He had an idea of calling for assistance. + But would any one hear him? Would any one reply? And if help came, would + not the police be sure to hear of the broil? And if they did, would there + not be an investigation which would perhaps disturb Pascal’s plans? + Fearing to injure those whom he wished to serve, he resolved to let + himself be hacked to pieces rather than allow a cry to escape him; but he + changed his tactics, and instead of attempting to parry the blows as he + had done before, he now only thought of gaining the door, inch by inch. + </p> + <p> + He had almost reached it, not without suffering considerable injury, when + it suddenly opened, and a young man clad in black, with a smooth shaven + face, entered the shop, and sternly exclaimed: “Why! what’s all this?” + </p> + <p> + The sight of the newcomer seemed to stupefy Vantrasson. “Ah! it is you, + Monsieur Maumejan?” he faltered, with a crestfallen air. “It’s nothing; we + were only in fun.” + </p> + <p> + M. Maumejan seemed perfectly satisfied with this explanation; and in the + indifferent tone of a man who is delivering a message, the meaning of + which he scarcely understood, he said: “A person who knows that your wife + is in my employ requested me to ask you if you would be ready to attend to + that little matter she spoke of.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. I was preparing for it a moment ago.” + </p> + <p> + Chupin heard no more. He had hurried out, his clothes in disorder, and + himself not a little hurt; but his delight made him lose all thought of + his injuries. “That’s M. Ferailleur,” he muttered, “I’m sure of it, and + I’m going to prove it.” So saying he hid himself in the doorway of a + vacant house a few paces distant from the Vantrassons’, and waited. + </p> + <p> + Then as soon as M. Maumejan emerged from the Model Lodging House, he + followed him. The young man with the clean shaven face walked up the Route + d’Asnieres, turned to the right into the Route de la Revolte, and at last + paused before a house of humble aspect. At that moment Chupin darted + toward him, and softly called, “M’sieur Ferailleur!” + </p> + <p> + The young man turned instinctively. Then seeing his mistake, and feeling + that he had betrayed himself, he sprang upon Chupin, and caught him by the + wrists: “Scoundrel! who are you?” he exclaimed. “Who has hired you to + follow me! What do you want of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so fast, m’sieur! Don’t be so rough! You hurt me. I’m sent by + Mademoiselle Marguerite!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. + </h2> + <p> + “O God! send Pascal to my aid,” prayed Mademoiselle Marguerite, as she + left M. Fortunat’s house. Now she understood the intrigue she had been the + victim of; but, instead of reassuring her the agent had frightened her, by + revealing the Marquis de Valorsay’s desperate plight. She realized what + frenzied rage must fill this man’s heart as he felt himself gradually + slipping from the heights of opulence, down into the depths of poverty and + crime. What might he not dare, in order to preserve even the semblance of + grandeur for a year, or a month, or a day longer! Had they measured the + extent of his villainy? Would he even hesitate at murder? And the poor + girl asked herself with a shudder if Pascal were still living; and a + vision of his bleeding corpse, lying lifeless in some deserted street, + rose before her. And who could tell what dangers threatened her + personally? For, though she knew the past, she could not read the future. + What did M. de Valorsay’s letter mean? and what was the fate that he held + in reserve for her, and that made him so sanguine of success? The + impression produced upon her mind was so terrible that for a moment she + thought of hastening to the old justice of the peace to ask for his + protection and a refuge. But this weakness did not last long. Should she + lose her energy? Should her will fail her at the decisive moment? “No, a + thousand times no!” she said to herself again and again. “I will die if + needs be, but I will die fighting!” And the nearer she approached the Rue + Pigalle, the more energetically she drove away her apprehension, and + sought for an excuse calculated to satisfy any one who might have noticed + her long absence. + </p> + <p> + An unnecessary precaution. She found the house as when she left it, + abandoned to the mercy of the servants—the strangers sent the + evening before from the employment office. Important matters still kept + the General and his wife from home. The husband had to show his horses; + and the wife was intent upon shopping. As for Madame Leon, most of her + time seemed to be taken up by the family of relatives she had so suddenly + discovered. Alone, free from all espionage, and wishing to ward off + despondency by occupation, Mademoiselle Marguerite was just beginning a + letter to her friend the old magistrate, when a servant entered and + announced that her dressmaker was there and wished to speak with her. “Let + her come in,” replied Marguerite, with unusual vivacity. “Let her come in + at once.” + </p> + <p> + A lady who looked some forty years of age, plainly dressed, but of + distinguished appearance, was thereupon ushered into the room. Like any + well-bred modiste, she bowed respectfully while the servant was present, + but as soon as he had left the room she approached Mademoiselle Marguerite + and took hold of her hands: “My dear young lady,” said she, “I am the + sister-in-law of your old friend, the magistrate. Having an important + message to send to you, he was trying to find a person whom he could trust + to play the part of a dressmaker, as had been agreed upon between you, + when I offered my services, thinking he could find no one more trusty than + myself.” + </p> + <p> + Tears glittered in Mademoiselle Marguerite’s eyes. The slightest token of + sympathy is so sweet to the heart of the lonely and unfortunate! “How can + I ever thank you, madame?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “By not attempting to thank me at all, and by reading this letter as soon + as possible.” + </p> + <p> + The note she now produced ran as follows: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR CHILD—At last I am on the track of the thieves. By + conferring with the people from whom M. de Chalusse received the money a + couple of days before his death, I have been fortunate enough to obtain + from them some minute details respecting the missing bonds, as well as the + numbers of the bank-notes which were deposited in the escritoire. With + this information, we cannot fail to prove the guilt of the culprits sooner + or later. You write me word that the Fondeges are spending money lavishly; + try and find out the names of the people they deal with, and communicate + them to me. Once more, I tell you that I am sure of success. Courage!” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said the spurious dressmaker, when she saw that Marguerite had + finished reading the letter. “What answer shall I take my brother-in-law?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him that he shall certainly have the information he requires + to-morrow. To-day, I can only give him the name of the carriage builder, + from whom M. de Fondege has purchased his new carriages.” + </p> + <p> + “Give it to me in writing, it is much the safest way.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite did so, and her visitor who, as a woman, was + delighted to find herself mixed up in an intrigue, then went off repeating + the old magistrate’s advice: “Courage!” + </p> + <p> + But it was no longer necessary to encourage Mademoiselle Marguerite. The + assurance of being so effectually helped, had already increased her + courage an hundredfold. The future that had seemed so gloomy only a moment + before, had now suddenly brightened. By means of the negative in the + keeping of the photographer, Carjat, she had the Marquis de Valorsay in + her power, and the magistrate, thanks to the numbers of the bank-notes, + could soon prove the guilt of the Fondeges. The protection of Providence + was made evident in an unmistakable manner. Thus it was with a placid and + almost smiling face that she successively greeted Madame Leon, who + returned home quite played out, then Madame de Fondege, who made her + appearance attended by two shop-boys overladen with packages, and finally + the General, who brought his son, Lieutenant Gustave, with him to dinner. + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant was a good-looking fellow of twenty-seven, or thereabouts, + with laughing eyes and a heavy mustache. He made a great clanking with his + spurs, and wore the somewhat theatrical uniform of the 13th Hussars rather + ostentatiously. He bowed to Mademoiselle Marguerite with a smile that was + too becoming to be displeasing; and he offered her his arm with an air of + triumph to lead her to the dining-room, as soon as the servant came to + announce that “Madame la Comtesse was served.” + </p> + <p> + Seated opposite to him at table, the young girl could not refrain from + furtively watching the man whom they wished to compel her to marry. Never + had she seen such intense self-complacency coupled with such utter + mediocrity. It was evident that he was doing his best to produce a + favorable impression; but as the dinner progressed, his conversation + became rather venturesome. He gradually grew extremely animated; and three + or four adventures of garrison life which he persisted in relating despite + his mother’s frowns, were calculated to convince his hearers that he was a + great favorite with the fair sex. It was the good cheer that loosened his + tongue. There could be no possible doubt on that score; and, indeed, while + drinking a glass of the Chateau Laroze, to which Madame Leon had taken + such a liking, he was indiscreet enough to declare that if his mother had + always kept house in this fashion, he should have been inclined to ask for + more frequent leaves of absence. + </p> + <p> + However, strange to say, after the coffee was served, the conversation + languished till at last it died out almost entirely. Madame de Fondege was + the first to disappear on the pretext that some domestic affairs required + her attention. The General was the next to rise and go out, in order to + smoke a cigar; and finally Madame Leon made her escape without saying a + word. So Mademoiselle Marguerite was left quite alone with Lieutenant + Gustave. It was evident enough to the young girl that this had been + preconcerted; and she asked herself what kind of an opinion M. and Madame + de Fondege could have of her delicacy. The proceeding made her so + indignant that she was on the point of rising from the table and of + retiring like the others, when reason restrained her. She said to herself + that perhaps she might gain some useful information from this young man, + and so she remained. + </p> + <p> + His face was crimson, and he seemed by far the more embarrassed of the + two. He sat with one elbow resting on the table, and with his gaze + persistently fixed upon a tiny glass half full of brandy which he held in + his hand, as if he hoped to gain some sublime inspiration from it. At + last, after an interval of irksome silence, he ventured to exclaim: + “Mademoiselle, should you like to be an officer’s wife?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” answered Marguerite. + </p> + <p> + “Really! But at least you understand my motive in asking this question?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Any one but the complacent lieutenant would have been disconcerted by + Mademoiselle Marguerite’s dry tone; but he did not even notice it. The + effort that he was making in his intense desire to be eloquent and + persuasive absorbed the attention of all his faculties. “Then permit me to + explain, mademoiselle,” he resumed. “We meet this evening for the first + time, but our acquaintance is not the affair of a day. For I know not how + long my father and mother have continually been chanting your praises. + ‘Mademoiselle Marguerite does this; Mademoiselle Marguerite does that.’ + They never cease talking of you, declaring that heart, wit, talent, + beauty, all womanly charms are united in your person. And they have never + wearied of telling me that the man whom you honored with your preference + would be the happiest of mortals. However, so far I had no desire to + marry, and I distrusted them. In fact, I had conceived a most violent + prejudice against you. Yes, upon my honor! I felt sure that I should + dislike you; but I have seen you and all is changed. As soon as my eyes + fell upon you, I experienced a powerful revulsion of feeling. I was never + so smitten in my life—and I said to myself, ‘Lieutenant, it is all + over—you are caught at last!’” + </p> + <p> + Pale with anger, astonished and humiliated beyond measure, the young girl + listened with her head lowered, vainly trying to find words to express the + feelings which disturbed her; but M. Gustave, misunderstanding her + silence, and congratulating himself upon the effect he had produced, grew + bolder, and with the tenderest and most impassioned inflection he could + impart to his voice, continued: “Who could fail to be impressed as I have + been? How could one behold, without rapturous admiration, such beautiful + eyes, such glorious black hair, such smiling lips, such a graceful mien, + such wonderful charms of person and of mind? How would it be possible to + listen, unmoved, to a voice which is clearer and purer than crystal? Ah! + my mother’s descriptions fell far short of the truth. But how can one + describe the perfections of an angel? To any one who has the happiness or + the misfortune of knowing you, there can only be one woman in the world!” + </p> + <p> + He had gradually approached her chair, and now extended his hand to take + hold of Marguerite’s, and probably raise it to his lips. But she shrank + from the contact as from red-hot iron, and rising hurriedly, with her eyes + flashing, and her voice quivering with indignation: “Monsieur!” she + exclaimed, “Monsieur!” + </p> + <p> + He was so surprised that he stood as if petrified, with his eyes wide open + and his hand still extended. “Permit me—allow me to explain,” he + stammered. But she declined to listen. “Who has told you that you could + address such words to me with impunity?” she continued. “Your parents, I + suppose; I daresay they told you to be bold. And that is why they have + left us, and why no servant has appeared. Ah! they make me pay dearly for + the hospitality they have given me!” As she spoke the tears started from + her eyes and glistened on her long lashes. “Whom did you fancy you were + speaking to?” she added. “Would you have been so audacious if I had a + father or a brother to resent your insults?” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant started as if he had been lashed with a whip. “Ah! you are + severe!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + And a happy inspiration entering his mind, he continued: “A man does not + insult a woman, mademoiselle, when, while telling her that he loves her + and thinks her beautiful, he offers her his name and life.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite shrugged her shoulders ironically, and remained + for a moment silent. She was very proud, and her pride had been cruelly + wounded; but reason told her that a continuation of this scene would + render a prolonged sojourn in the General’s house impossible; and where + could she go, without exciting malevolent remarks? Whom could she ask an + asylum of? Still this consideration alone would not have sufficed to + silence her. But she remembered that a quarrel and a rupture with the + Fondeges would certainly imperil the success of her plans. “So I will + swallow even this affront,” she said to herself; and then in a tone of + melancholy bitterness, she remarked, aloud: “A man cannot set a very high + value on his name when he offers it to a woman whom he knows absolutely + nothing about.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me—you forget that my mother——” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother has only known me for a week.” + </p> + <p> + An expression of intense surprise appeared on the lieutenant’s face. “Is + it possible?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Your father has met me five or six times at the table of the Count de + Chalusse, who was his friend—but what does he know of me?” resumed + Mademoiselle Marguerite. “That I came to the Hotel de Chalusse a year ago, + and that the count treated me like a daughter—that is all! Who I am, + where I was reared, and how, and what my past life has been, these are + matters that M. de Fondege knows nothing whatever about.” + </p> + <p> + “My parents told me that you were the daughter of the Count de Chalusse, + mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “What proof have they of it? They ought to have told you that I was an + unfortunate foundling, with no other name than that of Marguerite.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “They ought to have told you that I am poor, very poor, and that I should + probably have been reduced to the necessity of toiling for my daily bread, + if it had not been for them.” + </p> + <p> + An incredulous smile curved the lieutenant’s lips. He fancied that + Mademoiselle Marguerite only wished to prove his disinterestedness, and + this thought restored his assurance. “Perhaps you are exaggerating a + little, mademoiselle,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “I am not exaggerating—I possess but ten thousand francs in the + world—I swear it by all that I hold sacred.” + </p> + <p> + “That would not even be the dowry required of an officer’s wife by law,” + muttered the lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + Was his incredulity sincere or affected? What had his parents really told + him? Had they confided everything to him, and was he their accomplice? or + had they told him nothing? All these questions flashed rapidly through + Marguerite’s mind. “You suppose that I am rich, monsieur,” she resumed at + last. “I understand that only too well. If I was, you ought to shun me as + you would shun a criminal, for I could only be wealthy through a crime.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, through a crime. After M. de Chalusse’s death, two million francs + that had been placed in his escritoire for safe keeping, could not be + found. Who stole the money? I myself have been accused of the theft. Your + father must have told you of this, as well as of the cloud of suspicion + that is still hanging over me.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, for the lieutenant had become whiter than his shirt. “Good + God!” he exclaimed in a tone of horror, as if a terrible light had + suddenly broken upon his mind. He made a movement as if to leave the room, + but suddenly changing his mind, he bowed low before Mademoiselle + Marguerite, and said, in a husky voice: “Forgive me, mademoiselle, I did + not know what I was doing. I have been misinformed. I have been beguiled + by false hopes. I entreat you to say that you forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “I forgive you, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + But still he lingered. “I am only a poor devil of a lieutenant,” he + resumed, “with no other fortune than my epaulettes, no other prospects + than an uncertain advancement. I have been foolish and thoughtless. I have + committed many acts of folly; but there is nothing in my past life for + which I have cause to blush.” He looked fixedly at Mademoiselle + Marguerite, as if he were striving to read her inmost soul; and in a + solemn tone, that contrasted strangely with his usual levity of manner, he + added: “If the name I bear should ever be compromised, my prospects would + be blighted forever! The only course left for me would be to tender my + resignation. I will leave nothing undone to preserve my honor in the eyes + of the world, and to right those who have been wronged. Promise me not to + interfere with my plans.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite trembled like a leaf. She now realized her + terrible imprudence. He had divined everything. As she remained silent, he + continued wildly: “I entreat you. Do you wish me to beg you at your feet?” + </p> + <p> + Ah! it was a terrible sacrifice that he demanded of her. But how could she + remain obdurate in the presence of such intense anguish? “I will remain + neutral,” she replied, “that is all I can promise. Providence shall + decide.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said, sadly, suspecting that perhaps it was already too + late—“thank you.” Then he turned to go, and, in fact, he had already + opened the door, when a forlorn hope brought him back to Mademoiselle + Marguerite, whose hand he took, timidly faltering, “We are friends, are we + not?” + </p> + <p> + She did not withdraw her icy hand, and in a scarcely audible voice, she + repeated: “We are friends?” + </p> + <p> + Convinced that he could obtain nothing more from her than her promised + neutrality, the lieutenant thereupon hastily left the room, and she sank + back in her chair more dead than alive. “Great God! what is coming now?” + she murmured. + </p> + <p> + She thought she could understand the unfortunate young man’s intentions, + and she listened with a throbbing heart, expecting to hear a stormy + explanation between his parents and himself. In point of fact, she almost + immediately afterward heard the lieutenant inquire in a stern, imperious + voice: “Where is my father?” + </p> + <p> + “The General has just gone to his club.” + </p> + <p> + “And my mother?” + </p> + <p> + “A friend of hers called a few moments ago to take her to the opera.” + </p> + <p> + “What madness!” + </p> + <p> + That was all. The outer door opened and closed again with extreme + violence, and then Marguerite heard nothing save the sneering remarks of + the servants. + </p> + <p> + It was, indeed, madness on the part of M. and Madame de Fondege not to + have waited to learn the result of this interview, planned by themselves, + and upon which their very lives depended. But delirium seemed to have + seized them since, thanks to a still inexplicable crime, they had suddenly + found themselves in possession of an immense fortune. Perhaps in this wild + pursuit of pleasure, in the haste they displayed to satisfy their covetous + longings, they hoped to forget or silence the threatening voice of + conscience. Such was Mademoiselle Marguerite’s conclusion; but she was not + long left to undisturbed meditation. By the lieutenant’s departure the + restrictions which had been placed upon the servants’ movements had + evidently been removed, for they came in to clear the table. + </p> + <p> + Having with some little difficulty obtained a candle from one of these + model servants, Mademoiselle Marguerite now retired to her own room. In + her anxiety, she forgot Madame Leon, but the latter had not forgotten her; + she was even now listening at the drawing-room door, inconsolable to think + that she had not succeeded in hearing at least part of the conversation + between the lieutenant and her dear young lady. Marguerite had no wish to + reflect over what had occurred. As she was determined to keep the promise + which Lieutenant Gustave had wrung from her, it mattered little whether + she had committed a great mistake in allowing him to discover her + knowledge of his parent’s guilt, and in listening to his entreaties. A + secret presentiment warned her that the punishment which would overtake + the General and his wife would be none the less terrible, despite her own + forbearance, and that they would find their son more inexorable than the + severest judge. + </p> + <p> + The essential thing was to warn the old magistrate; and so in a couple of + pages she summarized the scene of the evening, feeling sure that she would + find an opportunity to post her letter on the following day. This duty + accomplished, she took a book and went to bed, hoping to drive away her + gloomy thoughts by reading. But the hope was vain. Her eyes read the + words, followed the lines and crossed the pages, but her mind utterly + refused to obey her will, and in spite of all her efforts persisted in + turning to the shrewd youth who had solemnly sworn to find Pascal for her. + A little after midnight Madame de Fondege returned from the opera, and at + once proceeded to reprimand her maid for not having lighted a fire. The + General returned some time afterward, and he was evidently in the best of + spirits. + </p> + <p> + “They have not seen their son,” said Mademoiselle Marguerite to herself, + and this anxiety, combined with many others, tortured her so cruelly, that + she did not fall asleep until near daybreak. Even then she did not slumber + long. It was scarcely half-past seven when she was aroused by a strange + commotion and a loud sound of hammering. She was trying to imagine the + cause of all this uproar, when Madame de Fondege, already arrayed in a + marvellous robe composed of three skirts and an enormous puff, entered the + room. “I have come to take you away, my dear child,” she exclaimed. “The + owner of the house has decided to make some repairs, and the workmen have + already invaded our apartments. The General has taken flight, let us + follow his example—so make yourself beautiful and we’ll go at once.” + </p> + <p> + Without a word, the young girl hastened to obey, while Madame de Fondege + expiated on the delightful drive they would take together in the wonderful + brougham which the General had purchased a couple of days before. As for + Lieutenant Gustave, she did not even mention his name. + </p> + <p> + Accustomed to the superb equipages of the Chalusse establishment, + Mademoiselle Marguerite did not consider the much-lauded brougham at all + remarkable. At the most, it was very showy, having apparently been + selected with a view to attracting as much attention as possible. Madame + de Fondege was not in a mood to consider an objection that morning. She + was evidently in a nervous state of mind, extremely restless and excited + indeed, it seemed impossible for her to keep still. In default of + something better to do, she visited at least a dozen shops, asking to see + everything, finding everything frightful, and purchasing without regard to + price. It might have been fancied that she wished to buy all Paris. About + ten o’clock she dragged Marguerite to Van Klopen’s. Received as a habituee + of the establishment, thanks to the numerous orders she had given within + the past few days, she was even allowed to enter the mysterious saloon in + which the illustrious ruler of Fashion served such of his clients as had a + predilection for absinthe or madeira. On leaving the place, and before + entering the carriage again, Madame de Fondege turned to Marguerite and + inquired: “Where shall we go now? I have given the servants an ‘outing’ on + account of the workmen, and we cannot breakfast at home. Why can’t we go + to a restaurant, we two? Many of the most distinguished ladies are in the + habit of doing so. You will see how people will look at us! I am sure it + will amuse you immensely.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! madame, you forget that it is not a fortnight since the count’s + death!” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Fondege was about to make an impatient reply, but she mastered + the impulse, and in a tone of hypocritical compassion, exclaimed: “Poor + child! poor, dear child! that’s true. I had forgotten. Well, such being + the case, we’ll go and ask Baroness Trigault to give us our breakfast. You + will see a lovely woman.” And addressing the coachman she instructed him + to drive to the Trigault mansion in the Rue de la Ville l’Eveque. + </p> + <p> + When Madame de Fondege’s brougham drew up before the door, the baron was + standing in the courtyard with a cigar between his teeth, examining a pair + of horses which had been sent him on approbation. He did not like his + wife’s friend, and he usually avoided her. But precisely because he was + acquainted with the General’s crime and Pascal’s plans, he thought it + politic to seem amiable. So, on recognizing Madame de Fondege through the + carriage window, he hastened forward with outstretched hand to assist her + in alighting. “Did you come to take breakfast with us?” he asked. “That + would be a most delightful——” + </p> + <p> + The remainder of the sentence died unuttered upon his lips. His face + became crimson, and the cigar he was holding slipped from his fingers. He + had just perceived Mademoiselle Marguerite, and his consternation was so + apparent that Madame de Fondege could not fail to remark it; however, she + attributed it to the girl’s remarkable beauty. “This is Mademoiselle de + Chalusse, my dear baron,” said she, “the daughter of the noble and + esteemed friend whom we so bitterly lament.” + </p> + <p> + Ah! it was not necessary to tell the baron who this young girl was; he + knew it only too well. He was not overcome for long; a thought of + vengeance speedily flashed through his mind. It seemed to him that + Providence itself offered him the means of putting an end to an + intolerable situation. Regaining his self-control by a powerful effort, he + preceded Madame de Fondege through the magnificent apartments of the + mansion, lightly saying: “My wife is in her boudoir. She will be delighted + to see you. But first of all, I have a good secret to confide to you. So + let me take this young lady to the baroness, and you and I can join them + in a moment!” Thereupon, without waiting for any rejoinder, he took + Marguerite’s arm and led her toward the end of the hall. Then opening a + door, he exclaimed in a mocking voice: “Madame Trigault, allow me to + present to you the daughter of the Count de Chalusse.” And adding in a + whisper: “This is your mother, young girl,” he pushed the astonished + Marguerite into the room, closed the door, and returned to Madame de + Fondege. + </p> + <p> + Paler than her white muslin wrapper, the Baroness Trigault sprang from her + chair. This was the woman who, while her husband was braving death to win + fortune for her, had been dazzled by the Count de Chalusse’s wealth, and + who, later in life, when she was the richest of the rich, had sunk into + the very depths of degradation—had stooped, indeed, to a Coralth! + The baroness had once been marvellously beautiful, and even now, many + murmurs of admiration greeted her when she dashed through the Champs + Elysees in her magnificent equipage, attired in one of those eccentric + costumes which she alone dared to wear. She was a type of the wife created + by the customs of fashionable society; the woman who feels elated when her + name appears in the newspapers and in the chronicles of Parisian “high + life”; who has no thought of her deserted fireside, but is ever tormented + by a terrible thirst for bustle and excitement; whose head is empty, and + whose heart is dry—the woman who only exists for the world; and who + is devoured by unappeasable covetousness, and who, at times, envies an + actress’s liberty, and the notoriety of the leaders of the demi-monde; the + woman who is always in quest of fresh excitement, and fails to find it; + the woman who is blase, and prematurely old in mind and body, and who yet + still clings despairingly to her fleeting youth. + </p> + <p> + Inaccessible to any emotion but vanity, the baroness had never shed a tear + over her husband’s sufferings. She was sure of her absolute power over + him. What did the rest matter? She even gloried in her knowledge that she + could make this man—who loved her in spite of everything—at + one moment furious with rage or wild with grief, and then an instant + afterward plunge him into the rapture of a senseless ecstasy by a word, a + smile, or a caress. For such was her power, and she often exercised it + mercilessly. Even after the frightful scene that Pascal had witnessed, she + had made another appeal to the baron, and he had been weak enough to give + her the thirty thousand francs which M. de Coralth needed to purchase his + wife’s silence. + </p> + <p> + However, this time the baroness trembled. Her usual shrewdness had not + deserted her, and she perfectly understood all that Marguerite’s presence + in that house portended. Since her husband brought this young girl—her + daughter—to her he must know everything, and have taken some fatal + resolution. Had she, indeed, exhausted the patience which she had fancied + inexhaustible? She was not ignorant of the fact that her husband had + disposed of his immense fortune in a way that would enable him to say and + prove that he was insolvent whenever occasion required; and if he found + courage to apply for a legal separation, what could she hope to obtain + from the courts? A bare living, almost nothing. In such a case, how could + she exist? She would be compelled to spend her last years in the same + poverty that had made her youth so wretched. She saw herself—ah! + what a frightful misfortune—turfed out of her princely home, and + reduced to furnished apartments rented for five hundred francs a year! + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite was no less startled and horror-stricken than + Madame Trigault, and she stood rooted to the spot, exactly where the baron + had left her. Silent and motionless, they confronted each other for a + moment which seemed a century to both of them. The resemblance—which + had astonished Pascal could not fail to strike them, for it was still more + noticeable now that they stood face to face. But anything was preferable + to this torturing suspense, and so, summoning all her courage, the + baroness broke the silence by saying: “You are the daughter of the Count + de Chalusse?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, but I have no proofs of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And—your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know her; madame, and I have no desire to know her.” + </p> + <p> + Disconcerted by this brief but implacable reply, Madame Trigault hung her + head. + </p> + <p> + “What could I have to say to my mother?” continued Marguerite. “That I + hate her? My courage would fail me to do so. And yet, how can I think + without bitterness of the woman who, after abandoning me herself, + endeavored to deprive me of my father’s love and protection? I could have + forgiven anything but that. Ah! I have not always been so patient and + resigned! The laws of our country do not forbid illigitimate children to + search for their parents, and more than once I have said to myself that I + would discover my mother, and have my revenge.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have no means of discovering her?” + </p> + <p> + “In this you are greatly mistaken, madame. After the Count de Chalusse’s + death, a package of letters, a glove and some withered flowers were found + in one of the drawers of his escritoire.” + </p> + <p> + The baroness started back as if a yawning chasm had suddenly opened at her + feet. “My letters!” she exclaimed. “Ah! wretched woman that I am, he kept + them. It is all over! I am lost, for of course, they have been read?” + </p> + <p> + “The ribbon securing them together has never been untied.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that true? Don’t deceive me! Where are they, then—where are + they?” + </p> + <p> + “Under the protection of the seals affixed by the justice of the peace.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Trigault tottered, as if she were about to fall. “Then it is only a + reprieve,” she moaned, “and I am none the less ruined. Those cursed + letters will necessarily be read, and all will be discovered. They will + see——” The thought of what they would see endowed her with the + energy of despair, and clutching hold of Marguerite’s wrists: “Listen!” + said she, approaching so near that her hot breath scorched the girl’s + cheeks, “no one must be allowed to see those letters!—it must not + be! I will tell you what they contain. I hated my husband; I loved the + Count de Chalusse madly, and he had sworn that he would marry me if ever I + became a widow. Do you understand now? The name of the poison I obtained—how + I proposed to administer it, and what its effects would be—all this + is plainly written in my own handwriting and signed—yes, signed—with + my own name. The plot failed, but it was none the less real, positive, + palpable—and those letters are a proof of it. But they shall never + be read—no—not if I am obliged to set fire to the Hotel de + Chalusse with my own hand.” + </p> + <p> + Now the count’s constant terror, the fear with which this woman had + inspired him, were explained. He was an accomplice—he also had + written no doubt, and she had preserved his letters as he had preserved + hers. Crime had bound them indissolubly together. + </p> + <p> + Horrified beyond expression, Marguerite freed herself from Madame + Trigault’s grasp. “I swear to you, madame, that everything any human being + can do to save your letters shall be done by me,” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “And have you any hope of success?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the girl, remembering her friend, the magistrate. + </p> + <p> + Moved by a far more powerful emotion than any she had ever known before, + the baroness uttered an exclamation of joy. “Ah! how good you are!” she + exclaimed—“how generous! how noble! You take your revenge in giving + me back life, honor, everything—for you are my daughter; do you not + know it? Did they not tell you, before bringing you here, that I was the + hated and unnatural mother who abandoned you?” + </p> + <p> + She advanced with tearful eyes and outstretched arms, but Marguerite + sternly waved her back. “Spare yourself, madame, and spare me, the + humiliation of an unnecessary explanation.” + </p> + <p> + “Marguerite! Good God! you repulse me. After all you have promised to do + for me, will you not forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “I will try to forget, madame,” replied the girl and she was already + stepping toward the door when the baroness threw herself at her feet, + crying, in a heart-rending tone: “Have pity, Marguerite, I am your mother. + One has no right to deny one’s own mother.” + </p> + <p> + But the young girl passed on. “My mother is dead, madame; I do not know + you!” And she left the room without even turning her head, without even + glancing at the baroness, who had fallen upon the floor in a deep swoon. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX + </h2> + <p> + Baron Trigault still held Madame de Fondege a prisoner in the hall. What + did he say to her in justification of the expedient he had improvised? His + own agitation was so great that he scarcely knew, and it mattered but + little after all, for the good lady did not even pretend to listen to his + apologies. Although by no means overshrewd, she suspected some great + mystery, some bit of scandal, perhaps, and her eyes never once wandered + from the door leading to the boudoir. At last this door opened and + Mademoiselle Marguerite reappeared. “Great heavens!” exclaimed Madame de + Fondege; “what has happened to my poor child?” + </p> + <p> + For the unfortunate girl advanced with an automatic tread, her eyes fixed + on vacancy, and her hands outstretched, as if feeling her way. It indeed + seemed to her as if the floor swayed to and fro under her feet, as if the + walls tottered, as if the ceiling were about to fall and crush her. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Fondege sprang forward. “What is the matter, my dearest?” + </p> + <p> + Alas! the poor girl was utterly overcome. “It is but a trifle,” she + faltered. But her eyes closed, her hands clutched wildly for some support, + and she would have fallen to the ground if the baron had not caught her in + his arms and carried her to a sofa. “Help!” cried Madame de Fondege, + “help, she is dying!—a physician!” + </p> + <p> + But there was no need of a physician. One of the maids came with some + fresh water and a bottle of smelling salts, and Marguerite soon recovered + sufficiently to sit up, and cast a frightened glance around her, while she + mechanically passed her hand again and again over her cold forehead. “Do + you feel better my darling?” inquired Madame de Fondege at last. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you gave me a terrible fright; see how I tremble.” But the worthy + lady’s fright was as nothing in comparison with the curiosity that + tortured her. It was so powerful, indeed, that she could not control it. + “What has happened?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, madame, nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “But——” + </p> + <p> + “I am subject to such attacks. I was very cold, and the heat of the room + made me feel faint.” + </p> + <p> + Although she could only speak with the greatest difficulty, the baron + realized by her tone that she would never reveal what had taken place, and + his attitude and relief knew no bounds. “Don’t tire the poor child,” he + said to Madame de Fondege. “The best thing you can do would be to take her + home and put her to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you; but unfortunately, I have sent away my brougham with + orders not to return for me until one o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the only difficulty? If so, you shall have a carriage at once, my + dear madame.” So saying, the baron made a sign to one of the servants, and + the man started on his mission at once. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Fondege was silent but furious. “He is actually putting me out + of doors,” she thought. “This is a little too much! And why doesn’t the + baroness make her appearance—she must certainly have heard my voice? + What does it all mean? However, I’m sure Marguerite will tell me when we + are alone.” + </p> + <p> + But Madame de Fondege was wrong, for she vainly plied the girl with + questions all the way from the Rue de la Ville l’Eveque to the Rue + Pigalle. She could only obtain this unvarying and obstinate reply: + “Nothing has happened. What do you suppose could have happened?” + </p> + <p> + Never in her whole life had Madame de Fondege been so incensed. “The + blockhead!” she mentally exclaimed. “Who ever saw such obstinacy! Hateful + creature!—I could beat her!” + </p> + <p> + She did not beat her, but on reaching the house she eagerly asked: “Do you + feel strong enough to go up stairs alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will leave you. You know Van Klopen expects me again at one + o’clock precisely; and I have not breakfasted yet. Remember that my + servants are at your disposal, and don’t hesitate to call them. You are at + home, recollect.” + </p> + <p> + It was not without considerable difficulty—not without being + compelled to stop and rest several times on her way up stairs—that + Mademoiselle Marguerite succeeded in reaching the apartments of the + Fondege family. “Where is madame?” inquired the servant who opened the + door. + </p> + <p> + “She is still out.” + </p> + <p> + “Will she return to dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Gustave has been here three times already; he was very angry when he + found that there was no one at home—he went on terribly. Besides, + the workmen have turned everything topsy-turvy.” + </p> + <p> + However, Marguerite had already reached her own room, and thrown herself + on the bed. She was suffering terribly. Her brave spirit still retained + its energy; but the flesh had succumbed. Every vein and artery throbbed + with violence, and while a chill seemed to come to her heart, her head + burned as if it had been on fire. “My Lord,” she thought, “am I going to + fall ill at the last moment, just when I have most need of all my + strength?” + </p> + <p> + She tried to sleep, but was unable to do so. How could she free herself + from the thought that haunted her? Her mother! To think that such a woman + was her mother! Was it not enough to make her die of sorrow and shame? And + yet this woman must be saved—the proofs of her crime must be + annihilated with her letters. Marguerite asked herself whether the old + magistrate would have it in his power to help her in this respect. Perhaps + not, and then what could she do? She asked herself if she had not been too + cruel, too severe. Guilty or not, the baroness was still her mother. Had + she the right to be pitiless, when by stretching out her hand she might, + perhaps, have rescued the wretched woman from her terrible life. + </p> + <p> + Thus thinking, the young girl sat alone and forgotten in her little room. + The hours went by, and daylight had begun to wane, when suddenly a shrill + whistle resounded in the street, under her windows. “Pi-ouit.” It came + upon her like an electric shock, and with a bound she sprang to her feet. + For this cry was the signal that had been agreed upon between herself and + the young man who had so abruptly offered to help her on the occasion of + her visit to M. Fortunat’s office. Was she mistaken? No—for on + listening she heard the cry resound a second time, even more shrill and + prolonged than before. + </p> + <p> + This was no time for hesitation, and so she went down-stairs at once. Hope + sent new blood coursing through her veins and endowed her with invincible + energy. On reaching the street-door, she paused and looked around her. At + a short distance off she perceived a young fellow clad in a blouse, who + was apparently engaged in examining the goods displayed in a shop window. + Despite his position, he hurriedly exclaimed: “Follow me at a little; + distance in the rear until I stop.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite, obeyed him in breathless suspense. The young fellow was our + friend Victor Chupin, now somewhat the worse for his encounter with + Vantrasson that same morning. His face was considerably disfigured, and + one of his eyes was black and swollen; nevertheless he was in a state of + ecstatic happiness. Happy, and yet anxious; for, as he preceded + Mademoiselle Marguerite, he said to himself: “How shall I tell her that I + have succeeded? There must be no folly. If I tell her the news suddenly, + she will most likely faint, so I must break the news gently.” + </p> + <p> + On reaching the Rue Boursault, he turned the corner, and paused, waiting + for Mademoiselle Marguerite to join him. “What is the news?” she anxiously + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Everything is progressing finely—slowly, but finely.” + </p> + <p> + “You know something, monsieur! Speak! Don’t you see how anxious I am?” + </p> + <p> + He did see it only too well; and his embarrassment increased to such a + pitch that he began to scratch his head furiously. At last he decided on a + plan. “First of all, mademoiselle, brace yourself against the wall, and + now stand firm. Yes, like that. Now, are you all right? Well, I have found + M. Ferailleur!” + </p> + <p> + Chupin’s precaution was a wise one, for Marguerite tottered. Such a + success, so quickly gained, was indeed astounding. “Is it possible?” she + murmured. + </p> + <p> + “So possible that I have a letter for you from M. Ferailleur in my pocket + mademoiselle. Here it is—I am to wait for an answer.” + </p> + <p> + She took the note he handed her, broke the seal with trembling hand, and + read as follows: + </p> + <p> + “We are approaching the end, my dearest. One step more and we shall + triumph. But I must see you to-day at any risk. Leave the house this + evening at eight o’clock. My mother will be waiting for you in a cab, at + the corner of the Rue Pigalle and the Rue Boursault. Come, and let no fear + of arousing suspicions of the Fondeges deter you. They are henceforth + powerless to injure you.” + </p> + <p> + “PASCAL” + </p> + <p> + “I will go!” replied Marguerite at once, careless of the obstacles that + might impede the fulfilment of her promise. For it was quite possible that + serious difficulties might arise. Madame Leon, who had been invisible + since the morning, might suddenly reappear, or the General and his wife + might return to dinner. And what could Marguerite answer if they asked her + where she wanted to go alone, and at such an hour of the evening? And if + they attempted to prevent her from keeping her appointment, how could she + resist? All these were weighty questions and yet she did not hesitate. + Pascal had spoken, that sufficed, and she was determined to obey him + implicitly, cost what it might. If he advised such a step, it was because + he deemed it best and necessary; and she willingly submitted to the + instructions of the man in whom she felt such unbounded confidence. + </p> + <p> + Having told Chupin that she might be relied upon for the evening, she was + retracing her way home, when suddenly the thought occurred to her that she + ought not to neglect this opportunity to place a decisive weapon in + Pascal’s hands. She was close to the Rue Notre Dame de Lorette and so + without more ado she hurried to the establishment of Carjat the + photographer. He was fortunately disengaged, and she at once obtained from + him a proof of the compromising letter written by the Marquis de Valorsay + to Madame Leon. She placed it carefully in her pocket, thanked the + photographer, and then hurried back to the Rue Pigalle to wait for the + hour appointed in Pascal’s letter. Fortunately none of her unpleasant + apprehensions were realized. The dinner-hour came and passed, and still + the house remained deserted. The workmen had gone off and the laughter and + chatter of the servants in the kitchen were the only sounds that broke the + stillness. Faint for want of food—for she had taken no nourishment + during the day—Marguerite had considerable difficulty in obtaining + something to eat from the servants. At last, however, they gave her some + soup and cold meat, served on a corner of the bare table in the + dining-room. It was half-past seven when she finished this frugal meal. + She waited a moment, and then fearing she might keep Madame Ferailleur + waiting, she went down into the street. + </p> + <p> + A cab was waiting at the corner of the Rue Boursault, as indicated. Its + windows were lowered, and in the shade one could discern the face and + white hair of an elderly lady. Glancing behind her to assure herself that + she had not been followed, Marguerite eagerly approached the vehicle, + whereupon a kindly voice exclaimed: “Jump in quickly, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite obeyed, and the door was scarcely closed behind her before the + driver had urged his horse into a gallop. He had evidently received his + instructions in advance, as well as the promise of a magnificent gratuity. + </p> + <p> + Sitting side by side on the back seat, the old lady and the young girl + remained silent, but this did not prevent them from casting stealthy + glances at each other, and striving to distinguish one another’s features + whenever the vehicle passed in front of some brilliantly lighted shop. + They had never met before, and their anxiety to become acquainted was + intense, for they each felt that the other would exert a decisive + influence upon her life. All of Madame Ferailleur’s friends would + undoubtedly have been surprised at the step she had taken, and yet it was + quite in accordance with her character. As long as she had entertained any + hope of preventing this marriage she had not hesitated to express and even + exaggerate her objections and repugnance. But her point of view was + entirely changed when conquered by the strength of her son’s passion, she + at last yielded a reluctant consent. The young girl who was destined to be + her daughter-in-law at once became sacred in her eyes; and it seemed to + her an act of duty to watch over Marguerite, and shield her reputation. + Having considered the subject, she had decided that it was not proper for + her son’s betrothed to run about the streets alone in the evening. Might + it not compromise her honor? and later on might it not furnish venomous + Madame de Fondege with an opportunity to exercise her slanderous tongue? + Thus the puritanical old lady had come to fetch Marguerite, so that + whenever occasion required she might be able to say: “I was there!” + </p> + <p> + As for Marguerite, after the trials of the day, she yielded without + reserve to the feeling of rest and happiness that now filled her heart. + Again and again had Pascal spoken of his mother’s prejudices and the + inflexibility of her principles. But he had also spoken of her dauntless + energy, the nobility of her nature, and of her love and devotion to him. + With Marguerite, moreover, one consideration—one which she would + scarcely have admitted, perhaps—outweighed all others: Madame + Ferailleur was Pascal’s mother. For that reason alone, if for no other, + she was prepared to worship her. How fervently she blessed this noble + woman, who, a widow, and ruined in fortune by an unprincipled scoundrel, + had bravely toiled to educate her son, making him the man whom Marguerite + had freely chosen from among all others. She would have knelt before this + grand but simple-hearted mother had she dared; she would have kissed her + hands. And a poignant regret came to her heart when she remembered her own + mother, Baroness Trigault, and compared her with this matchless woman. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the cab had passed the outer boulevards, and was now whirling + along the Route d’Asnieres, as fast as the horse could drag it. “We are + almost there,” remarked Madame Ferailleur, speaking for the first time. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite’s response was inaudible, she was so overcome with emotion. The + driver had just turned the corner of the Route de la Revolte; and it was + not long before he checked his panting horse. “Look, mademoiselle,” said + Madame Ferailleur again, “this is our home.” + </p> + <p> + Upon the threshold, bareheaded, and breathless with impatience and hope, + stood a man who was counting the seconds with the violent throbbings of + his heart. He did not wait for the cab to stop, but springing to the door, + he opened it; and then, catching Marguerite in his arms, he carried her + into the house with a cry of joy. She had not even time to look around + her, ere he had placed her in an arm-chair, and fallen on his knees before + her. “At last I see you again, my beloved Marguerite,” he exclaimed. “You + are mine—nothing shall part us again!” + </p> + <p> + They sobbed in each other’s arms. They could bear adversity unmoved; but + their composure deserted them in this excess of happiness; and standing in + the door-way, Madame Ferailleur felt the tears come to her eyes as she + stood watching them. + </p> + <p> + “How can I tell you all that I have suffered!” said Pascal, whose voice + was hoarse with feeling. “The papers have told you all the details, I + suppose. How I was accused of cheating at cards; how the vile epithet + ‘thief’ was cast in my face; how they tried to search me; how my most + intimate friends deserted me; how I was virtually expelled from the Palais + de Justice. All this is terrible, is it not? Ah, well! it is nothing in + comparison with the intense, unendurable anguish I experienced in thinking + that you believed the infamous calumny which disgraced me.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite rose to her feet. “You thought that!” she exclaimed. “You + believed that I doubted you? I! Like you, I have been accused of robbery + myself. Do you believe me guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! I suspect you!” + </p> + <p> + “Then why——” + </p> + <p> + “I was mad, Marguerite, my only love, I was mad! But who would not have + lost his senses under such circumstances? It was the very day after this + atrocious conspiracy. I had seen Madame Leon, and had trusted her with a + letter for you in which I entreated you to grant me five minutes’ + Conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I never received it.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that now; but then I was deceived. I went to the little garden + gate to await your coming, but it was Madame Leon who appeared. She + brought me a note written in pencil and signed with your name, bidding me + an eternal farewell. And, fool that I was, I did not see that the note was + a forgery!” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite was amazed. The veil was now torn aside, and the + truth revealed to her. Now she remembered Madame Leon’s embarrassment when + she met her returning from the garden on the night following the count’s + death. “Ah, well! Pascal,” she said, “do you know what I was doing at + almost the same moment? Alarmed at having received no news from you, I + hastened to the Rue d’Ulm, where I learned that you had sold your + furniture and started for America. Any other woman might have believed + herself deserted under such circumstances, but not I. I felt sure that you + had not fled in ignominious fashion. I was convinced that you had only + concealed yourself for a time in order to strike your enemies more + surely.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not shame me, Marguerite. It is true that of us two I showed myself + the weaker.” + </p> + <p> + Lost in the rapture of the present moment, they had forgotten the past and + the future, the agony they had endured, the dangers that still threatened + them, and even the existence of their enemies. + </p> + <p> + But Madame Ferailleur was watching. She pointed to the clock, and + earnestly exclaimed: “Time is passing, my son. Each moment that is wasted + endangers our success. Should any suspicion bring Madame Vantrasson here, + all would be lost.” + </p> + <p> + “She cannot come upon us unawares, my dear mother. Chupin has promised not + to lose sight of her. If she stirs from her shop, he will hasten here and + throw a stone against the shutters to warn us.” + </p> + <p> + But even this did not satisfy Madame Ferailleur. + </p> + <p> + “You forget, Pascal.” she insisted, “that Mademoiselle Marguerite must be + at home again by ten o’clock, if she consents to the ordeal you feel + obliged to impose upon her.” + </p> + <p> + This was the voice of duty recalling Pascal to the stern realities of + life. He slowly rose, conquered his emotion, and, after reflecting for a + moment, said: “First of all, Marguerite, I owe you the truth and an exact + statement of our situation. Circumstances have compelled me to act without + consulting you. Have I done right or wrong? You shall judge.” And without + stopping to listen to the girl’s protestations, he rapidly explained how + he had managed to win M. de Valorsay’s confidence, discover his plans, and + become his trusted accomplice. “This scoundrel’s plan is very simple,” he + continued. “He is determined to marry you. Why? Because, though you are + not aware of it, you are rich, and the sole heiress to the fortune of the + Count de Chalusse, your father. This surprises you, does it not? Very + well! listen to me. Deceived by the Marquis de Valorsay, the Count de + Chalusse had promised him your hand. These arrangements were nearly + completed, though you had not been informed of them. In fact, everything + had been decided. At the outset, however, a grave difficulty had presented + itself. The marquis wished your father to acknowledge you before your + marriage, but this he refused to do. ‘It would expose me to the most + frightful dangers,’ he declared. ‘However, I will recognize Marguerite as + my daughter in my will, and, at the same time, leave all my property to + her.’ But the marquis would not listen to this proposal. ‘I don’t doubt + your good intentions, my dear count,’ said he,’ but suppose this will + should be contested, your property might pass into other hands.’ This + difficulty put a stop to the proceedings for some time. The marquis asked + for guarantees; the other refused to give them—until, at last, M. de + Chalusse discovered an expedient which would satisfy both parties. He + confided to M. de Valorsay’s keeping a will in which he recognized you as + his daughter, and bequeathed you his entire fortune. This document, the + validity of which is unquestionable, has been carefully preserved by the + marquis. He has not spoken of its existence; and he would destroy it + rather than restore it to you at present. But as soon as you became his + wife, he intended to produce it and thus obtain possession of the count’s + millions.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! the old justice of the peace was not mistaken,” murmured Mademoiselle + Marguerite. + </p> + <p> + Pascal did not hear her. All his faculties were absorbed in the attempt he + was making to give a clear and concise explanation, for he had much to + say, and it was growing late. “As for the enormous sum you have been + accused of taking,” he continued, “I know what has become of it; it is in + the hands of M. de Fondege.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that, Pascal—I’m sure of it; but the proof, the proof!” + </p> + <p> + “The proof exists, and, like the will, it is in the hands of the Marquis + de Valorsay.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible! Great Heavens! You are sure you are not deceived?” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen the proof, and it is overpowering, irrefutable! I have + touched it—I have held it in my hands. And it explains everything + which may have seemed strange and incomprehensible to you. The letter + which M. de Chalusse received on the day of his death was written by his + sister. She asked in it for her share of the family estate, threatening + him with a terrible scandal if he refused to comply with her request. Had + the count decided to brave this scandal rather than yield? We have good + reason to suppose so. However, this much is certain: he had a terrible + hatred, not so much for his sister, perhaps, as for the man who had + seduced her, and afterward married her, actuated by avaricious motives + alone. He had sworn thousands of times that neither husband nor wife + should ever have a penny of the large fortune which really belonged to + them. Believing that a lawsuit was now inevitable, and wishing to conceal + his wealth, he was greatly embarrassed by the large amount of money he had + on hand. What should he do with it? Where could he hide it? He finally + decided to intrust it to the keeping of M. de Fondege, who was known as an + eccentric man, but whose honesty seemed to be above suspicion. So, when he + left home, on the afternoon of his illness, he took the package of + bank-notes and bonds, which you had noticed in the escritoire that + morning, away with him. We shall never know what passed between your + father and the General—we can only surmise. But what I do know, and + what I shall be able to prove, is that M. de Fondege accepted the trust, + and that he gave an acknowledgment of it in the form of a letter, which + read as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘MY DEAR COUNT DE CHALUSSE—I hereby acknowledge the receipt, on + Thursday, October 15, 186-, of the sum of two millions, two + hundred and fifty thousand francs, which I shall deposit, in my + name, at the Bank of France, subject to the orders of Mademoiselle + Marguerite, your daughter, on the day she presents this letter. + And believe, my dear count, in the absolute devotion of your old + comrade, + + “GENERAL DE FONDEGE.’” + </pre> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite was thunderstruck. “Who can have furnished you + with these particulars?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “The Marquis de Valorsay, my dearest; and I will explain how he was + enabled to do so. M. de Fondege wrote the address of his ‘old comrade’ on + this letter, which was folded and sealed, but not enclosed in an envelope. + M. de Chalusse proposed to post it himself, so that the official stamp + might authenticate its date. But on reflection, he became uneasy. He felt + that this tiny, perishable scrap of paper would be the only proof of the + deposit which he had confided to M. de Fondege’s honor. This scrap might + be lost, burned, or stolen. Then what would happen? He had so often seen + trustees betray the confidence of which they had seemed worthy. So M. de + Chalusse racked his brains to discover a means of protection from an + improbable but possible misfortune. He found it. Passing a stationer’s + shop, he went in, purchased one of those letter-presses which merchants + use in their correspondence, and, under pretext of trying it, took a copy + of M. de Fondege’s letter. Having done this, he placed the copy in an + envelope addressed to the Marquis de Valorsay, and, with his heart + relieved of all anxiety, posted it at the same time as the original + letter. A few moments later he got into the cab in which he was stricken + down with apoplexy.” + </p> + <p> + Extraordinary as Pascal’s explanations must have seemed to her, Marguerite + did not doubt their accuracy in the least. “Then it is the copy of this + letter which you saw in the possession of the Marquis de Valorsay?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And the original?” + </p> + <p> + “M. de Fondege alone can tell what has become of that. It is evident that + he has somehow succeeded in obtaining possession of it. Would he have + dared to squander money as he has done if he had not been convinced that + there was no proof of his guilt in existence? Perhaps on hearing of the + count’s sudden death he bribed the concierge at the Hotel de Chalusse to + watch for this letter and return it to him. But on this subject I have + only conjectures to offer. If they wish you to marry their son, it is + probably because it seems too hard that you should be left in abject + poverty while they are enjoying the fortune they have stolen from you. The + vilest scoundrels have their scruples. Besides, a marriage with their son + would protect them against any possible mischance in the future.” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment, and then more slowly resumed: “You see, + Marguerite, we have clear, palpable, and irrefutable proofs of YOUR + innocence; but in my efforts to clear my own name of disgrace, I have been + far less fortunate. I have tried in vain to collect material proofs of the + conspiracy against me. It is only by proving the guilt of the Marquis de + Valorsay and the Viscount de Coralth that I can establish my innocence, + and so far I am powerless to do so.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite’s face brightened with supreme joy. “Then I can + serve you, in my turn, my only love,” she exclaimed. “Ah! blessed be God + who inspired me, and who thus rewards me for an hour of courage. My poor + father’s plan also occurred to me, Pascal. Was it not strange? The + material proof of your innocence which you have sought for in vain, is in + my possession, written and signed by the Marquis de Valorsay. Like M. de + Fondege, he believes that the letter which proves his guilt is + annihilated. He burned it himself, and yet it exists.” So saying, she drew + from her bosom one of the copies which she had received from Carjat the + photographer, and handed it to Pascal, adding, “Look!” + </p> + <p> + Pascal eagerly perused the marvellous facsimile of the letter which the + marquis had written to Madame Leon. “Ah! this is the scoundrel’s death + warrant.” he exclaimed, exultantly. And approaching Madame Ferailleur, who + still stood leaning against the door, silent and motionless: “Look, + mother,” he repeated, “look!” + </p> + <p> + And he pointed to this paragraph which was so convincing and so explicit, + that the most exacting jury would have asked for no further evidence. “I + have formed a plan which will completely efface all remembrance of that + cursed P. F., in case any one could condescend to think of him, after the + disgrace we fastened upon him the other evening at the house of Madame d’A——.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor is this all,” resumed Mademoiselle Marguerite. “There are other + letters which will prove that this plot was the marquis’s work and which + give the name of his accomplice, Coralth. And these letters are in the + possession of a man of dubious integrity, who was once the marquis’s ally, + but who has now become his enemy. He is known as Isidore Fortunat, and + lives in the Place de la Bourse.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite felt that Madame Ferailleur’s keen glance was riveted upon her. + She intuitively divined what was passing in the mind of the puritanical + old lady, and realized that her whole future, and the happiness of her + entire wedded life, depended upon her conduct at that moment. So, desirous + of making a full confession, she hastily exclaimed: “My conduct may have + seemed strange in a young girl, Pascal. A timid, inexperienced girl, who + had been carefully kept from all knowledge of life and evil, would have + been crushed by such a burden of disgrace, and could only have wept and + prayed. I did weep and pray; but I also struggled and fought. In the hour + of peril I found myself endowed with some of the courage and energy which + distinguished the poor women of the people among whom I formerly earned my + bread. The teachings and miseries of the past were not lost to me!” And as + simply as if she were telling the most natural thing in the world, she + described the struggle she had undertaken against the world, strong in her + faith in Pascal and in his love. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are a noble and courageous girl!” exclaimed Madame Ferailleur. + “You are worthy of my son, and you will proudly guard our honest name!” + </p> + <p> + For some little time already the obstinate old lady had been struggling + against the sympathetic emotion that filled her heart, and big tears were + coursing down her wrinkled cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Unable to restrain herself any longer, she now threw both arms around + Marguerite’s neck, and drew her toward her in a long embrace, murmuring: + “Marguerite, my daughter! Ah! how unjust my prejudices were!” + </p> + <p> + It might be thought that Pascal was transported with joy on hearing this, + but no: the lines of care on his forehead deepened, as he said: “Happiness + is so near! Why must a final test, another humiliation, separate us from + it?” + </p> + <p> + But Marguerite now felt strong enough to meet even martyrdom with a smile. + “Speak, Pascal!” said she, “don’t you see that it is almost ten o’clock?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated; there was grief in his eyes and his breath came quick and + hard, as he resumed: “For your sake and mine, we must conquer, at any + price. This is the only reason that can justify the horrible expedient I + have to suggest. M. de Valorsay, as you know, has boasted of his power to + overcome your resistance, and he really believes that he possesses this + power. Why I have not killed him again and again when he has been at my + mercy, I can scarcely understand. The only thing that gave me power to + restrain myself was my desire for as sure, as terrible, and as public a + revenge as the humiliation he inflicted on me. His plan for your ruin is + such as only a scoundrel like himself could conceive. With the assistance + of his vile tool, Coralth, he has formed a league, offensive and + defensive, with the son of the Count de Chalusse’s sister, who is the only + acknowledged heir at this moment—a young man destitute of heart and + intelligence, and inordinately vain, but neither better nor worse than + many others who figure respectably in society. His name is Wilkie Gordon. + The marquis has acquired great influence over him, and has persuaded him + that it is his duty to denounce you to the authorities. He has, in short, + accused you of defrauding the heirs of the Chalusse estate of two millions + of francs and also of poisoning the count.” + </p> + <p> + The girl shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. “As for the robbery, we have + an answer to that,” she answered, “and as regards the poisoning—really + the accusation is too absurd!” + </p> + <p> + But Pascal still looked gloomy. “The matter is more serious than you + suppose,” he replied. “They have found a physician—a vile, cowardly + scoundrel—who for a certain sum has consented to appear in support + of the accusation.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Jodon, I presume!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and this is not all. The count’s escritoire contains the vial of + medicine of which he drank a portion on the day of his death. Well, + to-morrow night, Madame Leon will open the garden gate of the Hotel de + Chalusse and admit a rascal who will abstract the vial.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite shuddered. Now she understood the fiendish cunning of the plot. + “It might ruin me!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Pascal nodded affirmatively. “M. de Valorsay wishes you to consider + yourself as irretrievably lost, and then he intends to offer to save you + on condition that you consent to marry him. I should say, however, that M. + Wilkie is ignorant of the atrocious projects he is abetting. They are + known only to the marquis and M. de Coralth; and it is I who, under the + name of Maumejan, act as their adviser. It was to me that the marquis sent + M. Wilkie for assistance in drawing up this accusation. I myself wrote out + the denunciation, which was as terrible and as formidable as our bitterest + enemy could possibly desire, combining, as it did, with perfidious art, + the reports of the valets and the suspicions of the physician, and + establishing the connection between the robbery and the murder. It + finished by demanding a thorough investigation. And M. Wilkie copied and + signed this document, and carried it to the prosecution office himself.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite sank half-fainting into an arm-chair. “You have + done this!” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “It was necessary, my daughter,” whispered Madame Ferailleur. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was necessary, absolutely necessary,” repeated Pascal, “as you + will see. Justice, which is a human institution, and limited in its + powers, cannot fathom motives, read thoughts, or interfere with plans, + however abominable they may be, or however near realization. Before it can + interfere, the law must have material, tangible proof, convincing to the + senses. Until you are arrested, the crimes committed by M. de Valorsay, + and those associated with him, do not come within the reach of human + justice; but as soon as you are in prison, I can hasten to our friend the + justice of the peace, and we shall go at once to the investigating + magistrate and explain everything. Now, when your innocence and the guilt + of your accusers have been established, what do you fancy the authorities + will do? They will wait until your enemies declare themselves, in order to + capture them all at once, and prevent the escape of a single one. + To-morrow night some clever detectives will watch the Hotel de Chalusse, + and just as Madame Leon and the wretch with her think themselves sure of + success, they will be caught in the very act and arrested. When they are + examined by a magistrate, who is conversant with the whole affair, can + they deny their guilt? No; certainly not. Acting upon their confession, + the authorities will force an entrance into Valorsay’s house, where they + will find your father’s will and the receipt given by M. de Fondege—in + a word, all the proofs of their guilt. And while this search is going on, + all your enemies, reassured by your arrest, will be at a grand soiree + given by Baron Trigault. I shall be there as well.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marguerite had mastered her momentary weakness. She rose to + her feet, and in a firm voice exclaimed: “You have acted rightly.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there was no other way. And yet I wished to see you, to learn if this + course were too repugnant to you.” + </p> + <p> + She interrupted him with a gesture. “When shall I be arrested?” she asked, + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “This evening or to-morrow.” was his answer. + </p> + <p> + “Very well! I have only one request to make. The Fondeges have a son who + has no hand in the affair, but who will be more severely punished than his + parents, if we do not spare them. Could you not——” + </p> + <p> + “I can do nothing, Marguerite. I am powerless now.” + </p> + <p> + Everything was soon arranged. Marguerite raised her forehead to Pascal for + his parting kiss, and went away accompanied by Madame Ferailleur, who + escorted her to the corner of the Rue Boursault. The General and his wife + had returned home in advance of Marguerite. She found them sitting in the + drawing-room, with distorted faces and teeth chattering with fear. With + them was a bearded man who, as soon as she appeared, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “You are Mademoiselle Marguerite, are you not? I arrest you in the name of + the law. There is my warrant.” And without more ado he led her away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. + </h2> + <p> + Money, which nowadays has taken the place of the good fairies of former + times, had gratified M. Wilkie’s every longing in a single night. Without + any period of transition, dreamlike as it were, he had passed from what he + called “straitened circumstances” to the splendid enjoyment of a princely + fortune. Madame d’Argeles’s renunciation had been so correctly drawn up, + that as soon as he presented his claims and displayed his credentials he + was placed in possession of the Chalusse estate. It is true that a few + trifling difficulties presented themselves. For instance, the old justice + of the peace who had affixed the seals refused to remove them from certain + articles of furniture, especially from the late count’s escritoire, + without an order from the court, and several days were needed to obtain + this. But what did that matter to M. Wilkie? The house, with its splendid + reception-rooms, pictures, statuary and gardens, was at his disposal, and + he installed himself therein at once. Twenty horses neighed and stamped in + his stables; there were at least a dozen carriages in the coach-house. He + devoted his attention exclusively to the horses and vehicles; but acting + upon the advice of Casimir, who had become his valet and oracle, he + retained all the former servants of the house, from Bourigeau the + concierge down to the humblest scullery maid. Still, he gave them to + understand that this was only a temporary arrangement. A man like himself, + living in this progressive age, could scarcely be expected to content + himself with what had satisfied the Count de Chalusse. “For I have my + plans,” he remarked to Casimir, “but let Paris wait awhile.” + </p> + <p> + He repudiated his former friends. Costard and Serpillon, pretended + viscounts though they were, were quite beneath the notice of a + Gordon-Chalusse, as M. Wilkie styled himself on his visiting cards. + However, he purchased their share of Pompier de Nanterre, feeling + convinced that this remarkable steeplechaser had a brilliant future before + him. He did not trouble himself to any great extent about his mother. Like + every one else, he knew that she had disappeared, but nothing further. On + the other hand, the thought of his father, the terrible chevalier + d’industrie, hung over his joy like a pall; and each time the great + entrance bell announced a visitor, he trembled, turned pale, and muttered: + “Perhaps it’s he!” + </p> + <p> + Tortured by this fear, he clung closely to the Marquis de Valorsay as if + he felt that this distinguished friend was a powerful support. Besides, + people of rank and distinction naturally exercised a powerful attraction + over him, and he fancied he grew several inches taller when, in some + public place, in the street, or a restaurant, he was able to call out, “I + say, Valorsay, my good friend,” or, “Upon my word! my dear marquis!” + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay received these effusions graciously enough, although, in + point of fact, he was terribly bored by the platitudes of his new + acquaintance. He intended to send him to Coventry later on, but just now + M. Wilkie was too useful to be ignored. So he had introduced him to his + club, and was seen with him everywhere—in the Bois, at the + restaurants, and the theatres. At times, some of his friends inquired: + “Who is that queer little fellow?” with a touch of irony in their tone, + but when the marquis carelessly answered: “A poor devil who has just come + into possession of a property worth twenty millions!” they became serious, + and requested the pleasure and honor of an introduction to this fortunate + young man. + </p> + <p> + So M. de Valorsay had invited Gordon-Chalusse to accompany him to Baron + Trigault’s approaching fete. It was to be an entertainment for gentlemen + only, a monster card-party; but every one knew the wealthy baron, and no + doubt with a view of stimulating curiosity he had declared, and the Figaro + had repeated, that he had a great surprise in store for his guests. Oh! + such a surprise! They could have no idea what it was! This fete was to + take place on the second day after Mademoiselle Marguerite’s arrest; and + on the appointed evening, between nine and ten o’clock, M. de Valorsay and + his friend Coralth sat together in the former’s smoking-room waiting for + Wilkie to call for them, as had been agreed upon. They were both in the + best of spirits. The viscount’s apprehensions had been entirely dispelled; + and the marquis had quite forgotten the twinges of pain in his injured + limb. “Marguerite will only leave prison to marry me,” said M. de + Valorsay, triumphantly; and he added: “What a willing tool this Wilkie is! + A single word sufficed to make him give all his servants leave of absence. + The Hotel de Chalusse will be deserted, and Madame Leon and Vantrasson can + operate at their leisure.” + </p> + <p> + It was ten o’clock when M. Wilkie made his appearance. “Come, my good + friends!” said he, “my carriage is below.” + </p> + <p> + They started off at once, and five minutes later they were ushered into + the presence of Baron Trigault, who received M. Wilkie as if he had never + seen him before. There was quite a crowd already. At least three or four + hundred people had assembled in the Baron’s reception-rooms, and among + them were several former habitues of Madame d’Argeles’s house; one could + also espy M. de Fondege ferociously twirling his mustaches as usual, + together with Kami-Bey, who was conspicuous by reason of his portly form + and eternal red fez. However, among these men, all noticeable for their + studied elegance of attire and manner, and all of them known to M. de + Valorsay, there moved numerous others of very different appearance. Their + waistcoats were less open, and their clothes did not fit them as + perfectly; on the other hand, there was something else than a look of + idiotic self-complacency on their faces. “Who can these people be?” + whispered the marquis to M. de Coralth. “They look like lawyers or + magistrates.” But although he said this he did not really believe it, and + it was without the slightest feeling of anxiety that he strolled from + group to group, shaking hands with his friends and introducing M. Wilkie. + </p> + <p> + A strange rumor was in circulation among the guests. Many of them declared—where + could they have heard such a thing?—that in consequence of a quarrel + with her husband, Madame Trigault had left Paris the evening before. They + even went so far as to repeat her parting words to the Baron: “You will + never see me again,” she had said. “You are amply avenged. Farewell!” + However, the best informed among the guests, the folks who were thoroughly + acquainted with all the scandals of the day, declared the story false, and + said that if the baroness had really fled, handsome Viscount de Coralth + would not appear so calm and smiling. + </p> + <p> + The report WAS true, however. But M. de Coralth did not trouble himself + much about the baroness now. Had he not got in his pocket M. Wilkie’s + signature insuring him upward of half a million? Standing near one of the + windows in the main reception-room, between the Marquis de Valorsay and M. + Wilkie, the brilliant viscount was gayly chatting with them, when a + footman, in a voice loud enough to interrupt all conversation, suddenly + announced: “M. Maumejan!” + </p> + <p> + It seemed such a perfectly natural thing to M. de Valorsay that Maumejan, + as one of the baron’s business agents, should be received at his house, + that he was not in the least disturbed. But M. de Coralth, having heard + the name, wished to see the man who had aided and advised the marquius so + effectually. He abruptly turned, and as he did so the words he would have + spoken died upon his lips. He became livid, his eyes seemed to start from + their sockets, and it was with difficulty that he ejaculated: “He!” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” inquired the astonished marquis. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” + </p> + <p> + M. de Valorsay did so, and to his utter amazement he perceived a numerous + party in the rear of the man announced under the name of Maumejan. First + came Mademoiselle Marguerite, leaning on the arm of the white-haired + magistrate, and then Madame Ferailleur; next M. Isidore Fortunat, and + finally Chupin—Victor Chupin, resplendent in a handsome, bran-new, + black dress-suit. + </p> + <p> + The marquis could no longer fail to understand the truth. He realized who + Maumejan really was, and the audacious comedy he had been duped by. He was + so frightfully agitated that five or six persons sprang forward + exclaiming: “What is the matter, marquis? Are you ill?” But he made no + reply. He felt that he was caught in a trap, and he glanced wildly around + him seeking for some loophole of escape. + </p> + <p> + However, the word of command had evidently been given. Suddenly all the + guests scattered about the various drawing-rooms poured into the main + hall, and the doors were closed. Then, with a solemnity of manner which no + one had ever seen him display before, Baron Trigault took the so-called + Maumejan by the hand and led him into the centre of the apartment opposite + the lofty chimney-piece. “Gentlemen,” he began, in a commanding tone, + “this is M. Pascal Ferailleur, the honorable man who was falsely accused + of cheating at cards at Madame d’Argeles’s house. You owe him a hearing.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal was greatly agitated. The strangeness of the situation, the + certainty of speedy and startling rehabilitation, perhaps the joy of + vengeance, the silence, which was so profound that he could hear his own + panting breath, and the many eyes riveted upon him, all combined to + unnerve him. But only for a moment. He swiftly conquered his weakness, and + surveying his audience with flashing eyes, he explained, in a clear and + ringing voice, the shameful conspiracy to obtain possession of the count’s + millions, and the abominable machinations by which Mademoiselle Marguerite + and himself had been victimized. Then when he had finished his + explanations he added, in a still more commanding voice, “Now look; you + can read the culprits’ guilt on their faces. One is the scoundrel known to + you as the Viscount de Coralth, but Paul Violaine is his true name. He was + formerly an accomplice of the notorious Mascarot; he is a cowardly + villain, for he is married, and leaves his wife and children to die of + starvation!” The Viscount de Coralth fairly bellowed with rage. But Pascal + did not heed him. “The other criminal is the Marquis de Valorsay,” he + added, in the same ringing tone. There was, moreover, a third culprit who + would have inspired mingled pity and disgust if any one had noticed him + shrinking into a corner, terrified and muttering: “It wasn’t my fault, my + wife compelled me to do it!” This was General de Fondege. + </p> + <p> + Pascal did not mention his name. But it was not absolutely necessary he + should do so, and besides, he remembered Marguerite’s entreaty respecting + the son. + </p> + <p> + However, while the young lawyer was speaking, the marquis had summoned all + his energy and assurance to his aid. Desperate as his plight might be, he + would not surrender. “This is an infamous conspiracy,” he exclaimed. + “Baron, you shall atone for this. The man’s an impostor!—he lies!—all + that he says is false!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is false!” echoed M. de Coralth. + </p> + <p> + But a clamor arose, drowning these protestations, and the most opprobrious + epithets could be heard on every side. + </p> + <p> + “How will you prove your assertion?” cried M. de Valorsay. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t try that dodge on us!” shouted Chupin. “Vantrasson and mother Leon + have confessed everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Who defrauded us all with Domingo?” cried several people; and, loud above + all the others, Kami-Bey bawled out: “To say nothing of the fact that the + sale of your racing stud was a complete swindle!” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Pascal’s former friends and associates, his brother advocates + and the magistrates who had listened to his first efforts at the bar, + crowded round him, pressing his hands, embracing him almost to + suffocation, censuring themselves for having suspected him, the very soul + of honor, and pleading in self-justification the degenerate age in which + we live—an age in which we daily see those whom we had considered + immaculate suddenly yield to temptation. And a murmur of respectful + admiration rose from the throng when the excitement had subsided a little, + and the guests had an opportunity to observe Mademoiselle Marguerite, + whose eyes sparkled more brightly than ever through her happy tears; and + whose beauty acquired an almost sublime expression from her deep emotion. + </p> + <p> + The wretched Valorsay felt that all was over—that he was + irretrievably lost. Seized by a blind fury like that which impels a hunted + animal to turn and face the hounds that pursue him, and bid them defiance, + he confronted the throng with his face distorted with passion, his eyes + bloodshot, and foam upon his lips; he was absolutely frightful in his + cynicism, hatred, and scorn. “Ah! well, yes!” he exclaimed—“yes, all + that you have just heard is true. I was sinking, and I tried to save + myself as best I could. Beggars cannot be choosers; I staked my all upon a + single die. If I had won, you would have been at my feet; but I have lost + and you spurn me. Cowards! hypocrites! that you are, insult me if you + like, but tell me how many among you all are sufficiently pure and upright + to have a right to despise me! Are there a hundred among you? are there + even fifty?” + </p> + <p> + A tempest of hisses momentarily drowned his voice, but as soon as the + uproar had ceased, he resumed, sneeringly: “Ah! the truth wounds you, my + dear friends. Pray, don’t pretend to be so distressingly virtuous! I was + ruined—that is the long and short of it. But what man of you is not + embarrassed? Who among you finds his income sufficient? Which one of you + is not encroaching upon his capital? And when you have come to your last + louis, you will do what I have done, or something worse. Do not deny it, + for not one among you has a more uncompromising conscience, more moral + firmness, or more generous aspirations than I once possessed. You are + pursuing what I pursued. You desire what I desired—a life of luxury, + brief if it must be, but happy—a life of gayety, wild excitement, + and dissipation. You, too, have a passion for pleasure and gambling, + race-horses, and notorious women, a table always bountifully spread, + glasses ever overflowing with wine, all the delights of luxury, and + everything that gratifies your vanity! But an abyss of shame awaits you at + the end of it all. I am in it now. I await you there, for there you will + surely, necessarily, inevitably come. Ah, ha! you will not then think my + downfall so very strange. Let me pass! make way! if you please.” + </p> + <p> + He advanced with his head haughtily erect, and would actually have made + his escape if a frightened servant had not at that moment appeared crying: + “Monsieur—Monsieur le Baron! a commissary of police is downstairs. + He is coming up. He has a warrant!” + </p> + <p> + The marquis’s frenzied assurance deserted him. He turned even paler than + he already was if that were possible, and reeled like an ox but partially + stunned by the butcher’s hammer. Suddenly a desperate resolution could be + read in his eyes, the resolution of the condemned criminal, who, knowing + that he cannot escape the scaffold, ascends it with a firm step. + </p> + <p> + He hastily approached Baron Trigault, and asked in a husky voice: “Will + you allow me to be arrested in your house, baron? me—a Valorsay!” + </p> + <p> + It might have been supposed that the baron had expected this reproach, for + without a word he led the marquis and M. de Coralth to a little room at + the end of the hall, pushed them inside, and closed the door again. + </p> + <p> + It was time he did so, for the commissary of police was already upon the + threshold. “Which of you gentlemen is the Marquis de Valorsay?” he asked. + “Which of you is Paul Violaine, alias the Viscount de——” + </p> + <p> + The sharp report of firearms suddenly interrupted him. Every one at once + rushed to the little room, where the wretched men had been conducted. + There extended, face upward, on the floor, lay the Marquis de Valorsay, + with his brains oozing from his fractured skull, and his right hand still + clutching a revolver. He was dead. “And the other!” cried the throng; “the + other!” + </p> + <p> + The open window, and a curtain rudely torn from its fastenings and secured + to the balustrade, told how M. de Coralth had made his escape. It was not + till later that people learned what precautions the baron had taken. On + the table in that room he had laid two revolvers, and two packages + containing ten thousand francs each. The viscount had not hesitated. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Pascal Ferailleur and Mademoiselle Marguerite de Chalusse were married at + the church of Saint Etienne du Mont, only a few steps from the Rue d’Ulm. + Those who knew the mystery connected with the bride’s parentage were + greatly astonished when they saw Baron Trigault act as a witness on this + occasion, in company with the venerable justice of the peace. But such was + the fact, nevertheless. Treated more and more outrageously by his daughter + and her husband, separated from his wife, who had nearly lost her reason, + although her letters were saved, the baron has nowadays found affection + and a home with Pascal and his wife. He plays cards but seldom now—only + an occasional game of piquet with Madame Ferailleur, and he amuses himself + by making her start when she is too long in discarding, by ejaculating, in + a stentorian voice: “We are wasting precious time!” Sometimes they go out + together, to the great astonishment of such as chance to meet the + puritanical old lady leaning on the baron’s arm. She often goes to visit + and console the widow Gordon, formerly known as Lia d’Argeles, who now + keeps an establishment near Montrouge, where she provides poor, betrayed + and forsaken girls with a home and employment. She has yet to receive any + token of remembrance from her son. As for her husband, she supposes he is + dead or incarcerated in some prison. + </p> + <p> + It is to Madame Gordon that the Fondeges are often indebted for bread. + Obliged to disgorge their plunder, and left with no resources save the + fifty francs a month allowed them by their son, who has been promoted to + the rank of captain, their poverty is necessarily extreme. Oh! those + Fondeges! M. Fortunat only speaks of them with horror. But he is loud in + his praises of Madame Marguerite, who repaid him the forty thousand francs + he had advanced to M. de Valorsay. He speaks in the highest terms of + Chupin also; but in this, he is scarcely sincere, for Victor, who has been + set up in business by Pascal, told him very plainly that he was determined + not to put his hand to any more dirty work, and that expression, “dirty + work,” rankles in M. Fortunat’s heart. + </p> + <p> + Chupin’s resolution did not, however, prevent him from attending the trial + of Vantrasson and Madame Leon—the former of whom was sentenced to + hard labor for life, and the latter to ten years’ imprisonment. Nothing is + known concerning M. de Coralth; but his wife has disappeared, to the great + disappointment of M. Mouchon. As a dentist, Dr. Jodon is successful. As + for M. Wilkie, you can learn anything you wish to know concerning him in + the newspapers, for his sayings, doings, and movements, are constantly + being chronicled. The reporters exhaust all the resources of their + vocabulary in describing his horses, carriages, and stables, and the + gorgeous liveries of his servants. His changes of residence are always + mentioned; his brilliant sayings are quoted. He is a social success; he is + admired, fondled, and flattered. He makes a great stir in the fashionable + world—in fact, he reigns over it like a king. After all, assurance + is the winning card in the game of life! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Baron Trigault’s Vengeance, by Emile Gaboriau + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARON TRIGAULT’S VENGEANCE *** + +***** This file should be named 547-h.htm or 547-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/547/ + +Produced by 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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |