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diff --git a/547-0.txt b/547-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3b75002 --- /dev/null +++ b/547-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12853 @@ +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 *** + + + + + + + + + + +BARON TRIGAULT’S VENGEANCE + +by Emile Gaboriau + + + +A Sequel to “The Count’s Millions” + + + + + +I + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +“Then the woman doesn’t please you, mother?” + +“I want you to see her.” + +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. + +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. + +“What would you charge per month?” inquired Pascal. + +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. + +“I shall do the marketing myself,” declared Madame Ferailleur, boldly. + +“Then I shall want thirty francs a month,” replied Madame Vantrasson, +promptly. + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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?” + +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.” + +Pascal shook his head dejectedly. “Didn’t you hear, mother?” he +faltered. + +“Hear what?” + +“What that vile woman said? This young lady whom she spoke of, whom her +husband recognized, can be none other than Marguerite.” + +“I am sure of it.” + +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!” + +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.” + +“In that case, mother,” said Pascal, “you were wrong to interrupt Madame +Vantrasson. She would probably have told us many things.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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?” + +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?” + +The servant laughed heartily. “This is certainly his house,” he replied, +“and strange to say, by some fortunate chance, he’s here.” + +“I wish to speak with him on business.” + +The servant called one of his colleagues. “Eh! Florestan--is the baron +receiving?” + +“The baroness hasn’t forbidden it.” + +This seemed to satisfy the footman; for, turning to Pascal he said: “In +that case, you can follow me.” + + + + +II. + + +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. + +“Tell me,” inquired the servant who was escorting Pascal, “can any one +speak to the baron?” + +“Why?” + +“This gentleman has something to say to him.” + +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!” + +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?” + +“No; this morning it’s about M. Van Klopen.” + +“Madame’s dressmaker?” + +“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.” + +“And M. Van Klopen?” + +“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----” + +“What! hasn’t he been paid then?” + +“I don’t know; he’s still here.” + +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.” + +“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----” + +“Nonsense, it’s the fashion. Besides, monsieur does not care about that. +A man who----” + +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.” + +“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. + +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----” + +“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.” + +This time it was the master of the house, Baron Trigault, who spoke, and +Pascal recognized his voice instantly. + +“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.” + +“I was obliged to attend the races very frequently during the month of +June,” remarked the baroness. + +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----” + +“And I was certainly not the most elegantly attired of the ladies at +Trouville, where I spent the month of July,” interrupted the baroness. + +“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. + +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!” + +“Yes, that’s all,” repeated the baroness, like an echo. + +“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!” + +“The dresses of the present day require a great deal of material. +Monsieur le Baron will understand that flounces, puffs, and ruches----” + +“Naturally! Total, twenty-seven thousand francs!” + +“Excuse me! Twenty-seven thousand nine hundred and thirty-three francs, +ninety centimes.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“I remember, indeed----” + +“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.” + +“Madame promised me----” + +“Teach her to keep her promises.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“No!” + +“If not for my sake, for your own.” + +“Not a farthing.” + +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.” + +“Send him along--send him along.” + +“I cannot believe that monsieur wishes a law-suit.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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----” + +“Monsieur----” + +“Leave, leave, I tell you, or I sha’n’t have the patience to wait for a +servant!” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +The baron must really have started to leave the room, for his wife +exclaimed: “One word more: have you quite decided?” + +“Oh, fully!” + +“You are resolved to leave me exposed to the persecutions of my +dressmaker?” + +“Van Klopen is too charming and polite to cause you the least worry.” + +“You will brave the disgrace of a law-suit?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“I should see nothing so very improper in that.” + +“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.” + +“It would indeed be a pity to arouse the disapproval of your friends.” + +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!” + +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----” + +“Monsieur,” interrupted the baroness, in a voice husky with anger, “you +forget yourself--you----” + +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!” + +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.” + +“Why? Do they ever trouble honest women?” + +“They wouldn’t trouble me if I had a husband who knew how to make them +treat me with respect!” + +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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“It is false!” + +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!” + +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.” + +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. + +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?” + +“Always the same ridiculous accusation!” exclaimed the baroness. + +“Yes, always!” + +“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.” + +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!” + +“What! you blame me for that?” + +“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!” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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!” + +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----” + +“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!” + +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. + + + + +III. + + +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.” + +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. + +“Your servants ushered me into this room.” + +“Who are you?” + +“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. + +“I have never met any person named Maumejan,” said the baron. + +“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?” + +“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. + +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. + +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?” + +“Not a word.” + +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!” + +“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!” + +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!” + +Pascal recoiled with an exclamation of mingled horror and consternation. + +“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!” + +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. + +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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“What! you suppose----” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“The Marquis de Valorsay.” + +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.” + +“Still it was he who incited M. de Coralth to do the deed.” + +“But why? What could have been his object?” + +“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----” + +“Is Valorsay so madly in love with the girl, then?” + +“I think he cares but very little for her.” + +“Then why----” + +“She is the heiress of several millions.” + +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----” + +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. + +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?” + +“I think so, monsieur. You probably intend me to hear the conversation +you are going to have with M. de Valorsay.” + +“Exactly. I shall leave the door open, and you can listen.” + +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.” + +“Or you, that I am right?” + +“So be it. Any one is liable to be mistaken, and I am not obstinate.” + +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.” + +“Speak, Monsieur Ferailleur.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Nonsense!” + +“It is the truth, however. I have been led to this determination by the +infamous slander which has been circulated respecting me.” + +This answer was a mere trifle, but it somewhat shook Baron Trigault’s +confidence. “You have been slandered!” he muttered. + +“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!” + +“Who has dared to circulate such a report?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“What! you are going to sell----” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“You!” + +“Yes, I. What, haven’t you heard of it, yet? It has been talked of at +the club for three days or more.” + +“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.” + +“Who, pray?” + +“Ninette Simplon.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“You are mistaken.” + +“How mistaken?” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“Well, yes.” + +The baron opened his eyes in astonishment. “Ah! then you adore your +future bride!” + +“Adore only feebly expresses my feelings.” + +“I must be dreaming.” + +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!” + +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.” + +“You are wrong. My future bride has no other name than her Christian +name of Marguerite.” + +“It is a regular romance then!” + +“You are quite right; it is a romance. Were you acquainted with the +Count de Chalusse, who died a few days ago?” + +“No; but I have often heard him spoken of.” + +“Well, it is his daughter whom I am about to marry--his illegitimate +daughter.” + +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?” + +“A mere chance--a fatality. M. de Chalusse died very suddenly; he had no +time to make a will or to acknowledge his daughter.” + +“But why had he not taken some precautions?” + +“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.” + +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!” + +“Isn’t it? It is as good as a novel.” + +“Would it be--indiscreet----” + +“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?” + +“Yes,” faltered the baron; “why--why, indeed?” + +“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----” + +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?” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +The baron with difficulty repressed a movement of eager curiosity, and +remarked: “What a peculiar name!” + +“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.” + +This name and address were engraved upon the baron’s memory, never to be +effaced. + +“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.” + +“The count was a patient man,” sneered the baron. + +“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.” + +The baron sprang to his feet with a passionate exclamation. “The vile +wretch!” he said. + +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.” + +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!” + + + + +IV. + + +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. + +“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.” + +“Only a preface?” + +“Yes; but don’t be discouraged. I have arrived at the object of my visit +now.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“A nice little sum, indeed!” + +“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.’” + +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!” + +It was not disappointment that showed itself on the marquis’s face; it +was absolute despair, quickly concealed. + +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.” + +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!” + +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?” + +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?” + +“Ah, monsieur! how can I tell?” + +“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.” + +“But she is innocent, monsieur; she has never wronged you.” + +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.” + +“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!” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“What, monsieur! Can you doubt it after your conversation with him?” + +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.” + +“You must see, then--” + +“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.” + +“Yes, monsieur, yes--the scoundrel dared to say so. Ah! if I had not +been deterred by a fear of losing my revenge!” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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?” + +Pascal tried to find a satisfactory answer, but failed. + +“There must be some iniquitous mystery in this affair, which neither you +nor I suspect,” remarked the baron. + +“That is exactly what my mother told me.” + +“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?” + +“Yes.” + +“And she has suddenly broken off the engagement?” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“She has requested me NEVER to try to see her again.” + +“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.” + +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----” + +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. + +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.” + +“Very well,” said M. Trigault. “I will go with you at once.” + + + + +V. + + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“If he were not guilty, and afraid of detection, he wouldn’t pay forfeit +to-day nor sell his horses.” + +“He only retires from the turf because he’s going to marry----” + +“Nonsense! That’s no reason whatever.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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!” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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: + + +“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.” + + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +“You here, at sunrise, my friend!” exclaimed Wilkie, as he entered the +room where the viscount was seated. “What has happened?” + +“To me?--nothing,” replied the viscount. “It was solely on your account +that I deviated from my usual habits.” + +“What is it? You frighten me.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“Never in all my life have I spoken more seriously,” insisted the +viscount. + +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----” + +But M. de Coralth checked him, saying gravely: “Upon my honor, I am not +jesting. What would you give a man who--” + +“I would give him half of the fortune he gave me.” + +“That’s too much!” + +“No, no!” + +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? + +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. + +“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.” + +M. Wilkie started back in speechless amazement. + +“This astonishes you!” said the viscount; “and why, pray? Is it because +I ask for a commission?” + +“Oh! not at all!” + +“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.” + +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?” + +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.” + +“On the day after to-morrow! You won’t leave me in suspense for +forty-eight hours?” + +“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.” + +“Oh, no! You may rest assured I won’t.” + +“I should be quieter in mind if I had your promise in writing.” + +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: + +“Very well. I will see you again on Monday.” + +But M. Wilkie’s doubts were beginning to return. “Monday, so be it!” + said he; “but swear that you are not deceiving me.” + +“What, do you still doubt me?” + +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.” + +“Certainly,” interrupted the viscount, cordially. “Certainly; with the +greatest pleasure.” + +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?” + +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. + +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?” + +“I didn’t see how it could interest you in the least.” + +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.” + +“How can you think----” + +“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.” + +“Excuse me! The step I am about to take----” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“Oh, you may rest assured of that.” + +“And when he becomes rich, will you be able to retain your influence +over him?” + +“Rich or poor, I can mould him like wax.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +M. Wilkie extended his hand and solemnly exclaimed: “I swear!” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“Go on,” insisted M. Wilkie. + +“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.” + +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!” + + + + +VI. + + +“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. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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? + +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! + +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! + +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.” + +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. + +“Madame knows that the baron is never at home. I did go there, however, +but in vain.” + +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. + +“I only returned to inform madame that I had so far been unsuccessful,” + said Job. “But I will recommence the search at once.” + +“That is unnecessary,” replied Madame d’Argeles. “The baron will +undoubtedly drop in this evening, after dinner, as usual.” + +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?” + +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. + +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.” + +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?” + +“You, my poor Lia--nothing!” + +“Then--what is it? Oh, my God! you frighten me.” + +“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.” + +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!” + +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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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? + +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.” + +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!” + +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!” + +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!” + +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?” + +“That I have been cruelly punished for not wishing you to assist that +unfortunate man who was dishonored here the other evening.” + +“Pascal Ferailleur?” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“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--” + +The baron interrupted her, and exclaimed, indignantly: “Ah! what does +that matter? It was none the less an abominable action.” + +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!” + +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.” + +At that same moment Madame d’Argeles finished her narrative. “And now, +what shall I do?” she added. + +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.” + +“But M. de Coralth will speak out as soon as he finds that I have +revealed his shameful past.” + +“Let him speak.” + +Madame d’Argeles shuddered. “Then the name of Chalusse will be +disgraced,” said she; “and Wilkie will know who his mother is.” + +“No.” + +“But----” + +“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.” + +“Great heavens!” murmured Madame d’Argeles, “why did this idea never +occur to me?” + +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.” + +“Oh, very clearly!” + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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?” + +“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.’” + +“And what will become of me?” + +“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.” + +Madame d’Argeles sprang to her feet. “Never never!” she exclaimed, +vehemently. + +The baron evidently thought he must have misunderstood her. “What!” he +stammered; “you will relinquish the millions that are legally yours, to +the government?” + +“Yes--I am resolved--it must be so.” + +“Will you sacrifice your son’s future in this style?” + +“No, it isn’t in my power to do that; but Wilkie will do so, later, on, +I’m sure of it.” + +“But this is simply folly.” + +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!” + +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. + +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.” + +“My banking account is always at your disposal, Lia.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“I will lose no time. M. Ferailleur is a very clever lawyer, I am told. +I will consult him.” + +“And what shall I do about this man Fortunat, who called upon me?” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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!” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +VII. + + +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.” + +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.” + +His companion rose proudly. “If it fails, it won’t be from any fault of +mine,” he answered with unmistakable petulance. + +“Lose no time.” + +“There’s no danger of that.” + +“And understand, that whatever happens, my name is not to be mentioned.” + +“Yes, yes.” + +“If there should be any new revelations, I will inform you.” + +“At the club?” + +“Yes, but don’t be uneasy; the affair is as good as concluded.” + +“I hope so, indeed.” + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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--” + +“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!” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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----” + +“You are Monsieur Wilkie!” interrupted Madame d’Argeles, in a tone of +mingled irony and disdain. + +“Yes,” he replied, drawling out the name affectedly, “I am M. Wilkie.” + +“Did you desire to speak with me?” inquired Madame d’Argeles, dryly. + +“In fact--yes. I should like----” + +“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!” + +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?” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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----” + +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!” + +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!” + +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.” + +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.” + +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!” + +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. + +“Madame!” + +She heaved a deep sigh, and in a half-stifled voice: + +“MADAME!” she repeated. “Will you not call me mother?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“No, indeed. Not at all! What an idea!” + +“Tell me that you forgive me!” + +“I do, upon my word I do.” + +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!” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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?” + +“What?” + +She hung her head, and in an almost inaudible voice replied, “The past, +Wilkie.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“I have considered. It is decided--mother.” + +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.” + +M. Wilkie positively felt like a man who had just fallen from the +clouds. “What, fly?” he stammered. “Where shall we go, then?” + +“To a country where we are unknown, Wilkie--to a land where you will not +have to blush for your mother.” + +“But--” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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?” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“But--” + +“What! would you still consent to receive the allowance I have made you, +even if I consented to continue it?” + +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?” + +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.” + +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!” + +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.” + +For some time already the ingenious young man had shown unmistakable +signs of impatience. This gloomy prediction irritated him beyond +endurance. + +“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.” + +Madame d’Argeles did not wince. “What do you mean to do then?” she +asked, coldly. “I don’t understand you.” + +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?” + +“What fortune?” + +“Eh? why, my uncle’s, of course! Your brother’s, the Count de Chalusse.” + +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?” + +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?” + +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.” + +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.” + +“Even if I entreated you on my knees not to do so?” + +“Yes.” + +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.” + +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.’” + +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?” + +“If you are not reasonable----” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +He scarcely deigned to come back, and he made no attempt to conceal his +impatience. “Well, what is it?” he asked, hastily. + +“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.” + +“Why?” + +“Because, though this fortune belongs to me, the control of it belongs +to your father.” + +M. Wilkie was thunderstruck. “To my father?” he exclaimed. “Impossible!” + +“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----” + +“Bah!” + +“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.” + +Wilkie’s face was whiter than his shirt. “You are deceiving me,” he +stammered. + +“To-morrow I will show you my marriage certificate.” + +“Why not this evening?” + +“Because it is locked up in a room which is now full of people.” + +“And what was my father’s name?” + +“Arthur Gordon--he is an American.” + +“Then my name is Wilkie Gordon?” + +“Yes.” + +“And---is my father rich?” he inquired. + +“No.” + +“What does he do?” + +“Everything that a man can do when he has a taste for luxury and a +horror for work.” + +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!” + +“He lives at Baden or Homburg in the summer; in Paris or at Monaco in +the winter.” + +“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.” + +“No.” + +“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----” + +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!” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“In the little sitting-room.” + +“Alone?” + +“No; a young gentleman is with her.” + +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!” + +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?” + +“By the right that every honest man possesses to chastise a cowardly +rascal.” + +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----” + +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!” + +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--” + +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. + +The worthy youth was frightened--so terribly frightened that his teeth +chattered. “Pardon!” he faltered. + +“Louder--speak up better than that. Your mother must answer you!” + +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!” + +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.” + +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!” + +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!” + +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. + +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!” + +“I have sent him away,” replied the baron. + +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!” + +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.” + +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.” + +“Ah! my dear friend, how do you know what shameful advice he may have +received before coming to you?” + +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----” + +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----” + +“What business agent?” inquired the baron. + +“The person who called here the other day, M. Isidore Fortunat. Ah! why +didn’t I not bribe him to hold his peace?” + +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.” + +“Then who could have betrayed my secret?” + +“Why, your former ally, the rascal for whose sake you allowed Pascal +Ferailleur to be sacrificed--the Viscount de Coralth!” + +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!” + +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.” + +She hung her head and made no reply. She had forgotten this. + +“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.” + +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--” + +“Alas!” faltered Madame d’Argeles, “I am none the less ruined--the name +of Chalusse is none the less dishonored!” + +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. + + + + +VIII. + + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +But the man did not stir. “Pardon--excuse me, monsieur,” he said, “but +my employers bade--requested me----” + +“What?” + +“To ask you--you know, for the fare--thirty-five francs--not counting +the little gratuity.” + +“Very well!--I will pay you to-morrow.” + +“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.” + +“What, scoundrel!” + +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.” + +The man went to his carriage lamp to count the money, and seeing that he +had the exact amount--“And my gratuity?” he asked. + +“I give none to insolent people,” replied the General. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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!” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“How can I apologize, madame,” began Mademoiselle Marguerite, “for all +the trouble I am giving you?” + +“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!” + +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. + +“What!” gasped Madame de Fondege, “you haven’t put this room in order, +Justine?” + +“Indeed, madame, I haven’t had time.” + +“But it’s more than a month since M. Gustave slept here?” + +“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----” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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?” + +“About my mourning, madame?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“Excuse me, madame. What I did, I did for my own pleasure.” + +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?” + +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----.” + +“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.” + +“But I already have more dresses than I need, madame.” + +“What! black dresses?” + +“I seldom wear anything but black.” + +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.” + +A tear fell from Marguerite’s long lashes. “I was very happy there, +madame,” she murmured. + +“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.” + +“Oh! madame----” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“This is the first time I ever heard the name mentioned.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +Madame de Fondege pointed to Mademoiselle Marguerite, and exclaimed: +“Wait, at least, until I am alone before you speak to me on business.” + +Madame Landoire shrugged her shoulders. “As if you were ever alone,” she +growled. “I wish to put an end to this.” + +“Step into my room then, and we will put an end to it, and at once.” + +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.” + +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?” + +“Don’t speak of it, my dear young lady; they were all of them away from +home--they had gone to the play.” + +“Ah?” + +“So I shall go again early to-morrow morning; you must realize how +important it is.” + +“Yes, I understand.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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!” + + + + +IX + + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +Marguerite staggered as if she had received a heavy blow. “My God! a +letter from the Marquis de Valorsay!” she thought. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“My God!” exclaimed Marguerite, with bated breath, “if she would only +forget it!” + +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. + +“I shall never know, then,” thought Marguerite; “no, I shall never know. +But I must know--and I will!” she added vehemently. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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! + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +And a few moments afterward they left the house together. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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?” + +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.” + +“Thank you.” + +The grocer stepped to the door to watch her. “That girl’s certainly +light-headed,” he thought. + +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. + +“He is here,” replied the man. “Does madame come for a photograph?” + +“Yes.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“But----” + +“At once, I tell you. Go and tell him that he must come.” + +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.” + +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?” + +“I have a great favor to ask of you, monsieur.” + +“Of me?” + +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.” + +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. + +“Oh! monsieur, how can I ever thank you?” + +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.” + +“Speak, madame.” + +“Will the copy you obtain be precisely like the original in every +particular?” + +“In every particular.” + +“The writing will be the same--exactly the same?” + +“Absolutely the same.” + +“So like, that if one of your photographs should be presented to the +person who wrote this letter----” + +“He could no more deny his handwriting than he could if some one handed +him the letter itself.” + +“And the operation will leave no trace on the original?” + +“None.” + +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?” + +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.” + +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?” + +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.” + +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.” + +Greatly moved, she offered him her hand, and simply said, “Thanks; I am +more than repaid.” + +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----” + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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.” + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + + + + +X. + + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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----” + +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.” + +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.” + +“Keep it yourself, Victor,” said M. Fortunat. + +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. + +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?” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“No doubt; but the most important thing is to know how he’s living now, +and on what!” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“Too much, Victor, my boy, too much----” + +“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----” + +“In short, you don’t think I offer you enough?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“As upon yourself.” + +“And you hope to have some positive information by Tuesday?” + +“Before then, I hope, if nothing goes amiss.” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“Unfortunately, I don’t know.” + +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. + +“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. + +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: + + “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.” + +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!” + +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.” + +The waiters examined the address. “Coralth!” they replied. “We scarcely +know him. He isn’t a regular customer, but he comes here occasionally.” + +“And where does he live?” + +“Why do you wish to know?” + +“So as to take him this letter, to be sure!” + +The waiters shrugged their shoulders. “Let the letter go; it is not +worth while to trouble yourself.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +“And if you don’t find the viscount,” added the waiters, “bring the +money here, and it will be returned to him.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“But you promised me.” + +“That’s true, mamma; but business, you see--business.” + +The worthy woman shook her head. “Always business!” she exclaimed. + +“Yes--when a fellow hasn’t ten thousand francs a year.” + +“You have become a worker, Toto, and that makes me very happy; but you +are too eager for money, and that frightens me.” + +“That’s to say, you fear I shall do something dishonest. Ah! mother! do +you think I can forget you and Monsieur Andre?” + +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.” + +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. + +“Yes, mother.” + +“But why have you put on your blouse, my son?” + +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. + +“But, mother----” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Very well; but now, at this moment, where are you going?” + +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.” + +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----” + +“For this once, you may go, Toto; I give my consent.” + +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?” + +“Yes. What do you want with him?” + +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.” + +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?” + +“Is there any lady who’s likely to send such flowers as these to YOU?” + was the response. + +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!” + +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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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?” + +“Certainly, or rather twice a day--morning and evening--at his +toilette.” + +Chupin expressed his feelings with a grimace and an exclamation of +mocking wonder. “Ah, well! he must have a clean skin,” he said. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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?” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +Chupin’s appearance must have inspired confidence, for the servant +replied:--“Well--I don’t refuse--but we’ll see.” + +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. + +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.” + +“That’s true!” replied Chupin; “but how about the other?” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +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!” + +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!” + +“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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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!” + +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?” + +“To Baron Trigault,” replied the man, without releasing his hold on his +pipe. + +“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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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. + + + + +XI. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“What do you wish, sir?” asked the woman. + +“Nothing; I bring you a letter, madame.” + +“A letter for me! You must be mistaken.” + +“Excuse me; aren’t you Madame Paul?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then this is for you.” And he handed her the missive which Florent had +confided to his care. + +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!” + +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.” + +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!” + +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?” + +Meanwhile M. Mouchon had finished reading the letter. “What did I tell +you?” he said complacently. + +“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?” + +“No, no!” exclaimed the elderly gentleman, in evident dismay. “You must +strike the iron while it’s hot.” + +“But he promises me----” + +“To promise and to keep one’s promises are two different things.” + +“He wants a reply.” + +“Tell him----” But he stopped short, calling her attention with a +gesture to the messenger, whose eyes were glittering with intense +curiosity. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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?” + +“Paul.” + +“Do you know your father?” + +“No.” + +“Doesn’t your mother ever talk to you about him?” + +“Oh, yes!” + +“And what does she say?” + +“That he’s rich--very rich.” + +“And what else?” + +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. + +“Never.” + +“Why?” + +“Mamma is very poor.” + +“And wouldn’t you like to go and see him?” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“Oh, yes!--that’s Mouchon.” + +“And who’s Mouchon?” + +“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.” + +“Does he often come to see you?” + +“Every evening. He always has goodies in his pocket for mamma and me.” + +“Why does he sit in that back room without any light?” + +“Oh, he says that the customers mustn’t see him.” + +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.” + +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!” + +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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“He’ll hate me.” + +“The man who wants his dog to love him, beats it; and, besides, when the +wine is drawn, one must drink it.” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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?” + +“They have been executed, monsieur.” + +“Did you see the baroness?” + +“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.” + +M. de Coralth seemed to breathe more freely. “And the other party?” he +inquired. + +“Gave me this for monsieur.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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?” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“I don’t understand you, sir,” replied the girl. + +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.” + +“But I had not told you----” + +“What you wished of me--that’s true. But I allowed myself to +suspect----” + +“Ah!” + +“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.” + +Marguerite sprang to her feet, at once agitated and alarmed. “How did +you know this?” she exclaimed. + +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?” + +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.” + +“Ah!” thought Chupin, “my employer is well under way.” + +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.” + +Completely mistress of herself, Mademoiselle Marguerite listened with an +impassive face. “I know all this,” she replied, in a frigid tone. + +“What! you know----” + +“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?” + +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.” + +“And the marquis could urge this claim if he became my husband?” + +“Certainly he could.” + +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.” + +“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?” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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?” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“They cannot be considered.” + +“And why?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +Mademoiselle Marguerite shook her head. “You are mistaken, sir,” said +she. + +“There can be no mistake about what I have just told you.” + +“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.” + +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!” + + + + +XII. + + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +“Yes, mother, beyond my hopes.” + +“I was not deceived, then, in the worthy man who came to offer us his +assistance?” + +“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----” + +“What?” + +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.” + +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!” + +“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. + +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. + +“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!’” + +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. + +“Would you try to defend her?” exclaimed Madame Ferailleur. “Do you +really think one can atone for a fault by a crime?” + +“No, certainly not, but----” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Then you know nothing of Mademoiselle Marguerite’s past life. Is it +possible she never told you anything about it?” + +“I only know that she has been very unhappy.” + +“Has she never alluded to the time when she was an apprentice?” + +“She has only told me that she earned her living with her own hands at +one time of her life.” + +“Well, I am better informed on the subject.” + +Pascal’s amazement was changed to terror. “You, mother, you!” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Yes.” + +“And you went without warning me?” + +“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.” + +“This idea occurred to you so suddenly!” + +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?” + +“Good Heavens!” + +“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.” + +It seemed to Pascal that the throbbing of his heart stopped his breath. + +“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.” + +“And you saw them?” + +“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.” + +“Ah! you see, mother, you see!” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Dear Marguerite!” murmured Pascal, “dear Marguerite!” And then aloud: +“But where did you learn these last details, mother?” he inquired. + +“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.” + +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?” + +“No, my son, nothing that I have learned gives me the right to do so.” + +“The right! Ah, you are unjust, mother.” + +“Unjust! Haven’t I faithfully reported all that was told me, although I +knew it would only increase your passion?” + +“That’s true, but----” + +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----” + +“Ah! mother, is that Marguerite’s fault?” + +“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!” + +Pascal had become very pale. “Mother!” he said in a quivering voice, +“mother!” + +“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.” + +“What does calumny matter? it will never shake my faith in her. The +misfortunes which you reproach Marguerite for sanctify her in my eyes.” + +“Pascal!” + +“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.” + +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?” + +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!” + +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?” + +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. + +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.” + +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?” + +“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----” + +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.” + +“A proof?” + +“Yes.” + +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?” + +“And it’s quite true, mother.” + +“She worked diligently, you said, so as to improve herself?” + +“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.” + +“If she wrote you a note would it be written grammatically, and be free +from any mistakes in spelling?” + +“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.” + +Madame Ferailleur drew her spectacles from their case, and, after +adjusting them, she began to read. + +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!” + +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: + +“But, these letters have the irreparable fault of being addressed to +you, Pascal!” + +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.” + +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!” + +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.” + +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. + +“What?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Now turn to the page I have marked,” said Madame Ferailleur. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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. + +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.” + +“Then you prefer to leave her exposed to these dangers?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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? + +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!” + + + + +XIII. + + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“That’s the baroness,” whispered the servant, after she had passed. + +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. + +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. + +But as soon as Pascal entered, the baron rose, and cordially holding out +his hand, exclaimed, “Ah! here you are at last, Monsieur Maumejan!” + +So he had not forgotten the name which Pascal had assumed. This was a +favorable omen. “I called, monsieur----” began the young man. + +“Yes--I know--I know!” interrupted the baron. “Come, we must have a +talk.” + +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.” + +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?” + +“Nothing, monsieur, nothing! Only I was asking myself--if I ought--if I +can accept this money.” + +“Bah! and why not?” + +“Because if you lend it to M. de Valorsay, it is perhaps lost.” + +“PERHAPS! You are polite----” + +“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?” + +“But isn’t this money absolutely necessary to enable you to win +Valorsay’s confidence?” + +“Yes, and if it belonged to me I should not hesitate.” + +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.” + +“Oh!” + +“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.” + +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!” + +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.” + +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.” + +“Nonsense!” + +“You offer me just what I came to ask for.” + +“So much the better.” + +“But you will allow me to explain my intentions?” + +“It is quite unnecessary, my dear sir.” + +“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--” + +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.’” + +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!” + +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. + +“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!” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“About what, prince?” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“That’s true--but we ought to play every day.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +It was with this encouraging thought that he approached the house. + +“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.” + +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.” + +At last the valet returned. “The marquis will see you now, monsieur,” + said he. + +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. + +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. + +“M. Maumejan,” said he, “Baron Trigault’s agent?” + +“Yes, monsieur----” + +“Pray be seated. I am just finishing here; I shall be at leisure in a +moment.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“I am really very sorry to keep you waiting so long, but some one is +waiting for this work to be completed.” + +“Oh! pray continue, Monsieur le Marquis,” interrupted Pascal. “Strange +to say, I have a little leisure at my command just now.” + +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.” + +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? + +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.” + +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.” + +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?” + +Pascal shook his head, as he replied: “I regret to say that I don’t, +Monsieur le Marquis.” + +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.” + +“It is only too serious!” + +“But I had the baron’s word.” + +“Oh! his word!” + +“I had his solemn promise.” + +“It is sometimes impossible to keep one’s promises, sir.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“He is indeed!” + +“Poor baron! Ah! I pity him--pity him deeply.” + +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.” + +“Nonsense! a man worth seven or eight millions of francs.” + +“I should say ten millions, at least.” + +“Then the excuse is all the more absurd.” + +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.” + +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?” + +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.’” + +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.” + +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. + +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--” + +“Ah! you don’t know----” began M. de Valorsay, but he stopped short. It +was time. The truth had almost escaped his lips. + +“Know what?” inquired Pascal. + +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.” + +“A debt of one hundred thousand francs?” + +“No, it is only twenty-five thousand.” + +“Is it possible that a rich man like you can be troubled about such a +trifling sum, which any one would lend you?” + +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.” + +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----” + +“Well?” + +“I would offer to obtain you these twenty-five thousand francs.” + +“You?” + +“Yes, I.” + +“Before six o’clock this evening?” + +“Certainly.” + +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. + +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!” + +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----” + +“If what?” + +“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?” + +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.” + +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.” + +These ideas and recollections were of considerable assistance in +restoring Valorsay’s composure. “Enough said, then,” he answered, +lightly. “I accept with pleasure. But----” + +“Ah! so there is a but!” + +“There is always one. I must warn you that it will be difficult for me +to repay this loan in less than two months.” + +This, then, was the time he thought necessary for the accomplishment of +his designs. + +“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.” + +“What is that?” + +“What will this negotiation cost me?” + +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.” + +“Bah!” + +“Plus the remuneration for my trouble and services.” + +“And what remuneration will satisfy you?” + +“One thousand francs. Is it too much?” + +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!” + +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----” + +“I did not say so,” interrupted M. de Valorsay, quickly--“I did not even +think it!” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“By four o’clock.” + +“And I need fear no disappointment as in the baron’s case?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“But----” + +“Enough! Let the lady and gentleman wait.” + +The servant withdrew. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Kami-Bey?” + +“Yes.” And in a few words, Pascal explained the situation. + +“Providence is certainly on our side,” said the baron, thoughtfully. +“Kami is still here.” + +“Is it possible?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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?” + +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.” + +“Cheated! it was worse than highway robbery.” + +“Would it be indiscreet to ask you by whom you have been defrauded?” + +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.” + +“But, prince, in France folks don’t do a scoundrel the honor to cross +swords with him.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Truly?” + +“You have our word of honor,” replied both the baron and Pascal in a +breath. + +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.” + +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.” + +“Oh!” + +“But you must allow me to remark that the baron and myself retract the +promise we made you just now.” + +“Naturally.” + +“Then, your defrauder is the Marquis de Valorsay!” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“How did you fail to discover this at the outset, prince?” inquired +Pascal in an incredulous tone. + +“Because my time was so much occupied.” + +“But your servants?” + +“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.” + +“Then, how were your suspicions aroused?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“Had I been in your place I should have quietly instituted an +investigation.” + +“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.” + +“Eh! why didn’t you tell us that at first?” cried the baron. + +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. + +“And what do you intend to do, prince?” asked Pascal. + +“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!” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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?” + +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.” + +“And if I told you that I am--almost ruined, what would you reply?” + +“I shouldn’t be so very much surprised.” + +M. de Valorsay had now gone too far to draw back. “Ah, well!” he +resumed, “the truth is this--my affairs are terribly involved.” + +“The devil! You should have told me that sooner.” + +“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.” + +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.” + + + + +XIV. + + +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. + +“Another fellow who’s had bad luck!” they remarked sneeringly to one +another. + +“No doubt about that. He is pretty effectually used up, judging from +appearances,” one of them remarked. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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?” + +“Viscount!” + +“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!” + +“Ah, well! it wasn’t from choice. I had been there twice before, and had +the doors shut in my face.” + +“You ought to have gone back ten times, a hundred times, a thousand +times, rather than have accomplished such an idiotic prank as this.” + +“Excuse me.” + +“What did I recommend? Prudence, calmness and moderation, persuasive +gentleness, sentiments of the loftiest nature, tenderness, a shower of +tears----” + +“Possibly, but----” + +“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!” + +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.” + +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?” + +“First I should like----” + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“Eh! what! You know him then?” + +“Yes, Madame d’Argeles’s defender is Baron Trigault.” + +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----” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“I should like to know who will prevent it?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Well, you can demand satisfaction when you obtain possession of your +property: but the least scandal now would spoil your last chances.” + +“I will abandon the project, then,” sighed Wilkie, despondently; “but +pray advise me. What do you think of my situation?” + +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.” + +“Alas! that is precisely what I have said to myself.” + +“Still, I am convinced that with some assistance you might overcome your +mother’s resistance, and even your father’s pretentions.” + +“Yes, but where could I find protectors?” + +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.” + +“The one who is so well known upon the turf?” + +“The same.” + +“And you will introduce me to him?” + +“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.” + +Thanks to the surprising mutability of temper which was the most +striking characteristic of his nature, M. Wilkie was already consoled +for his blunder. + +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. + +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?” + +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. + +“Why do you say ‘already?’” replied the viscount. “I am a quarter of an +hour behind time. Are you not ready?” + +“Yes, certainly.” + +“Let us start at once, then; my brougham is outside.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“But it is understood that you will help him, is it not?” + +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.” + +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!” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Ah! but how?” + +“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.” + +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?” + +Fortunately M. de Coralth knew how to encourage him. “What! are you +afraid?” he asked. + +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. + +“What an idiot!” muttered M. de Coralth. “And to think that there are +ten thousand in Paris built upon the very same plan!” + +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!” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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.” + +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!” + +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----” + +“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. + +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. + +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?” + +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.” + +“I am not moving.” + +“Nonsense! you can’t make me believe that! What’s the meaning of these +carts in the courtyard?” + +“They are here to convey all the furniture in the house to the +auction-rooms.” + +Wilkie was struck dumb for a moment, but eventually recovering himself a +little, he exclaimed: “What! you are going to sell everything?” + +“Yes.” + +“Astonishing, upon my honor! But afterward?” + +“I shall leave Paris.” + +“Bah! and where are you going?” + +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.” + +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----” + +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.” + +“Ah--so----” + +“Your threats obliged me to decide contrary to my own wishes. I felt +that no amount of slander or disgrace would daunt you.” + +“Of course not, when so many millions are at stake.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“What! your renunciation. Oh! no.” + +“Allow me to finish since you don’t understand me. As soon as I renounce +the inheritance it becomes yours.” + +“Truly?” + +“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.” + +It was joy that made M. Wilkie speechless now. “And when will you give +me these documents?” he faltered, after a short pause. + +“You shall have them before you leave this house; but first of all I +must talk with you.” + + + + +XV. + + +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?” + +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. + +“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. + +“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? + +“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. + +“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. + +“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!” + +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. + +“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!’ + +“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!’ + +“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.” + +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!” + +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.’ + +“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. + +“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.’ + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +Moved by the thought of the danger he had escaped, M. Wilkie shuddered. +“B-r-r-r!” he growled. “You did well to hesitate.” + +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!” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +This last word fell like a cold shower-bath upon Wilkie’s exultant joy. +“What is this condition?” he anxiously inquired. + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“And this man’s name?” + +“Is Isidore Fortunat. I saved his card for you. Here it is.” + +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.” + +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. + +“Ah!” + +“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.” + +“And the other one?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Sign,” interrupted Madame d’Argeles, coldly. + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“My God! do you know him?” + +“He is one of my most intimate friends.” + +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? + +“Well?” insisted M. Wilkie, in surprise. + +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.” + +“Ah! you little know him!” + +“I have warned you.” + +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. + +“Before night I shall have left this house,” she answered. + +“Of course. But you are going to give me your new address.” + +“No.” + +“What?--No!” + +She shook her head sadly, and in a scarcely audible voice responded: “It +is not likely that we shall meet again.” + +“And the two millions that I am to turn over to you?” + +“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!” + + + + +XVI. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“You are certainly more courageous than I fancied,” said M. de Valorsay +gravely, when the narrative was ended. + +“Is that really so?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +M. Wilkie bounded from his chair. “Immense sums!” he exclaimed. “Is it +possible!” + +“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.” + +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?” + +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.” + +“And who was that?” + +“Mademoiselle Marguerite.” + +“I don’t know the lady.” + +“She’s a young girl who is--at least people say--the count’s +illegitimate daughter. Her word was law in the house.” + +“What has become of her?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Very well,” replied M. de Valorsay, “ask him to wait. When I ring, you +can usher him in.” Then addressing M. Casimir, he added: + +“You may retire for the present, but don’t leave the house. M. Wilkie +will acquaint you with his intentions by and by.” + +The valet thereupon backed out of the room, bowing profoundly. + +“There is a story for you!” exclaimed M. Wilkie as soon as the door was +closed. “A robbery of two millions!” + +The marquis shook his head, and remarked, gravely: “That’s a mere +nothing. I suspect something far more terrible.” + +“What, pray? Upon my word! you frighten me.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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----” + +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----” + +“To affirm what?” interrupted M. Wilkie. + +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.” + +Whiter than his shirt, and trembling like a leaf, M. Wilkie sprang +from his chair. “I understand!” he exclaimed. “The count was +murdered--poisoned.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“And this person?” + +“Is the count’s illegitimate daughter, who lived in the house with +him--Mademoiselle Marguerite.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Pray tell me, my dear marquis,” sighed Wilkie. “You would render me an +immense service by doing so.” + +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.” + +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?” + +“I should appeal to the authorities.” + +“Ah!” + +“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.” + +“Yes, that would be an excellent idea; but there is one slight +drawback--I don’t know how to draw up such a communication.” + +“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.” + +This last reason was more than sufficient to fix M. Wilkie’s choice. +“Where can I find him?” he inquired. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +The doctor had already taken up his hat and cane. + +“You will excuse me for leaving you so abruptly, Monsieur le Marquis,” + said he, “but I have an engagement to discuss a business matter.” + +“Indeed!” + +“I am negotiating for the purchase of a dentist’s establishment.” + +“What, you?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Really?” + +“Upon my honor!” + +“And when can you let me have the money?” + +“In three or four days’ time.” + +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.” + +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?” + +The viscount turned as if he had been suddenly aroused from slumber. +“I’m well enough,” he answered somewhat roughly. “I was only thinking.” + +“Your thoughts are not very pleasant, to judge from the look on your +face.” + +“No. I was thinking of the fate that you are preparing for us.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“I wish I could believe you.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Excuse me; it won’t be found.” + +“But why?” + +“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.” + +“Who will remove it?” + +“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.” + +The viscount remarked, with an ironical air: “All that is perfect; but +the autopsy will reveal the falseness of the accusation.” + +“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?’” + +“I think she will say: ‘Save me and I will marry you!’” + +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.” + +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!” + +“Admirable, undoubtedly; but terribly complicated. When there are so +many wheels within wheels, one of them is always sure to get out of +order.” + +“Nonsense!” + +“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?” + +“Each of them is as much interested in my success as I am myself.” + +“But we have enemies--Madame d’Argeles, Fortunat----” + +“Madame d’Argeles is about to leave Paris. If Fortunat is troublesome I +will purchase his silence; Maumejan has promised me money.” + +But M. de Coralth had kept his strongest argument until the last. “And +Pascal Ferailleur?” said he. “You have forgotten him.” + +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.” + +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!” + +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. + +“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. + +M. de Valorsay had turned very pale. “Defer your complaints until +another time,” he said, harshly. “What has happened? Tell me.” + +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.’” + +“And is that all?” + +“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.” + +“Do you hear that, viscount?” exclaimed M. de Valorsay. + +“Yes! You shall have the explanation to-morrow,” answered M. de Coralth. + +“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?” + +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.” + + + + +XVII. + + +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.” + +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.” + +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----” + +“But what, monsieur?” + +“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.” + +“And what do you wish?” + +“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.” + +Mademoiselle Marguerite reflected for a moment, and then bowing her +head, she replied: + +“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.” + +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?” + +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.” + +A crimson flush spread over Mademoiselle Marguerite’s face. Still she +answered, unaffectedly, “I will give you M. Ferailleur’s photograph +to-morrow, monsieur.” + +“Then I shall be all right!” exclaimed Chupin. “Have no fears, +mademoiselle, we shall outwit these scoundrels!” + +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.” + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“Ten days, if necessary,” rejoined Chupin. + +“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.” + +“Then I must question the three drivers.” + +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.” + +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?” + +“It’s astonishing! But where can I find this driver?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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!” + +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!” + +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? + +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. + +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. + +“Nothing. I wished to speak with your wife.” + +“She has gone out. She works for a family in the morning.” + +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.” + +“So you have a secret to tell my wife?” + +“Not at all.” + +“Won’t I do as well, then?” + +“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?” + +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: + +“Yes, my wife went to the Havre station for some baggage last Sunday.” + +“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.” + +The ruse was not particularly clever, but it was sufficiently so to +deceive Vantrasson. “To whom am I to send this receipt?” he asked. + +“To me, Victor Chupin, Faubourg Saint Denis,” was the reply. + +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?” + +“Yes, certainly.” + +“And you are in the employment of the Railway Company?” + +“As I just told you.” + +“That doesn’t prevent you from acting as a collector, does it?” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +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.” + +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.” + +“Certainly. I was preparing for it a moment ago.” + +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. + +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!” + +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?” + +“Not so fast, m’sieur! Don’t be so rough! You hurt me. I’m sent by +Mademoiselle Marguerite!” + + + + +XVIII. + + +“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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“By not attempting to thank me at all, and by reading this letter as +soon as possible.” + +The note she now produced ran as follows: + + +“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!” + + +“Well!” said the spurious dressmaker, when she saw that Marguerite +had finished reading the letter. “What answer shall I take my +brother-in-law?” + +“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.” + +“Give it to me in writing, it is much the safest way.” + +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!” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +“I don’t know,” answered Marguerite. + +“Really! But at least you understand my motive in asking this question?” + +“No.” + +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!’” + +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!” + +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!” + +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?” + +The lieutenant started as if he had been lashed with a whip. “Ah! you +are severe!” he exclaimed. + +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.” + +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.” + +“Excuse me--you forget that my mother----” + +“Your mother has only known me for a week.” + +An expression of intense surprise appeared on the lieutenant’s face. “Is +it possible?” he murmured. + +“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.” + +“My parents told me that you were the daughter of the Count de Chalusse, +mademoiselle.” + +“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.” + +“Oh!” + +“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.” + +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. + +“I am not exaggerating--I possess but ten thousand francs in the +world--I swear it by all that I hold sacred.” + +“That would not even be the dowry required of an officer’s wife by law,” + muttered the lieutenant. + +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.” + +“Mademoiselle----” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“I forgive you, monsieur.” + +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.” + +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?” + +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.” + +“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?” + +She did not withdraw her icy hand, and in a scarcely audible voice, she +repeated: “We are friends?” + +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. + +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?” + +“The General has just gone to his club.” + +“And my mother?” + +“A friend of hers called a few moments ago to take her to the opera.” + +“What madness!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“Ah! madame, you forget that it is not a fortnight since the count’s +death!” + +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. + +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----” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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?” + +“I think so, but I have no proofs of it.” + +“And--your mother?” + +“I don’t know her; madame, and I have no desire to know her.” + +Disconcerted by this brief but implacable reply, Madame Trigault hung +her head. + +“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.” + +“But you have no means of discovering her?” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“The ribbon securing them together has never been untied.” + +“Is that true? Don’t deceive me! Where are they, then--where are they?” + +“Under the protection of the seals affixed by the justice of the peace.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“And have you any hope of success?” + +“Yes,” replied the girl, remembering her friend, the magistrate. + +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?” + +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.” + +“Marguerite! Good God! you repulse me. After all you have promised to do +for me, will you not forgive me?” + +“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.” + +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. + + + + +XIX + + +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?” + +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. + +Madame de Fondege sprang forward. “What is the matter, my dearest?” + +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!” + +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. + +“Yes.” + +“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. + +“Nothing, madame, nothing.” + +“But----” + +“I am subject to such attacks. I was very cold, and the heat of the room +made me feel faint.” + +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.” + +“I agree with you; but unfortunately, I have sent away my brougham with +orders not to return for me until one o’clock.” + +“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. + +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.” + +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?” + +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!” + +She did not beat her, but on reaching the house she eagerly asked: “Do +you feel strong enough to go up stairs alone?” + +“Yes, madame.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“She is still out.” + +“Will she return to dinner?” + +“I don’t know.” + +“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.” + +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?” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“Everything is progressing finely--slowly, but finely.” + +“You know something, monsieur! Speak! Don’t you see how anxious I am?” + +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!” + +Chupin’s precaution was a wise one, for Marguerite tottered. Such a +success, so quickly gained, was indeed astounding. “Is it possible?” she +murmured. + +“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.” + +She took the note he handed her, broke the seal with trembling hand, and +read as follows: + + +“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.” + +“PASCAL” + + +“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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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?” + +“Good God! I suspect you!” + +“Then why----” + +“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.” + +“Alas! I never received it.” + +“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!” + +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.” + +“Do not shame me, Marguerite. It is true that of us two I showed myself +the weaker.” + +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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +But even this did not satisfy Madame Ferailleur. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Ah! the old justice of the peace was not mistaken,” murmured +Mademoiselle Marguerite. + +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.” + +“I know that, Pascal--I’m sure of it; but the proof, the proof!” + +“The proof exists, and, like the will, it is in the hands of the Marquis +de Valorsay.” + +“Is it possible! Great Heavens! You are sure you are not deceived?” + +“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: + + “‘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.’” + +Mademoiselle Marguerite was thunderstruck. “Who can have furnished you +with these particulars?” she inquired. + +“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.” + +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?” + +“Yes.” + +“And the original?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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!” + +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!” + +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----.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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!” + +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?” + +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?” + +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.” + +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!” + +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.” + +“Dr. Jodon, I presume!” + +“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.” + +Marguerite shuddered. Now she understood the fiendish cunning of the +plot. “It might ruin me!” she murmured. + +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.” + +Mademoiselle Marguerite sank half-fainting into an arm-chair. “You have +done this!” she faltered. + +“It was necessary, my daughter,” whispered Madame Ferailleur. + +“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.” + +Mademoiselle Marguerite had mastered her momentary weakness. She rose to +her feet, and in a firm voice exclaimed: “You have acted rightly.” + +“Ah! there was no other way. And yet I wished to see you, to learn if +this course were too repugnant to you.” + +She interrupted him with a gesture. “When shall I be arrested?” she +asked, quietly. + +“This evening or to-morrow.” was his answer. + +“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----” + +“I can do nothing, Marguerite. I am powerless now.” + +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: + +“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. + + + + +XX. + + +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.” + +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!” + +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!” + +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. + +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.” + +It was ten o’clock when M. Wilkie made his appearance. “Come, my good +friends!” said he, “my carriage is below.” + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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!” + +“Who?” inquired the astonished marquis. + +“Look!” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +“Yes, it is false!” echoed M. de Coralth. + +But a clamor arose, drowning these protestations, and the most +opprobrious epithets could be heard on every side. + +“How will you prove your assertion?” cried M. de Valorsay. + +“Don’t try that dodge on us!” shouted Chupin. “Vantrasson and mother +Leon have confessed everything.” + +“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!” + +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. + +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?” + +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.” + +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!” + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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----” + +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!” + +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. + +* * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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! + + + + + +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 547-0.txt or 547-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/547/ + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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