"When I think," said Coleridge, "that every morning, in Paris alone,thirty thousand fellows wake up, and rise with the fixed and settledidea of appropriating other people's money, it is with renewed wonderthat every night, when I go home, I find my purse still in my pocket."And yet it is not those who simply aim to steal your portemonnaiewho are either the most dishonest or the most formidable.
To stand at the corner of some dark street, and rush upon the firstman that comes along, demanding, "Your money or your life," is but apoor business, devoid of all prestige, and long since given up tochivalrous natures.
A man must be something worse than a simpleton to still ply histrade on the high-roads, exposed to all sorts of annoyances on thepart of the gendarmes, when manufacturing and financial enterprisesoffer such a magnificently fertile field to the activity ofimaginative people.
And, in order to thoroughly understand the mode of proceeding inthis particular field, it is sufficient to open from time to time acopy of "The Police Gazette," and to read some trial, like that, forinstance, of one Lefurteux, ex-president of the Company for theDrainage and Improvement of the Orne Swamps.
This took place less than a month ago in one of the police-courts.
The Judge to the Accused - Your profession?
M.Lefurteux - President of the company.
Question - Before that what were you doing?
Answer - I speculated at the bourse.
Q - You had no means?
A - I beg your pardon: I was making money.
Q - And it was under such circumstances that you had the audacityto organize a company with a capital stock of three million offrancs, divided in shares of five hundred francs?
A - Having discovered an idea, I did not suppose that I was forbiddento work it up.
Q - What do you call an idea?
A - The idea of draining swamps, and making them productive.
Q - What swamps? Yours never had any existence, except in yourprospectus.
A - I expected to buy them as soon as my capital was paid in.
Q - And in the mean time you promised ten per cent to yourstockholders.
A-That's the least that draining operations ever pay.
Q - You have advertised?
A - Of course.
Q - To what extent?
A - To the extent of about sixty thousand francs.
Q - Where did you get the money?
A - I commenced with ten thousand francs, which a friend of mine hadlent me; then I used the funds as they came in.
9 - In other words, you made use of the money of your first dupes toattract others?
A - Many~people thought it was a good thing.
Q - Who? Those to whom you sent your prospectus with a plan of yourpretended swamps?
A - Excuse me. Others too.
Q - How much money did you ever receive?
A - About six hundred thousand francs, as the expert has stated.
Q - And you have spent the whole of the money?
A - Permit me? I have never applied to my personal wants any thingbeyond the salary which was allowed me by the By-laws.
Q - How is it, then, that, when you were arrested, there were onlytwelve hundred and fifty francs found in your safe, and that amounthad been sent you through the post-office that very morning? Whathas become of the rest?
A - The rest has been spent for the good of the company.
Q - Of course! You had a carriage?
A - It was allowed to me by Article 27 of the By-laws.
9 - For the good of the company too, I suppose.
A - Certainly. I was compelled to make a certain display. The headof an important company must endeavor to inspire confidence.
The Judge, with an Ironical Look - Was it also to inspire confidencethat you had a mistress, for whom you spent considerable sums ofmoney?
The Accused, in a Tone of Perfect Candor - Yes, sir.
After a pause of a few moments, the judge resumes,Q - Your offices were magnificent. They must have cost you a greatdeal to furnish.
A - On the contrary, sir, almost nothing. The furniture was allhired. You can examine the upholsterer.
The upholsterer is sent for, and in answer to the judge's questions,"What M. Lefurteux has stated," he says, "is true. My specialty isto hire office-fixtures for financial and other companies. I furnishevery thing, from the book-keepers' desks to the furniture for thepresident's private room: from the iron safe to the servant's livery.
In twenty-four hours, every thing is ready, and the subscribers cancome. As soon as a company is organized, like the one in question,the officers call on me, and, according to the magnitude of thecapital required, I furnish a more or less costly establishment. Ihave a good deal of experience, and I know just what's wanted.
When M. Lefurteux came to see me, I gauged his operation at a glance.
Three millions of capital, swamps in the Orne, shares of five hundredfrancs, small subscribers, anxious and noisy.
'Very well,' I said to him, 'it's a six-months' job. Don't go intouseless expenses. Take reps for your private office: that's goodenough.'The Judge, in a tone of Profound Surprise - You told him that?
The Upholsterer, in the Simple Accent of an Honest Man - Exactly asI am telling your Honor. He followed my advice; and I sent him redhot the furniture and fixtures which had been used by the RiverFishery Company, whose president had just been sent to prison forthree years.
When, after such revelations, renewed from week to week, withinstructive variations, purchasers may still be found for the sharesof the Tiffla Mines, the Bretoneche Lands, and the Forests ofFormanoid, is it to be wondered that the Mutual Credit Company foundnumerous subscribers?
It had been admirably started at that propitious hour of theDecember coup d'etat, when the first ideas of mutuality werebeginning to penetrate the financial world.
It had lacked neither capital nor powerful patronage at the start,and had been at once admitted to the honor of being quoted at thebourse.
Beginning business ostensibly as an accommodation bank formanufacturers and merchants, the Mutual Credit had had, for a numberof years, a well-determined specialty.
But gradually it had enlarged the circle of its operations, alteredits by-laws, changed its board of directors; and at the end theoriginal subscribers would have been not a little embarrassed totell what was the nature of its business, and from what sources itdrew its profits.
All they knew was, that it always paid respectable dividends; thattheir manager, M. de Thaller, was personally very rich; and thatthey were willing to trust him to steer clear of the code.
There were some, of course, who did not view things in quite sofavorable a light; who suggested that the dividends were suspiciouslylarge; that M. de Thaller spent too much money on his house, hiswife, his daughter, and his mistress.
One thing is certain, that the shares of the Mutual Credit Societywere much above par, and were quoted at 580 francs on that Saturday,when, after the closing of the bourse, the rumor had spread thatthe cashier. Vincent Favoral, had run off with twelve millions.
What a haul! thought, not without a feeling of envy, more thanone broker, who, for merely one-twelfth of that amount would havegayly crossed the frontier. It was almost an event in Paris.
Although such adventures are frequent enough, and not taken muchnotice of, in the present instance, the magnitude of the amountmore than made up for the vulgarity of the act.
Favoral was generally pronounced a very smart man; and some personsdeclared, that to take twelve millions could hardly be calledstealing.
The first question asked was,"Is Thaller in the operation? Was he in collusion with his cashier?""That's the whole question.""If he was, then the Mutual Credit is better off than ever:
otherwise, it is gone under.""Thaller is pretty smart.""That Favoral was perhaps more so still."This uncertainty kept up the price for about half an hour. But soonthe most disastrous news began to spread, brought, no one knewwhence or by whom; and there was an irresistible panic.
From 425, at which price it had maintained itself for a time, theMutual Credit fell suddenly to 300, then 200, and finally to 150francs.
Some friends of M. de Thaller, M. Costeclar, for instance, hadendeavored to keep up the market; but they had soon recognized thefutility of their efforts, and then they had bravely commenceddoing like the rest.
The next day was Sunday. From the early morning, it was reported,with the most circumstantial details, that the Baron de Thallerhad been arrested.
But in the evening this had been contradicted by people who hadgone to the races, and who had met there Mme. de Thaller and herdaughter, more brilliant than ever, very lively, and very talkative.
To the persons who went to speak to them,"My husband was unable to come," said the baroness. "He is busywith two of his clerks, looking over that poor Favoral's accounts.
It seems that they are in the most inconceivable confusion. Whowould ever have thought such a thing of a man who lived on bread andnuts? But he operated at the bourse; and he had organized, under afalse name, a sort of bank, in which he has very foolishly sunklarge sums of money.
And with a smile, as if all danger had been luckily averted,"Fortunately," she added, "the damage is not as great as has beenreported, and this time, again, we shall get off with a good fright."But the speeches of the baroness were hardly sufficient to quietthe anxiety of the people who felt in their coat-pockets theworthless certificates of Mutual Credit stock.
And the next day, Monday, as early as eight o'clock, they began toarrive in crowds to demand of M. de Thaller some sort of anexplanation.
They were there, at least a hundred, huddled together in thevestibule, on the stairs, and on the first landing, a prey to themost painful emotion and the most violent excitement; for they hadbeen refused admittance.
To all those who insisted upon going in, a tall servant in livery,standing before the door, replied invariably, "The office is notopen, M. de Thaller has not yet come."Whereupon they uttered such terrible threats and such loudimprecations, that the frightened concierge had run, and hid himselfat the very bottom of his lodge.
No one can imagine to what epileptic contortions the loss of moneycan drive an assemblage of men, who has not seen a meeting ofshareholders on the morrow of a great disaster, with their clinchedfists, their convulsed faces, their glaring eyes, and foaming lips.
They felt indignant at what had once been their delight. They laidthe blame of their ruin upon the splendor of the house, thesumptuousness of the stairs, the candelabras of the vestibule, thecarpets, the chairs every thing.
And it is our money too, they cried, "that has paid for all that!"Standing upon a bench, a little short man was exciting transportsof indignation by describing the magnificence of the Baron deThaller's residence, where he had once had some dealings.
He had counted five carriages in the carriage-house, fifteen horsesin the stables, and Heaven knows how many servants.
He had never been inside the apartments, but he had visited thekitchen; and he declared that he had been dazzled by the numberand brightness of the saucepans, ranged in order of size overthe furnace.
Gathered in a group under the vestibule, the most sensible deploredtheir rash confidence.
That's the way, concluded one, "with all these adventurous affairs.""That's a fact. There's nothing, after all, like government bonds.""Or a first mortgage on good property, with subrogation of the wife'srights."But what exasperated them, all was not to be admitted to the presenceof M. de Thaller, and to see that servant mounting guard beforethe door.
What impudence, they growled, "to leave us on the stairs! - we whoare the masters, after all.""Who knows where M. de Thaller may be?""He is hiding, of course.""No matter: I will see him," clamored a big fat man, with abrick-colored face, "if I shouldn't stir from here for a week.""You'll see nothing at all," giggled his neighbor. "Do you supposethey don't have back-stairs and private entrances in this infernalshop?""Ah! if I believed any thing of the kind," exclaimed the big manin a voice trembling with passion. "I'd soon break in some of thesedoors: it isn't so hard, after all."Already he was gazing at the servant with an alarming air, when anold gentleman with a discreet look, stepped up to him, and inquired,"Excuse me, sir: how many shares have you?""Three," answered the man with the brick-colored face.
The other sighed.
I have two hundred and fifty, he said. "That's why, being atleast as interested as yourself in not losing every thing, I beg ofyou to indulge in no violent proceedings."There was no need of further speaking.
The door which the servant was guarding flew open. A clerk appeared,and made sign that he wished to speak.
Gentlemen, he began, "M. de Thaller has just come; but he is justnow engaged with the examining judge."Shouts having drowned his voice, he withdrew precipitately.
If the law gets its finger in, murmured the discreet gentleman,"good-by!""That's a fact," said another. "But we will have the preciousadvantage of hearing that dear baron condemned to one year'simprisonment, and a fine of fifty francs. That's the regular rate.
He wouldn't get off so cheap, if he had stolen a loaf of bread froma baker.""Do you believe that story about the judge?" interrupted rudely thebig man.
They had to believe it, when they saw him appear, followed by acommissary of police and a porter, carrying on his back a load ofbooks and papers. They stood aside to let them pass; but there wasno time to make any comments, as another clerk appeared immediatelywho said,"M. de Thaller is at your command, gentlemen. Please walk in."There was then a terrible jamming and pushing to see who would getfirst into the directors' room, which stood wide open.
M. de Thaller was standing against the mantel-piece, neither palernor more excited than usual, but like a man who feels sure ofhimself and of his means of action. As soon as silence was restored,"First of all, gentlemen," he began, "I must tell you that the boardof directors is about to meet, and that a general meeting of thestockholders will be called."Not a murmur. As at the touch of a magician's wand, the dispositionsof the shareholders seemed to have changed.
I have nothing new to inform you of, he went on. "What happensis a misfortune, but not a disaster. The thing to do was to savethe company; and I had first thought of calling for funds.""Well," said two or three timid voices, "If it was absolutelynecessary -""But there is no need of it.""Ah, ah!""And I can manage to carry every thing through by adding to ourreserve fund my own personal fortune."This time the hurrahs and the bravos drowned the voice.
M. de Thaller received them like a man who deserves them, and,more slowly,"Honor commanded it," he continued. "I confess it, gentlemen, thewretch who has so basely deceived us had my entire confidence. Youwill understand my apparent blindness when you know with whatinfernal skill he managed."Loud imprecations burst on all sides against Vincent Favoral. Butthe president of the Mutual Credit proceeded,"For the present, all I have to ask of you is to keep cool, andcontinue to give me your confidence.""Yes, yes!
The panic of night before last was but a stock-gambling manoeuvre,organized by rival establishments, who were in hopes of taking ourclients away from us. They will be disappointed, gentlemen. Wewill triumphantly demonstrate our soundness; and we shall come outof this trial more powerful than ever.It was all over. M. de Thaller understood his business. Theyoffered him a vote of thanks. A smile was beaming upon the samefaces that were a moment before contracted with rage.
One stockholder alone did not seem to share the general enthusiasm:
he was no other than our old friend. M. Chapelain, the ex-lawyer.
That fellow, Thaller, is just capable of getting himself out ofthe scrape, he grumbled. "I must tell Maxence."
We have every species of courage in France, and to a superiordegree, except that of braving public opinion. Few men would havedared, like Marius de Tregars, to offer their name to the daughterof a wretch charged with embezzlement and forgery, and that at thevery moment when the scandal of the crime was at its height. But,when Marius judged a thing good and just, he did it withouttroubling himself in the least about what others would think. Andso his mere presence in the Rue. St. Gilles had brought back hopeto its inmates. Of his designs he had said but a word, - "I havethe means of helping you: I mean, by marrying Gilberte, to acquirethe right of doing so."But that word had been enough.. Mme. Favoral and Maxence hadunderstood that the man who spoke thus was one of those cool andresolute men whom nothing disconcerts or discourages, and who knowshow to make the best of the most perilous situations.
And, when he had retired with the Count de Villegre,"I don't know what he will do," said Mlle. Gilberte to her motherand her brother: "but he will certainly do something; and, if itis humanly possible to succeed, he will succeed."And how proudly she spoke thus! The assistance of Marius was thejustification of her conduct. She trembled with joy at the thoughtthat it would, perhaps, be to the man whom she had alone and boldlyselected, that her family would owe their salvation. Shaking hishead, and making allusion to events of which he kept the secret,"I really believe," approved Maxence, "that, to reach the enemiesof our father, M. de Tregars possesses some powerful means; and whatthey are we will doubtless soon know, since I have an appointmentwith him for to-morrow morning."It came at last, that morrow, which he had awaited with an impatiencethat neither his mother nor his sister could suspect. And towardshalf-past nine he was ready to go out, when M. Chapelain came in.
Still irritated by the scenes he had just witnessed at the MutualCredit office, the old lawyer had a most lugubrious countenance.
I bring bad news, he began. "I have just seen the Baron deThaller."He had said so much the day before about having nothing more to dowith it, that. Maxence could not repress a gesture of surprise.
Oh! it isn't alone that I saw him, added M. Chapelain, "buttogether with at least a hundred stockholders of the Mutual Credit.""They are going to do something, then?""No: they only came near doing something. You should have seen themthis morning! They were furious; they threatened to break everything; they wanted M. de Thaller's blood. It was terrible. But M.
de Thaller condescended to receive them; and they became at once asmeek as lambs. It is perfectly simple. What do you supposestockholders can do, no matter how exasperated they may be, whentheir manager tells them?
'Well, yes, it's a fact you have been robbed, and your money is ingreat jeopardy; but if you make any fuss, if you complain thus, allis sure to be lost.' Of course, the stockholders keep quiet. It isa well-known fact that a business which has to be liquidated throughthe courts is gone; and swindled stockholders fear the law almost asmuch as the swindling manager. A single fact will make the situationclearer to you. Less than an hour ago, M. de Thaller's stockholders,offered him money to make up the loss.And, after a moment of silence,"But this is not all. Justice has interfered; and M. de Thallerspent the morning with an examining-magistrate.""Well?""Well, I have enough experience to affirm that you must not relyany more upon justice than upon the stockholders. Unless there areproofs so evident that they are not likely to exist, M. de Thallerwill not be disturbed.""Oh!""Why? Because, my dear, in all those big financial operations,justice, as much as possible, remains blind. Not through corruptionor any guilty connivance, but through considerations of publicinterest. If the manager was prosecuted he would be condemned to afew years' imprisonment; but his stockholders would at the same timebe condemned to lose what they have left; so that the victims wouldbe more severely punished than the swindler. And so, powerless,justice does not interfere. And that's what accounts for theimpudence and impunity of all these high-flown rascals who go aboutwith their heads high, their pockets filled with other people's money,and half a dozen decorations at their button-hole.""And what then?" asked Maxence.
Then it is evident that your father is lost. Whether or not hedid have accomplices, he will be alone sacrificed. A scapegoat isneeded to be slaughtered on the altar of credit. Well, they willgive that much satisfaction to the swindled stockholders. Thetwelve millions will be lost; but the shares of the Mutual Creditwill go up, and public morality will be safe.Somewhat moved by the old lawyer's tone,"What do you advise me to do, then?" inquired Maxence.
The very reverse of what, on the first impulse, I advised you todo. That's why I have come. I told you yesterday, 'Make a row,act, scream. It is impossible that your father be alone guilty;attack M. de Thaller.' To-day, after mature deliberation, I say,'Keep quiet, hide yourself, let the scandal drop.'A bitter smile contracted Maxence's lips.
It is not very brave advice you are giving me there, he said.
"It is a friend's advice, - the advice of a man who knows lifebetter than yourself. Poor young man, you are not aware of theperil of certain struggles. All knaves are in league and sustaineach other. To attack one is to attack them all. You have noidea of the occult influences of which a man can dispose whohandles millions, and who, in exchange for a favor, has always abonus to offer, or a good operation to propose. If at least Icould see any chance of success! But you have not one. You nevercan reach M. de Thaller, henceforth backed by his stockholders. You will only succeed in making an enemy whose hostility will weighupon your whole life.""What does it matter?M. Chapelain shrugged his shoulders.
"If you were alone, he went on, "I would say as you do, 'What doesit matter?' But you are no longer alone: you have your mother andsister to take care of. You must think of food before thinking ofvengeance. How much a month do you earn? Two hundred francs! Itis not much for three persons. I would never suggest that youshould solicit M. de Thaller's protection; but it would be well,perhaps, to let him know that he has nothing to fear from you. Whyshouldn't you do so when you take his fifteen thousand francs backto him? If, as every thing indicates, he has been your father'saccomplice, he will certainly be touched by the distress of yourfamily, and, if he has any heart left, he will manage to make youfind, without appearing to have any thing to do with it, a situationbetter suited to your wants. I know that such a, step must be verypainful; but I repeat it, my dear child, you can no longer think ofyourself alone; and what one would not do for himself, one does fora mother and a sister."Maxence said nothing. Not that he was in any way affected by theworthy old lawyer's speech; but he was asking himself whether ornot he should confide to him the events which in the past twenty-fourhours had so suddenly modified the situation. He did not feelauthorized to do so.
Marius de Tregars had not bound him to secrecy; but an indiscretionmight have fatal consequences. And, after a moment of thought,"I am obliged to you, sir," he replied evasively, "for the interestyou have manifested in our welfare; and we shall always greatlyprize your advice. But for the present you must allow me to leaveyou with my mother and sister. I have an appointment with - afriend."And, without waiting for an answer, he slipped M. de Thaller'sfifteen thousand francs in his pocket, and hurried out. It was notto M. de Tregars that he went first, however, but to the Hotel desFolies.
Mlle. Lucienne has just come home with a big bundle, said Mme.
Fortin to Maxence, with her pleasantest smile, as soon as she hadseen him emerge from the shades of the corridor.
For the past twenty-four hours, the worthy hostess had been watchingfor her guest, in the hopes of obtaining some information which shemight communicate to the neighbors. Without even condescending toanswer, a piece of rudeness at which she felt much hurt, he crossedthe narrow court of the hotel at a bound, and started up stairs.
Mlle. Lucienne's room was open. He walked in, and, still out ofbreath from his rapid ascension,"I am glad to find you in," he exclaimed. The young girl was busy,arranging upon her bed a dress of very light colored silk, trimmedwith ruches and lace, an overdress to match, and a bonnet ofwonderful shape, loaded with the most brilliant feathers and flowers.
You see what brings me here, she replied. "I came home to dress.
At two o'clock the carriage is coming to take me to the bois, whereI am to exhibit this costume, certainly the most ridiculous that VanKlopen has yet made me wear."A smile flitted upon Maxence's lips.
Who knows, said he, "if this is not the last time you will haveto perform this odious task? Ah, my friend! what events have takenplace since I last saw you!""Fortunate ones?""You will judge for yourself."He closed the door carefully, and, returning to Mlle. Lucienne,"Do you know the Marquis de Tregars?" he asked.
No more than you do. It was yesterday, at the commissary of police,that I first heard his name."Well, before a month, M. de Tregars will be Mlle. Gilberte Favoral'shusband."Is it possible? exclaimed Mlle. Lucienne with a look of extremesurprise.
But, instead of answering,"You told me," resumed Maxence, "that once, in a day of supremedistress, you had applied to Mme. de Thaller for assistance, whereasyou were actually entitled to an indemnity for having been run overand seriously hurt by her carriage.""That is true.
"Whilst you were in the vestibule, waiting for an answer to yourletter, which a servant had taken up stairs, M. de Thaller came in;and, when he saw you, he could not repress a gesture of surprise,almost of terror. That is true too.""This behavior of M. de Thaller always remained an enigma to you.An inexplicable one.""""Well, I think that I can explain it to you now.""""You?""Lowering his voice; for he knew that at the Hotel des Folies therewas always to fear some indiscreet ear.
"Yes, I, he answered; "and for the reason that yesterday, when M.
de Tregars appeared in my mother's parlor, I could not suppress anexclamation of surprise, for the reason, Lucienne, that, betweenMarius de Tregars and yourself, there is a resemblance with which itis impossible not to be struck."Mlle. Lucienne had become very pale.
What do you suppose, then? she asked.
I believe, my friend, that we are very near penetrating at once themystery of your birth and the secret of the hatred that has pursuedyou since the day when you first set your foot in M. de Thaller'shouse.Admirably self-possessed as Mlle. Lucienne usually was, thequivering of her lips betrayed at this moment the intensity of heremotion.
After more than a minute of profound meditaton,"The commissary of police," she said, "has never told me his hopes,except in vague terms. He has told me enough, however, to make methink that he has already had suspicions similar to yours.""Of course! Would he otherwise have questioned me on the subjectof M. de Tregars?"Mlle. Lucienne shook her head.
And yet, she said, "even after your explanation, it is in vainthat I seek why and how I can so far disturb M. de Thaller's securitythat he wishes to do away with me."Maxence made a gesture of superb indifference. "I confess," hesaid, "that I don't see it either. But what matters it? Withoutbeing able to explain why, I feel that the Baron de Thaller is thecommon enemy, yours, mine, my father's, and M. de Tregars'. Andsomething tells me, that, with M. de Tregars' help, we shall triumph.
You would share my confidence, Lucienne, if you knew him. There isa man! and my sister has made no vulgar choice. If he has told mymother that he has the means of serving her, it is because hecertainly has."He stopped, and, after a moment of silence, "Perhaps," he went on"the commissary of police might readily understand what I only dimlysuspect; but, until further orders, we are forbidden to have recourseto him. it is not my own secret that I have just told you; and, ifI have confided it to you, it is because I feel that it is a greatpiece of good fortune for us; and there is no joy for me, that youdo not share."Mlle. Lucienne wanted to ask many more particulars. But, looking athis watch,"Half-past ten!" he exclaimed, "and M. de Tregars waiting for me."And he started off, repeating once more to the young girl,"I will see you to-night: until then, good hope and good courage.
In the court, two ill-looking men were talking with the Fortins.
But it happened often to the Fortins to talk with ill-looking men:
so he took no notice of them, ran out to the Boulevard, and jumpinginto a cab,"Rue Lafitte 70," he cried to the driver, "I pay the trip, - threefrancs."When Marius de Tregars had finally determined to compel the boldrascals who had swindled his father to disgorge, he had taken inthe Rue Lafitte a small, plainly-furnished apartment on the entresol,a fit dwelling for the man of action, the tent in which he takesshelter on the eve of battle; and he had to wait upon him an oldfamily servant, whom he had found out of place, and who had for himthat unquestioning and obstinate devotion peculiar to Breton servants.
It was this excellent man who came at the first stroke of the bellto open the door. And, as soon as Maxence had told him his name,"Ah!" he exclaimed, "my master has been expecting you with aterrible impatience."It was so true, that M. de Tregars himself appeared at the samemoment, and, leading Maxence into the little room which he usedas a study,"Do you know," he said whilst shaking him cordially by the hand,"that you are almost an hour behind time?"Maxence had, among others the detestable fault, sure indication ofa weak nature, of being never willing to be in the wrong, and ofhaving always an excuse ready. On this occasion, the excuse wastoo tempting to allow it to escape; and quick he began telling howhe had been detained by M. Chapelain, and how he had heard from theold lawyer what had taken place at the Mutual Credit office.
I know the scene already, said M. de Tregars. And, fixing uponMaxence a look of friendly raillery,"Only," he added, "I attributed your want of punctuality to anotherreason, a very pretty one this time, a brunette."A purple cloud spread over Maxence's cheeks.
What! he stammered, "you know?""I thought you must have been in haste to go and tell a person ofyour acquaintance why, when you saw me yesterday, you uttered anexclamation of surprise."This time Maxence lost all countenance.
What, he said, "you know too?"M. de Tregars smiled.
I know a great many things, my dear M. Maxence, he replied; "andyet, as I do not wish to be suspected of witchcraft, I will tellyou where all my science comes from. At the time when your housewas closed to me, after seeking for a long time some means ofhearing from your sister, I discovered at last that she had forher music-teacher an old Italian, the Signor Gismondi Pulei. Iapplied to him for lessons, and became his pupil. But, in thebeginning, he kept looking at me with singular persistence. Iinquired the reason; and he told me that he had once had for aneighbor, at the Batignolles, a young working-girl, who resembledme prodigiously. I paid no attention to this circumstance, andhad, in fact, completely forgotten it; when, quite lately, Gismondotold me that he had just seen his former neighbor again, and, what'smore, arm in arm with you, and that you both entered together theHotel des Folies. As he insisted again upon that famous resemblance,I determined to see for myself. I watched, and I stated, de visa,that my old Italian was not quite wrong, and that I had, perhaps,just found the weapon I was looking for."His eyes staring, and his mouth gaping, Maxence looked like a manfallen from the clouds.
Ah, you did watch! he said.
M. de Tregars snapped his fingers with a gesture of indifference.
It is certain, he replied, "that, for a month past, I have beendoing a singular business. But it is not by remaining on my chair,preaching against the corruption of the age, that I can attain myobject. The end justifies the means. Honest men are very silly,I think, to allow the rascals to get the better of them under thesentimental pretext that they cannot condescend to make use of theirweapons."But an honorable scruple was tormenting Maxence.
And you think yourself well-informed, sir? he inquired. "Youknow Lucienne?""Enough to know that she is not what she seems to be, and whatalmost any other would have been in her place; enough to be certain,that, if she shows herself two or three times a week riding aroundthe lake, it is not for her pleasure; enough, also, to be persuaded,that, despite appearances, she is not your mistress, and that, farfrom having disturbed your life, and compromised your prospects,she set you back into the right road, at the moment, perhaps, whenyou were about to branch off into the wrong path."Marius de Tregars was assuming fantastic proportions in the mind ofMaxence.
How did you manage, he stammered, "thus to find out the truth?""With time and money, every thing is possible.""But you must have had grave reasons to take so much trouble aboutLucienne.""Very grave ones, indeed.""You know that she was basely forsaken when quite a child?""Perfectly.""And that she was brought up through charity ""By some poor gardeners at Louveciennes: yes, I know all that."Maxence was trembling with joy. It seemed to him that his mostdazzling hopes were about to be realized. Seizing the hands ofMarius de Tregars,"Ah, you know Lucienne's family!" he exclaimed. But M. de Tregarsshook his head.
I have suspicions, he answered; "but, up to this time, I havesuspicions only, I assure you.""But that family does exist; since they have already, at threedifferent times, attempted to get rid of the poor girl.""I think as you do; but we must have proofs: and we shall find some.
You may rest assured of that."Here he was interrupted by the noise of the opening door.
The old servant came in, and advancing to the centre of the roomwith a mysterious look,"Madame Ia Baronne de Thaller," he said in a low voice.
Marius de Tregars started violently.
Where? he asked.
She is down stairs in her carriage, replied the servant. "Herfootman is here, asking whether monsieur is at home, and whethershe can come up.""Can she possibly have heard any thing?" murmured M. de Tregarswith a deep frown. And, after a moment of reflection,"So much the more reason to see her," he added quickly. "Let hercome. Request her to do me the honor of coming up stairs."This last incident completely upset all Maxence's ideas. He nolonger knew what to imagine.
Quick, said M. de Tregars to him: "quick, disappear; and, whateveryou may hear, not a word!"And he pushed him into his bedroom, which was divided from the studyby a mere tapestry curtain. It was time; for already in the nextroom could be heard a great rustling of silk and starched petticoats.
Mme. de Thaller appeared.
She was still the same coarsely beautiful woman, who, sixteen yearsbefore, had sat at Mme. Favoral's table. Time had passed withoutscarcely touching her with the tip of his wing. Her flesh hadretained its dazzling whiteness; her hair, of a bluish black, itsmarvelous opulence; her lips, their carmine hue; her eyes, theirlustre. Her figure only had become heavier, her features lessdelicate; and her neck and throat had lost their undulations, andthe purity of their outlines.
But neither the years, nor the millions, nor the intimacy of themost fashionable women, had been able to give her those qualitieswhich cannot be acquired, - grace, distinction, and taste.
If there was a woman accustomed to dress, it was she: a splendiddry-goods store could have been set up with the silks and thevelvets, the satins and cashmeres, the muslins, the laces, and allthe known tissues, that had passed over her shoulders.
Her elegance was quoted and copied. And yet there was about heralways and under all circumstances, an indescribable flavor of theparvenue. Her gestures had remained trivial; her voice, common andvulgar.
Throwing herself into an arm-chair, and bursting into a loud laugh,"Confess, my dear marquis," she said, "that you are terriblyastonished to see me thus drop upon you, without warning, at eleveno'clock in the morning.""I feel, above all, terribly flattered," replied M. de Tregars,smiling.
With a rapid glance she was surveying the little study, the modestfurniture, the papers piled on the desk, as if she had hoped thatthe dwelling would reveal to her something of the master's ideasand projects.
I was just coming from Van Klopen's, she resumed; "and passingbefore your house, I took a fancy to come in and stir you up; andhere I am."M. de Tregars was too much a man of the world, and of the best world,to allow his features to betray the secret of his impressions; andyet, to any one who had known him well, a certain contraction of theeyelids would have revealed a serious annoyance and an intenseanxiety.
How is the baron? he inquired.
As sound as an oak, answered Mme. de Thaller, "notwithstanding allthe cares and the troubles, which you can well imagine. By the way,you know what has happened to us?""I read in the papers that the cashier of the Mutual Credit haddisappeared.""And it is but too true. That wretch Favoral has gone off with anenormous amount of money.""Twelve millions, I heard.""Something like it. A man who had the reputation of a saint too; apuritan. Trust people's faces after that! I never liked him, Iconfess. But M. de Thaller had a perfect fancy for him; and, whenhe had spoken of his Favoral, there was nothing more to say. Anyway, he has cleared out, leaving his family without means. A veryinteresting family, it seems, too, - a wife who is goodness itself,and a charming daughter: at least, so says Costeclar, who, is verymuch in love with her."M. de Tregars' countenance remained perfectly indifferent, likethat of a man who is hearing about persons and things in which hedoes not take the slightest interest.
Mme. de Thaller noticed this.
But it isn't to tell you all this," she went on, "that I came up.
It is an interested motive brought me. We have, some of my friendsand myse1f, organized a lottery - a work of charity, my dear marquis,and quite patriotic - for the benefit of the Alsatians, I have lots oftickets to dispose of; and I've thought of you to help me out."More smiling than ever,"I am at your orders, madame," answered Marius, "but, in mercy,spare me."She took out some tickets from a small shell pocket-book.
Twenty, at ten francs, she said. "It isn't too much, is it?"It is a great deal for my modest resources."She pocketed the ten napoleons which he handed her, and, in a toneof ironical compassion,"Are you so very poor, then?" she asked.
Why, I am neither banker nor broker, you know.She had risen, and was smoothing the folds of her dress.
Well, my dear marquis, she resumed, "it is certainly not me whowill pity you. When a man of your age, and with your name, remainspoor, it is his own fault. Are there no rich heiresses?""I confess that I haven't tried to find one yet." She looked athim straight in the eyes, and then suddenly bursting out laughing,"Look around you," she said, "and I am sure you'll not be longdiscovering a beautiful young girl, very blonde, who would bedelighted to become Marquise de Tregars, and who would bring inher apron a dowry of twelve or fifteen hundred thousand francs ingood securities, - securities which the Favorals can't carry off.
Think well, and then come to see us. You know that M. de Thalleris very fond of you; and, after all the trouble we have been having,you owe us a visit."Whereupon she went out, M. de Tregars, going down to escort her toher carriage. But as he came up,"Attention!" he cried to Maxence; "for it's very evident that theThallers have wind of something."
It was a revelation, that visit of Mme. de Thaller's; and there wasno need of very much perspicacity to guess her anxiety beneath herbursts of laughter, and to understand that it was a bargain she hadcome to propose. It was evident, therefore, that Marius de Tregarsheld within his hands the principal threads of that complicatedintrigue which had just culminated in that robbery of twelvemillions. But would he be able to make use of them? What were hisdesigns, and his means of action? That is what Maxence could not inany way conjecture.
He had no time to ask questions.
Come, said M. Tregars, whose agitation was manifest, - " come, letus breakfast: we have not a moment to lose."And, whilst his servant was bringing in his modest meal,"I am expecting M. d'Escajoul," he said. "Show him in as soon ashe comes."Retired as he had lived from the financial world, Maxence had yetheard the name of Octave d'Escajoul.
Who has not seen him, happy and smiling, his eye bright, and his lipruddy, notwithstanding his fifty years, walking on the sunny sideof the Boulevard, with his royal blue jacket and his eternal whitevest? He is passionately fond of everything that tends to make lifepleasant and easy; dines at Bignon's, or the Caf e Anglais; playsbaccarat at the dub with extraordinary luck; has the most comfortableapartment and the most elegant coupe in all Paris. With all this,he is pleased to declare that he is the happiest of men, and iscertainly one of the most popular; for he cannot walk three blockson the Boulevard without lifting his hat at least fifty times, andshaking hands twice as often.
And when any one asks, "What does he do?" the invariable answer is,"Why he operates."To explain what sort of operations, would not be, perhaps, veryeasy. In the world of rogues, there are some rogues more formidableand more skillful than the rest, who always manage to escape the handof the law. They are not such fools as to operate in person, - notthey! They content themselves with watching their friends andcomrades. If a good haul is made, at once they appear and claimtheir share. And, as they always threaten to inform, there is nohelp for it but to let them pocket the clearest of the profit.
Well, in a more elevated sphere, in the world of speculation, it isprecisely that lucrative and honorable industry which M. d'Escajoulcarries on. Thoroughly master of his ground, possessing a superiorscent and an imperturbable patience, always awake, and continuallyon the watch, he never operates unless he is sure to win.
And the day when the manager of some company has violated hischarter or stretched the law a little too far, he may be sure tosee M. d'Escajoul appear, and ask for some little - advantages,and proffer, in exchange, the most thorough discretion, and evenhis kind offices.
Two or three of his friends have heard him say,"Who would dare to blame me? It's very moral, what I am doing."Such is the man who came in, smiling, just as Maxence and Marius deTregars had sat down at the table. M. de Tregars rose to receive him.
You will breakfast with us? he said.
Thank you, answered M. d'Escajoul. "I breakfasted precisely ateleven, as usual. Punctuality is a politeness which a man owes tohis stomach. But I will accept with pleasure a drop of that oldCognac which you offered me the other evening."He took a seat; and the valet brought him a glass, which he set onthe edge of the table. Then,"I have just seen our man," he said.
Maxence understood that he was referring to M. de Thaller.
Well? inquired M. de Tregars.
Impossible to get any thing out of him. I turned him over andover, every way. Nothing!"Indeed!"It's so; and you know if I understand the business. But what canyou say to a man who answers you all the time, 'The matter is inthe hands of the law; experts have been named; I have nothing tofear from the most minute investigations'?By the look which Marius de Tregars kept riveted upon M. d'Escajoul,it was easy to see that his confidence in him was not without limits.
He felt it, and, with an air of injured innocence,"Do you suspect me, by chance," he said, "to have allowed myself tobe hoodwinked by Thaller?"And as M. de Tregars said nothing, which was the most eloquent ofanswers,"Upon my word," he insisted, "you are wrong to doubt me. Was ityou who came after me? No. It was I, who, hearing through Marcoletthe history of your fortune, came to tell you, 'Do you want to knowa way of swamping Thaller?' And the reasons I had to wish thatThaller might be swamped: I have them still. He trifled with me,he 'sold' me, and he must suffer for it; for, if it came to be knownthat I could be taken in with impunity, it would be all over with mycredit."After a moment of silence,"Do you believe, then," asked M. de Tregars, "that M. de Thaller isinnocent?""Perhaps.""That would be curious.""Or else his measures are so well taken that he has absolutelynothing to fear. If Favoral takes everything upon himself, whatcan they say to the other? If they have acted in collusion, thething has been prepared for a long time; and, before commencingto fish, they must have troubled the water so well, that justicewill be unable to see anything in it.""And you see no one who could help us?""Favoral -"To Maxence's great surprise, M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders.
That one is gone, he said; "and, were he at hand, it is quiteevident that if he was in collusion with M. de Thaller, he wouldnot speak.""Of course.""That being the case, what can we do?""Wait."M. de Tregars made a gesture of discouragement.
I might as well give up the fight, then, he said, "and try tocompromise.""Why so? We don't know what may happen. Keep quiet, be patient;I am here, and I am looking out for squalls."He got up and prepared to leave.
You have more experience than I have, said M. de Tregars; "and,since that's your opinion:
M. d'Escajoul had resumed all his good humor.
Very well, then, it's understood, he said, pressing M. de Tregars'
hand. "I am watching for both of us; and if I see a chance, I comeat once, and you act."But the outer door had hardly closed, when suddenly the countenanceof Marius de Tregars changed. Shaking the hand which M. d'Escajoulhad just touched, - "Pouah! " he said with a look of thoroughdisgust, - "pouch!"And noticing Maxence's look of utter surprise,"Don't you understand," he said, "that this old rascal has been sentto me by Thaller to feel my intentions, and mislead me by falseinformation? I had scented him, fortunately; and, if either one ofus is dupe of the other, I have every reason to believe that it willnot be me."They had finished their breakfast. M. de Tregars called his servant.
Have you been for a carriage? he asked.
"It is at the door, sir. Well, then, come along.""Maxence had the good sense not to over-estimate himself. Perfectlyconvinced that he could accomplish nothing alone, he was firmlyresolved to trust blindly to Marius de Tregars.
"He followed him, therefore; and it was only after the carriage hadstarted, that he ventured to ask,"Where are we going?""Didn't you hear me," replied M. de Tregars, "order the driver totake us to the court-house?""I beg your pardon; but what I wish to know is, what we are goingto do there?""You are going, my dear friend, to ask an audience of the judge whohas your father's case in charge, and deposit into his hands thefifteen thousand francs you have in your pocket.""What! You wish me to -""I think it better to place that money into the hands of justice,which will appreciate the step, than into those of M. de Thaller,who would not breathe a word about it. We are in a position wherenothing should be neglected; and that money may prove an indication."But they had arrived. M. de Tregars guided Maxence through thelabyrinth of corridors of the building, until he came to a longgallery, at the entrance of which an usher was seated reading anewspaper.
M. Barban d'Avranchel? inquired M. de Tregars.
He is in his office. replied the usher.
Please ask him if he would receive an important deposition in theFavoral case.The usher rose somewhat reluctantly, and, while he was gone,"You will go in alone," said M. de Tregars to Maxence. "I shallnot appear; and it is important that my name should not even bepronounced. But, above all, try and remember even the mostinsignificant words of the judge; for, upon what he tells you, Ishall regulate my conduct."The usher returned.
M. d'Avranchel will receive you, he said. And, leading Maxenceto the extremity of the gallery, he opened a small door, andpushed him in, saying at the same time,That is it, sir: walk in."It was a small room, with a low ceiling, and poorly furnished. Thefaded curtains and threadbare carpet showed plainly that more thanone judge had occupied it, and that legions of accused criminalshad passed through it. In front of a table, two men - one old, thejudge; the other young, the clerk - were signing and classifyingpapers. These papers related to the Favoral case, and were allindorsed in large letters: Mutual Credit Company.
As soon as Maxence appeared, the judge rose, and, after measuringhim with a clear and cold look:
Who are you? he interrogated.
In a somewhat husky voice, Maxence stated his name and surname.
Ah! you are Vincent Favoral's son, interrupted the judge. "Andit was you who helped him escape through the window? I was goingto send you a summons this very day; but, since you are here, somuch the better. You have something important to communicate, Ihave been told."Very few people, even among the most strictly honest, can overcomea certain unpleasant feeling when, having crossed the threshold ofthe palace of justice, they find themselves in presence of a judge.
More than almost any one else, Maxence was likely to be accessibleto that vague and inexplicable feeling; and it was with an effortthat he answered,"On Saturday evening, the Baron de Thaller called at our house afew minutes before the commissary. After loading my father withreproaches, he invited him to leave the country; and, in order tofacilitate his flight, he handed him these fifteen thousand francs.
My father declined to accept them; and, at the moment of parting,he recommended to me particularly to return them to M. de Thaller.
I thought it best to return them to you, sir.""Why?""Because I wished the fact known to you of the money having beenoffered and refused."M. Barban d'Avranchel was quietly stroking his whiskers, once of abright red, but now almost entirely white.
Is this an insinuation against the manager of the Mutual Credit?he asked.
Maxence looked straight at him; and, in a tone which affirmedprecisely the reverse,"I accuse no one,'," he said.
I must tell you,' resumed the judge, "that M. de Thaller hashimself informed me of this circumstance. When he called at yourhouse, he was ignorant, as yet, of the extent of the embezzlements,and was in hopes of being able to hush up the affair. That's whyhe wished his cashier to start for Belgium. This system ofhelping criminals to escape the just punishment of their crimes isto be bitterly deplored; but it is quite the habit of your financialmagnates, who prefer sending some poor devil of am employe to hanghimself abroad than run the risk of compromising their credit byconfessing that they have been robbed."Maxence might have had a great deal to say; but M. de Tregars hadrecommenced him the most extreme reserve. He remained silent.
On the other hand, resumed the judge, "the refusal to accept themoney so generously offered does not speak in favor of VincentFavoral. He was well aware, when he left, that it would require agreat deal of money to reach the frontier, escape pursuit, and hidehimself abroad; and, if he refused the fifteen thousand francs, itmust have been because he was well provided for already."Tears of shame and rage started from Maxence's eyes "I am certain,sir," he exclaimed, "that my father went off without a sou.""What has become of the millions, then?" he asked coldly.
Maxence hesitated. Why not mention his suspicions? He dared not.
My father speculated at the bourse, he stammered. "And he led ascandalous conduct, keeping up, away from home, a style of livingwhich must have absorbed immense sums.""We knew nothing of it, sir; and our first suspicions were arousedby what the commissary of police told us."The judge insisted no more; and in a tone which indicated that hisquestion was a mere matter of form, and he attached but littleimportance to the answer,"You have no news from your father?" he asked.
None whatever."And you have no idea where he has gone?"None in the least.M. d'Avranchel had already resumed his seat at the table, and wasagain busy with his papers.
You may retire, he said. You will be notified if I need you."Maxence felt much discouraged when he joined M. de Tregars at theentrance of the gallery.
The judge is convinced of M. de Thaller's entire innocence, hesaid.
But as soon as he had narrated, with a fidelity that did honor tohis memory, all that had just occurred,"Nothing is lost yet," declared M. de Tregars. And, taking fromhis pocket the bill for two trunks, which had been found in M.
Favoral's portfolio,"There," he said, "we shall know our fate."
M. de Tregars and Maxence were in luck. They had a good driver anda fair horse; and in twenty minutes they were at the trunk store.
As soon as the cab stopped,"Well," exclaimed M. de Tregars, "I suppose it has to be done."And, with the look of a man who has made up his mind to do somethingwhich is extremely repugnant to him, he jumped out, and, followedby Maxence, entered the shop.
"It was a modest establishment; and the people who kept it, husbandand wife, seeing two customers coming in, rushed to meet them, withthat welcoming smile which blossoms upon the lips of every Parisianshopkeeper. What will you have, gentlemen?""And, with wonderful volubility, they went on enumerating everyarticle which they had for sale in their shop, - from the""indispensable-necessary,"" containing seventy-seven pieces of solidsilver, and costing four thousand francs, down to the humblestcarpet-bag at thirty-nine cents.
"But Marius de Tregars interrupted them as soon as he could get anopportunity, and, showing them their bill,"It was here, wasn't it," he inquired, "that the two trunks werebought which are charged in this bill?""Yes, sir," answered simultaneously both husband and wife.
When were they delivered?"Our porter went to deliver them, less than two hours after theywere bought."Where?By this time the shopkeepers were beginning to exchange uneasy looks.
Why do you ask? inquired the woman in a tone which indicated thatshe had the settled intention not to answer, unless for good andvalid reason.
To obtain the simplest information is not always as easy as mightbe supposed. The suspicion of the Parisian tradesman is easilyaroused; and, as his head is stuffed with stories of spies androbbers, as soon as he is questioned he becomes as dumb as an oyster.
But M. de Tregars had foreseen the difficulty:
I beg you to believe, madame, he went on, "that my questions arenot dictated by an idle curiosity. Here are the facts. A relativeof ours, a man of a certain age, of whom we are very fond, and whosehead is a little weak, left his home some forty-eight hours since.
We are looking for him, and we are in hopes, if we find these trunks,to find him at the same time."With furtive glances, the husband and wife were tacitly consultingeach other.
The fact is, they said, "we wouldn't like, under any consideration,to commit an indiscretion which might result to the prejudice of acustomer.""Fear nothing," said M. de Tregars with a reassuring gesture. "Ifwe have not had recourse to the police, it's because, you know, itisn't pleasant to have the police interfere in one's affairs. Ifyou have any objections to answer me, however, I must, of course,apply to the commissary."The argument proved decisive.
If that's the case, replied the woman, "I am ready to tell all Iknow.""Well, then, madame, what do you know?""These two trunks were bought on Friday afternoon last, by a man ofa certain age, tall, very thin, with a stern countenance, andwearing a long frock coat.""No more doubt," murmured Maxence. "It was he."And now," the woman went on, " that you have just told me that yourrelative was a little weak in the head, I remember that thisgentleman had a strange sort of way about him, and that he keptwalking about the store as if he had fleas on his legs. And awfulparticular he was too! Nothing was handsome enough and strongenough for him; and he was anxious about the safety-locks, as hehad, he said, many objects of value, papers, and securities, to putaway.
And where did he tell you to send the two trunks?"Rue du Cirque, to Mme. - wait a minute, I have the name at the endof my tongue."You must have it on your books, too, remarked M. de Tregars.
The husband was already looking over his blotter.
April 26, 1872, he said. "26, here it is: 'Two leather trunks,patent safety-locks: Mme. Zelie Cadelle, 49 Rue du Cirque.'"Without too much affectation, M. de Tregars had drawn near to theshopkeeper, and was looking over his shoulder.
What is that, he asked, "written there, below the address?""That, sir, is the direction left by the customer 'Mark on each endof the trunks, in large letters, "Rio de Janeiro."'"Maxence could not suppress an exclamation. "Oh!"But the tradesman mistook him; and, seizing this magnificentopportunity to display his knowledge,"Rio de Janeiro is the capital of Brazil," he said in a tone ofimportance. "And your relative evidently intended to go there; and,if he has not changed his mind, I doubt whether you can overtakehim; for the Brazilian steamer was to have sailed yesterday fromHavre."Whatever may have been his intentions, M. de Tregars remainedperfectly calm.
If that's the case, he said to the shopkeepers, "I think I hadbetter give up the chase. I am much obliged to you, however, foryour information."But, once out again,"Do you really believe," inquired Maxence, "that my father hasleft France?"M.de Tregars shook his head.
I will give you my opinion, he uttered, "after I have investigatedmatters in the Rue du Cirque."They drove there in a few minutes; and, the cab having stopped atthe entrance of the street, they walked on foot in front of No. 49.
It was a small cottage, only one story in height, built between asanded court-yard and a garden, whose tall trees showed above theroof. At the windows could be seen curtains of light-colored silk,- a sure indication of the presence of a young and pretty woman.
For a few minutes Marius de Tregars remained in observation; but,as nothing stirred,"We must find out something, somehow," he exclaimed impatiently.
And noticing a large grocery store bearing No. 62, he directed hissteps towards it, still accompanied by Maxence.
It was the hour of the day when customers are rare. Standing inthe centre of the shop, the grocer, a big fat man with an air ofimportance, was overseeing his men, who were busy putting thingsin order.
M. de Tregars took him aside, and with an accent of mystery,"I am," he said, "a clerk with M. Drayton, the jeweler in the Ruede la Paix; and I come to ask you one of those little favors whichtradespeople owe to each other."A frown appeared on the fat man's countenance. He thought, perhaps,that M. Drayton's clerks were rather too stylish-looking; or else,perhaps, be felt apprehensive of one of those numerous petty swindlesof which shopkeepers are constantly the victims.
What is it? said he. "Speak!""I am on my way," spoke M. de Tregars, "to deliver a ring which alady purchased of us yesterday. She is not a regular customer, andhas given us no references. If she doesn't pay, shall I leave thering? My employer told me, 'Consult some prominent tradesman of theneighborhood, and follow his advice.'"Prominent tradesman! Delicately tickled vanity was dancing in thegrocer's eyes.
What is the name of the lady? he inquired.
Mme. Zelie Cadelle.The grocer burst out laughing.
In that case, my boy, he said, tapping familiarly the shoulderof the so-called clerk, "whether she pays or not, you can deliverthe article."The familiarity was not, perhaps, very much to the taste of theMarquis de Tregars. No matter.
She is rich, then, that lady? he said.
"Personally no. But she is protected by an old fool, who allowsher all her fancies.""Indeed!""It is scandalous; and you cannot form an idea of the amount ofmoney that is spent in that house. Horses, carriages, servants,dresses, balls, dinners, card-playing all night, a perpetualcarnival: it must be ruinous! M. de Tregars never winced. And the old man who pays?"" he asked; ""do you know him?""""I have seen him pass,-a tall, lean, old fellow, who doesn't lookvery rich, either. But excuse me: here is a customer I must waitupon.""Having walked out into the street,""We must separate now,"" declared M. de Tregars to Maxence.
" "What! You wish to""Go and wait for me in that caf yonder, at the corner of the street. I must see that Zelie Cadelle and speak to her.And without suffering an objection on the part of Maxence, he walkedresolutely up to the cottage-gate, and rang vigorously.
"At the sound of the bell, one of those servants stepped out into theyard, who seem manufactured on purpose, heaven knows where, for thespecial service of young ladies who keep house, - a tall rascal withsallow complexion and straight hair, a cynical eye, and a low,impudent smile.
What do you wish, sir? he inquired through the grating.
That you should open the door, first, uttered M. de Tregars, withsuch a look and such an accent, that the other obeyed at once.
And now, he added, "go and announce me to Mme. Zelie Cadelle.""Madame is out," replied the valet.
And noticing that M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders,"Upon my word," he said, "she has gone to the bois with one of herfriends. If you won't believe me, ask my comrades there."And he pointed out two other servants of the same pattern as himself,who were silting at a table in the carriage-house, playing cards,and drinking.
But M. de Tregars did not mean to be imposed upon. He felt certainthat the man was lying. Instead, therefore, of discussing,"I want you to take me to your mistress," be ordered, in a tone thatadmitted of no objection; "or else I'll find my way to her alone."It was evident that he would do just as he said, by force if needsbe. The valet saw this, and, after hesitating a moment longer,"Come along, then," he said, "since you insist so much. We'll talkto the chambermaid."And, having led M. de Tregars into the vestibule, he called out,"Mam'selle Amanda!"A woman at once made her appearance who was a worthy mate for thevalet. She must have been about forty, and the most alarmingduplicity could be read upon her features, deeply pitted by thesmall-pox. She wore a pretentious dress, an apron like astage-servant, and a cap profusely decorated with flowers andribbons.
Here is a gentleman, said the valet, "who insists upon seeingmadame. You fix it with him."Better than her fellow servant, Mlle. Amanda could judge with whomshe had to deal. A single glance at this obstinate visitorconvinced her that he was not one who can be easily turned off.
Putting on, therefore, her pleasantest smile, thus displaying atthe same time her decayed teeth,"The fact is that monsieur will very much disturb madame," sheobserved.
I shall excuse myself."But I'll be scolded.Instead of answering, M. de Tregars took a couple oftwenty-franc-notes out of his pocket, and slipped them into herhand.
Please follow me to the parlor, then, she said with a heavy sigh.
M. de Tregars did so, whilst observing everything around him withthe attentive perspicacity of a deputy sheriff preparing to makeout an inventory.
Being double, the house was much more spacious than could havebeen thought from the street, and arranged with that science ofcomfort which is the genius of modern architects.
The most lavish luxury was displayed on all sides; not that solid,quiet, and harmonious luxury which is the result of long years ofopulence, but the coarse, loud, and superficial luxury of theparvenu, who is eager to enjoy quick, and to possess all that hehas craved from others.
The vestibule was a folly, with its exotic plants climbing alongcrystal trellises, and its Sevres and China jardinieres filled withgigantic azaleas. And along the gilt railing of the stairs marbleand bronze statuary was intermingled with masses of growing flowers.
It must take twenty thousand francs a year to keep up thisconservatory alone, thought M. de Tregars.
Meantime the old chambermaid opened a satinwood door with silverlock.
That's the parlor, she said. "Take a seat whilst I go and tellmadame."In this parlor everything had been combined to dazzle. Furniture,carpets, hangings, every thing, was rich, too rich, furiously,incontestably, obviously rich. The chandelier was a masterpiece,the clock an original and, unique piece of work. The pictureshanging upon the wall were all signed with the most famous names.
To judge of the rest by what I have seen, thought M. de Tregars,"there must have been at least four or five hundred thousand francsspent on this house."And, although he was shocked by a quantity of details which betrayedthe most absolute lack of taste, he could hardly persuade himselfthat the cashier of the Mutual Credit could be the master of thissumptuous dwelling; and he was asking himself whether he had notfollowed the wrong scent, when a circumstance came to put an end toall his doubts.
Upon the mantlepiece, in a small velvet frame, was Vincent Favoral'sportrait.
M. de Tregars had been seated for a few minutes, and was collectinghis somewhat scattered thoughts, when a slight grating sound, anda rustling noise, made him turn around.
Mme. Zelie Cadelle was coming in.
She was a woman of some twenty-five or six, rather tall, lithe, andwell made. Her face was pale and worn; and her heavy dark hair wasscattered over her neck and shoulders. She looked at once sarcasticand good-natured, impudent and naive, with her sparkling eyes, herturned-up nose, and wide mouth furnished with teeth, sound and white,like those of a young dog. She had wasted no time upon her dress;for she wore a plain blue cashmere wrapper, fastened at the waistwith a sort of silk scarf of similar color.
From the very threshold,"Dear me!" she exclaimed, "how very singular!"M. de Tregars stepped forward.
What? he inquired.
Oh, nothing! she replied, - "nothing at all!"And without ceasing to look at him with a wondering eye, butsuddenly changing her tone of voice,"And so, sir," she said, "my servants have been unable to keep youfrom forcing yourself into my house!""I hope, madame," said M. de Tregars with a polite bow, "that youwill excuse my persistence. I come for a matter which can sufferno delay."She was still looking at him obstinately. "Who are you?" she asked.
My name will not afford you any information. I am the Marquis deTregars."Tregars! she repeated, looking up at the ceiling, as if in searchof an inspiration. "Tregars! Never heard of it!"And throwing herself into an 'arm chair,"Well, sir, what do you wish with me, then? Speak!"He had taken a seat near her, and kept his eyes riveted upon hers.
I have come, madame, he replied, "to ask you to put me in the wayto see and speak to the man whose photograph is there on themantlepiece."He expected to take her by surprise, and that by a shudder, a cry,a gesture, she might betray her secret. Not at all.
Are you, then, one of M. Vincent's friends? she asked quietly.
M. de Tregars understood, and this was subsequently confirmed, thatit was under his Christian name of Vincent alone, that the cashierof the Mutual Credit was known in the Rue du Cirque.
Yes, I am a friend of his, he replied; "and if I could see him,I could probably render him an important service.
Well, you are too late."Why?"Because M. Vincent put off more than twenty-four hours since?"Are you sure of that?"As sure as a person can be who went to the railway stationyesterday with him and all his baggage."You saw him leave?"As I see you."Where was he going?"To Havre, to take the steamer for Brazil, which was to sail on thesame day; so that, by this time, he must be awfully seasick."And you really think that it was his intention to go to Brazil?"He said so. It was written on his thirty-six trunks in lettershalf a foot high. Besides, he showed me his ticket."Have you any idea what could have induced him to expatriate himselfthus, at his age?"He told me he had spent all his money, and also some of otherpeople's; that he was afraid of being arrested; and that he wasgoing yonder to be quiet, and try to make another fortune.Was Mme. Zelie speaking in good faith? To ask the question wouldhave been rather naive; but an effort might be made to find out.
Carefully concealing his own impressions, and the importance heattached to this conversation,"I pity you sincerely, madame," resumed M. de Tregars; "for you mustbe sorely grieved by this sudden departure.""Me!" she said in a voice that came from the heart. "I don't carea straw."Marquis de Tregars knew well enough the ladies of the class to whichhe supposed that Mme. Zelie Cadelle must belong, not to be surprisedat this frank declaration.
And yet, he said, "you are indebted to him for the princelymagnificence that surrounds you here.""Of course.""He being gone, as you say, will you be able to keep up your styleof living?"Half raising herself from her seat,"I haven't the slightest idea of doing so," she exclaimed." Neverin the whole world have I had such a stupid time as for the lastfive months that I have spent in this gilded cage. What a bore,my beloved brethren! I am yawning still at the mere thought of thenumber of times I have yawned in it."M. de Tregars' gesture of surprise was the more natural, that hissurprise was immense.
You are tired being here? he said.
To death."And you have only been here five months?"Dear me; yes! and by the merest chance, too, you'll see. One dayat the beginning of last December, I was coming from - but no matterwhere I was coming from. At any rate, I hadn't a cent in my pocket,and nothing but an old calico dress on my back; and I was goingalong, not in the best of humor, as you may imagine, when I feelthat some one is following me. Without looking around, and fromthe corner of my eye, if look over my shoulder, and I see arespectable-looking old gentleman, wearing a long frock-coat."M.Vincent?"In his own natural person, and who was walking, walking. I quietlybegin to walk slower; and, as soon as we come to a place where therewas hardly any one, he comes up alongside of me.Something comical must have happened at this moment, which Mme.
Zelie Cadelle said nothing about; for she was laughing most heartily,- a frank and sonorous laughter.
Then, she resumed, "he begins at once to explain that I remindhim of a person whom he loved tenderly, and whom he has just hadthe misfortune to lose, adding, that he would deem himself thehappiest of men if I would allow him to take care of me, and insureme a brilliant position.""You see! That rascally Vincent!" said M. de Tregars, just to besaying something.
Mme. Zelie shook her head.
You know him, she resumed. "He is not young; he is not handsome;he is not funny. I did not fancy him one bit; and, if I had onlyknown where to find shelter for the night, I'd soon have sent himto the old Nick, - him and his brilliant position. But, not havingenough money to buy myself a penny-loaf, it wasn't the time to puton any airs. So I tell him that I accept. He goes for a cab; weget into it; and he brings me right straight here."Positively M. de Tregars required his entire self-control to concealthe intensity of his curiosity.
Was this house, then, already as it is now? he interrogated.
Precisely, except that there were no servants in it, except thechambermaid Amanda, who is M. Favoral's confidante. All the othershad been dismissed; and it was a hostler from a stable near by whocame to take care of the horses."And what then?"Then you may imagine what I looked like in the midst of all thismagnificence, with my old shoes and my fourpenny skirt. Somethinglike a grease-spot on a satin dress. M. Vincent seemed delighted,nevertheless. He had sent Amanda out to get me some under-clothingand a ready-made wrapper; and, whilst waiting, he took me allthrough the house, from the cellar to the garret, saying thateverything was at my command, and that the next day I would have abattalion of servants to wait on me.It was evidently with perfect frankness that she was speaking, andwith the pleasure one feels in telling an extraordinary adventure.
But suddenly she stopped short, as if discovering that she wasforgetting herself, and going farther than was proper.
And it was only after a moment of reflection that she went on,"It was like fairyland to me. I had never tasted the opulence ofthe great, you see, and I had never had any money except that whichI earned. So, during the first days, I did nothing but run up anddown stairs, admiring everything, feeling everything with my ownhands, and looking at myself in the glass to make sure that I wasnot dreaming. I rang the bell just to make the servants come up;I spent hours trying dresses; then I'd have the horses put to thecarriage, and either ride to the bois, or go out shopping. M.
Vincent gave me as much money as I wanted; and it seemed as though Inever spent enough. I shout, I was like a mad woman.
A cloud appeared upon Mme. Zelie's countenance, and, changingsuddenly her tone and her manner,"Unfortunately," she went on, "one gets tired of every thing. Atthe end of two weeks I knew the house from top to bottom, and aftera month I was sick of the whole thing; so that one night I begandressing.
"'Where do you want to go?' Amanda asked me. 'Why, to Mabille, to dance a quadrille, or two.' 'Impossible!' 'Why?' 'Because M. Vincent does not wish you to go out at night.' 'We'll see about that!' The next day, I tell all this to M. Vincent; and he says that Amandais right; that it is not proper for a woman in my position tofrequent balls; and that, if I want to go out at night, I can stay. Get out! I tell you what, if it hadn't been for the fine carriage,and all that, I would have cleared out that minute. Any way, Ibecame disgusted from that moment, and have been more and more eversince; and, if M. Vincent had not himself left, I certainly would.""To go where?""Anywhere. Look here, now! do you suppose I need a man to supportme! No, thank Heaven! Little Zelie, here present, has only toapply to any dressmaker, and she'll be glad to give her four francsa day to run the machine. And she'll be free, at least; and she canlaugh and dance as much as she likes.M. de Tregars had made a mistake: he had just discovered it.
"Mme. Zelie Cadelle was certainly not particularly virtuous; but shewas far from being the woman he expected to meet.
At any rate, he said, "you did well to wait patiently.""I do not regret it.""If you can keep this house -"She interrupted him with a great burst of laughter.
This house! she exclaimed. "Why, it was sold long ago, with everything in it, - furniture, horses, carriages, every thing except me.
A young gentleman, very well dressed, bought it for a tall girl, wholooks like a goose, and has far over a thousand francs of red hair onher head.".
"Are you sure of that?""Sure as I live, having seen with my own eyes the young swell andhis red-headed friend counting heaps of bank-notes to M. Vincent. They are to move in day after to-morrow; and they have invited meto the house-warming. But no more of it for me, I thank you! Iam sick and tired of all these people. And the proof of it is, Iam busy packing my things; and lots of them I have too, - dresses,underclothes, jewelry. He was a good-natured fellow, old Vincentwas, anyhow. He gave me money enough to buy some furniture. Ihave hired a small apartment; and I am going to set up dress-makingon my own hook. And won't we laugh then! and won't we have somefun to make up for lost time! Come, my children, take your placesfor a quadrille. Forward two!And, bouncing out of her chair, she began sketching out one ofthose bold cancan steps which astound the policemen on duty in theball-rooms.
"Bravo! said M. de Tregars, forcing himself to smile, - "bravo!"He saw clearly now what sort of woman was Mme. Zelie Cadelle; howhe should speak to her, and what cords he might yet cause to vibratewithin her. He recognized the true daughter of Paris, wayward andnervous, who in the midst of her disorders preserves an instinctivepride; who places her independence far above all the money in theworld; who gives, rather than sells, herself; who knows no law buther caprice, no morality but the policeman, no religion but pleasure.
As soon as she had returned to her seat,"There you are dancing gayly," he said, "and poor Vincent isdoubtless groaning at this moment over his separation from you.""Ah! I'd pity him if I had time," she said.
He was fond of you?"Don't speak of it."If he had not been fond of you, he would not have put you here.Mme. Zelie made a little face of equivocal meaning.
What proof is that? she murmured.
He would not have spent so much money for you."For me! she interrupted, - "for me! What have I cost him of anyconsequence? Is it for me that he bought, furnished, and fittedout this house? No, no! He had the cage; and he put in the bird,- the first he happened to find. He brought me here as he mighthave brought any other woman, young or old, pretty or ugly, blondeor brunette. As to what I spent here, it was a mere bagatellecompared with what the other did, - the one before me. Amanda kepttelling me all the time I was a fool. You may believe me, then,when I tell you that M. Vincent will not wet many handkerchiefswith the tears he'll shed over me.""But do you know what became of the one before you, as you call her,- whether she is alive or dead, and owing to what circumstances thecage became empty?"But, instead of answering, Mme. Zelie was fixing upon Marius deTregars a suspicious glance. And, after a moment only,"Why do you ask me that?" she said.
I would like to know.She did not permit him to proceed. Rising from her seat, andstepping briskly up to him,"Do you belong to the police, by chance?" she asked in a tone ofmistrust.
If she was anxious, it was evidently because she had motives ofanxiety which she had concealed. If, two or three times she hadinterrupted herself, it was because, manifestly, she had a secretto keep. If the idea of police had come into her mind, it isbecause, very probably, they had recommended her to be on her guard.
M. de Tregars understood all this, and, also, that he had tried togo too fast.
Do I look like a secret police-agent? he asked.
She was examining him with all her power of penetration.
Not at all, I confess," she replied. "But, if you are not one, howis it that you come to my house, without knowing me from this sideof sole leather, to ask me a whole lot of questions, which I amfool enough to answer?""I told you I was a friend of M. Favoral.""Who's that Favoral?""That's M. Vincent's real name, madame."She opened her eyes wide.
You must be mistaken. I never heard him called any thing butVincent."It is because he had especial motives for concealing hispersonality. The money he spent here did not belong to him: hetook it, he stole it, from the Mutual Credit Company where he wascashier, and where he left a deficit of twelve millions.Mme. Zelie stepped back as though she had trodden on a snake.
It's impossible!" she cried.
It is the exact truth. Haven't you seen in the papers the caseof Vincent Favoral, cashier of the Mutual Credit?And, taking a paper from his pocket, he handed it to the young woman,saying, "Read."But she pushed it back, not without a slight blush. "Oh, I believeyou!" she said.
The fact is, and Marius understood it, she did not read veryfluently.
The worst of M. Vincent Favoral's conduct, he resumed, "is, that,while he was throwing away money here by the handful, he subjectedhis family to the most cruel privations.""Oh!""He refused the necessaries of life to his wife, the best and theworthiest of women; he never gave a cent to his son; and hedeprived his daughter of every thing.""Ah, if I could have suspected such a thing!" murmured Mme. Zelie.
Finally, and to cap the - climax, he has gone, leaving his wifeand children literally without bread.Transported with indignation,"Why, that man must have been a horrible old scoundrel" exclaimedthe young woman.
This is just the point to which M. de Tregars wished to bring, her.
And now, he resumed, "you must understand the enormous interestwe have in knowing what has become of him.""I have already told you."M. de Tregars had risen, in his turn. Taking Mme. Zelie's hands,and fixing upon her one of those acute looks, which search for thetruth down to the innermost recesses of the conscience,"Come, my dear child," he began in a penetrating voice, "you are aworthy and honest girl. Will you leave in the most frightfuldespair a family who appeal to your heart? Be sure that no harmwill ever happen through us to Vincent Favoral."She raised her hand, as they do to take an oath in a court ofjustice, and, in a solemn tone,"I swear," she uttered, "that I went to the station with M. Vincent;that he assured me that he was going to Brazil; that he had hispassage-ticket; and that all his baggage was marked, 'Rio deJaneiro.'"The disappointment was great: and M. de Tregars manifested it bya gesture.
At least, he insisted, "tell me who the woman was whose place youtook here."But already had the young woman returned to her feeling of mistrust.
How in the world do you expect me to know? she replied. "Go andask Amanda. I have no accounts to give you. Besides, I have togo and finish packing my trunks. So good-by, and enjoy yourself."And she went out so quick, that she caught Amanda, the chambermaid,kneeling behind the door.
So that woman was listening, thought M. de Tregars, anxious anddissatisfied.
But it was in vain that he begged Mme. Zelie to return, and to heara single word more. She disappeared; and he had to resign himselfto leave the house without learning any thing more for the present.
He had remained there very long; and he was wondering, as he walkedout, whether Maxence had not got tired waiting for him in the littlecaf where he had sent him.
But Maxence had remained faithfully at his post. And when Marius deTregars came to sit by him, whilst exclaiming, "Here you are at last!"he called his attention at the same time with a gesture, and a winkfrom the corner of his eye, to two men sitting at the adjoining tablebefore a bowl of punch.
Certain, now, that M. de Tregars would remain on the lookout, Maxencewas knocking on the table with his fist, to call the waiter, who wasbusy playing billiards with a customer.
And when he came at last, justly annoyed at being disturbed,"Give us two mugs of beer," Maxence ordered, "and bring us a packof cards."M. de Tregars understood very well that something extraordinary hadhappened; but, unable to guess what, he leaned over towards hiscompanion.
What is it? he whispered.
We must hear what these two men are saying; and we'll play a gameof piquet for a subterfuge.The waiter returned, bringing two glasses of a muddy liquid, a pieceof cloth, the color of which was concealed under a layer of dirt, anda pack of cards horribly soft and greasy.
My deal, said Maxence.
And he began shuffling, and giving the cards, whilst M. de Tregarswas examining the punch-drinkers at the next table.
In one of the two, a man still young, wearing a striped vest withalpaca sleeves, he thought he recognized one of the rascally-lookingfellows he had caught a glimpse of in Mme. Zelie Cadelle'scarriage-house.
The other, an old man, whose inflamed complexion and blossomingnose betrayed old habits of drunkenness, looked very much like acoachman out of place. Baseness and duplicity bloomed upon hiscountenance; and the brightness of his small eyes rendered stillmore alarming the slyly obsequious smile that was stereotyped uponhis thin and pale lips.
They were so completely absorbed in their conversation, that theypaid no attention whatever to what was going on around them.
Then, the old one was saying, "it's all over.""Entirely. The house is sold.""And the boss?""Gone to America.""What! Suddenly, that way?""No. We supposed he was going on some journey, because, every daysince the beginning of the week, they were bringing in trunks andboxes; but no one knew exactly when he would go. Now, in the nightof Saturday to Sunday, he drops in the house like a bombshell, wakesup everybody, and says he must leave immediately. At once weharness up, we load the baggage up, we drive him to the WesternRailway Station, and good-by, Vincent!""And the young lady?""She's got to get out in the next twenty-four hours; but she don'tseem to mind it one bit. The fact is we are the ones who grievethe most, after all.""Is it possible?""It is so. She was a good girl; and we won't soon find one likeher."The old man seemed distressed.
Bad luck! he growled. "I would have liked that house myself.""Oh, I dare say you would!""And there is no way to get in?""Can't tell. It will be well to see the others, those who havebought. But I mistrust them: they look too stupid not to be mean."Listening intently to the conversation of these two men, it wasmechanically and at random that M. de Tregars and Maxence threwtheir cards on the table, and uttered the common terms of the gameof piquet,"Five cards! Tierce, major! Three aces."Meantime the old man was going on,"Who knows but what M. Vincent may come back?""No danger of that!""Why?"The other looked carefully around, and, seeing only two playersabsorbed in their game,"Because," he replied, "M. Vincent is completely ruined, it seems.
He spent all his money, and a good deal of other people's moneybesides. Amanda, the chambermaid, told me; and I guess she knows.""You thought he was so rich!"" He was. But no matter how big a bag is: if you keep taking outof it, you must get to the bottom.""Then he spent a great deal?""It's incredible! I have been in extravagant houses; but nowherehave I ever seen money fly as it has during the five months that Ihave been in that house. A regular pillage! Everybody helpedthemselves; and what was not in the house, they could get from thetradespeople, have it charged on the bill; and it was all paidwithout a word.""Then, yes, indeed, the money must have gone pretty lively," saidthe old one in a convinced tone.
Well, replied the other, "that was nothing yet. Amanda thechambermaid who has been in the house fifteen years, told us somestories that would make you jump. She was not much for spending,Zelie; but some of the others, it seems...
It required the greatest effort on the part of Maxence and M. deTregars not to play, but only to pretend to play, and to continueto count imaginary points, - " One, two, three, four."Fortunately the coachman with the red nose seemed much interested.
What others? he asked.
That I don't know any thing about, replied the younger valet.
But you may imagine that there must have been more than one in thatlittle house during the many years that M. Vincent owned it, - a man whohadn't his equal for women, and who was worth millions."And what was his business?"Don't know that, either."What! there were ten of you in the house, and you didn't know theprofession of the man who paid you all?"We were all new."The chambermaid, Amanda, must have known."When she was asked, she said that he was a merchant. One thing issure, he was a queer old chap.So interested was the old coachman, that, seeing the punch-bowlempty, he called for another. His comrade could not fail to showhis appreciation of such politeness.
Ah, yes! he went on, "old Vincent was an eccentric fellow; andnever, to see him, could you have suspected that he cut up suchcapers, and that he threw money away by the handful""Indeed!
"Imagine a man about fifty years old, stiff as a post, with a faceabout as pleasant as a prison-gate. That's the boss! Summer andwinter, he wore laced shoes, blue stockings, gray pantaloons thatwere too short, a cotton necktie, and a frock-coat that came downto his ankles. In the street, you would have taken him for a hosierwho had retired before his fortune was made.""You don't say so!""No, never have I seen a man look so much like an old miser. Youthink, perhaps, that he came in a carriage. Not a bit of it! Hecame in the omnibus, my boy, and outside too, for three sons; andwhen it rained he opened his umbrella. But the moment he hadcrossed the threshold of the house, presto, pass! complete changeof scene. The miser became pacha. He took off his old duds, puton a blue velvet robe; and then there was nothing handsome enough,nothing good enough, nothing expensive enough for him. And, whenhe had acted the my lord to his heart's content, he put on his oldtraps again, resumed his prison-gate face, climbed up on top of theomnibus, and went off as he came.""And you were not surprised, all of you, at such a life?""Very much so.""And you did not think that these singular whims must concealsomething?""Oh, but we did!""And you didn't try to find out what that something was? How could we?""""Was it very difficult to follow your boss, and ascertain where hewent, after leaving the house?""""Certainly not; but what then?""""Why,"" he replied, ""you would have found out his secret in the end;and then you would have gone to him and told him, 'Give me so much,or I peach.'""
"This story of M. Vincent, as told by these two honest companions,was something like the vulgar legend of other people's money, soeagerly craved, and so madly dissipated. Easily-gotten wealth iseasily gotten rid of. Stolen money has fatal tendencies, and turnsirresistibly to gambling, horse-jockeys, fast women, all the ruinousfancies, all the unwholesome gratifications.
They are rare indeed, among the daring cut-throats of speculation,those to whom their ill-gotten gain proves of real service, - sorare, that they are pointed out, and are as easily numbered as thegirls who leap some night from the street to a ten-thousand-francapartment, and manage to remain there.
Seized with the intoxication of sudden wealth, they lose all measureand all prudence. Whether they believe their luck inexhaustible, orfear a sudden turn of fortune, they make haste to enjoy themselves,and they fill the noted restaurants, the leading cafes, the theatres,the clubs, the race-courses, with their impudent personality, theclash of their voice, the extravagance of their mistresses, thenoise of their expenses, and the absurdity of their vanity. Andthey go on and on, lavishing other people's money, until the fatalhour of one of those disastrous liquidations which terrify thecourts and the exchange, and cause pallid faces and a gnashing ofteeth in the "street," until the moment when they have the choicebetween a pistol-shot, which they never choose, the criminal court,which they do their best to avoid, and a trip abroad.
What becomes of them afterwards? To what gutters do they tumblefrom fall to fall? Does any one know what becomes of the women whodisappear suddenly after two or three years of follies and ofsplendors?
But it happens sometimes, as you step out of a carriage in front ofsome theatre, that you wonder where you have already seen the faceof the wretched beggar who opens the door for you, and in a huskyvoice claims his two sous. You saw him at the Caf Riche, duringthe six months that he was a big financier.
Some other time you may catch, in the crowd, snatches of a strangeconversation between two crapulous rascals.
It was at the time, says one, "when I drove that bright chestnutteam that I had bought for twenty thousand francs of the eldest sonof the Duke de Sermeuse.""I remember," replies the other; "for at that moment I gave sixthousand francs a month to little Cabriole of the Varieties."And, improbable as this may seem, it is the exact truth; for onewas manager of a manufacturing enterprise that sank ten millions;and the other was at the head of a financial operation that ruinedfive hundred families. They had house like the one in the Rue duCirque, mistresses more expensive than Mme. Zelie Cadelle, andservants like those who were now talking within a step of Maxenceand Marius de Tregars. The latter had resumed their conversation;and the oldest one, the coachman with the red nose, was saying tohis younger comrade,"This Vincent affair must be a lesson to you. If ever you findyourself again in a house where so much money is spent, rememberthat it hasn't cost much trouble to make it, and manage somehowto get as big a share of it as you can.""That's what I've always done wherever I have been.""And, above all, make haste to fill your bag, because, you see,in houses like that, one is never sure, one day, whether, thenext, the gentleman will not be at Mazas, and the lady at St.
Lazares."They had done their second bowl of punch, and finished theirconversation. They paid, and left.
And Maxence and M. de Traggers were able, at last, to throw downtheir cards.
Maxence was very pale; and big tears were rolling down his cheeks.
What disgrace! he murmured: "This, then, is the other side ofmy father's existence! This is the way in which he spent themillions which he stole; whilst, in the Rue St. Gilles, hedeprived his family of the necessaries of life!
And, in a tone of utter discouragement,"Now it is indeed all over, and it is useless to continue oursearch. My father is certainly guilty.
But M. de Traggers was not the man thus to give up the game.
Guilty? Yes, he said, "but dupe also.""Whose dupe?""That's what we'll find out, you may depend upon it.""What! after what we have just heard?""I have more hope than ever.""Did you learn any thing from Mme. Zelie Cadelle, then?""Nothing more than you know by those two rascals' conversation."A dozen questions were pressing upon Maxence's lips; but M. deTraggers interrupted him.
In this case, my friend, less than ever must we trust appearances.
Let me speak. Was your father a simpleton? No! His ability todissimulate, for years, his double existence, proves, on thecontrary, a wonderful amount of duplicity. How is it, then, thatlatterly his conduct has been so extraordinary and so absurd? Butyou will doubtless say it was always such. In that case, I answeryou, No; for then his secret could not have been kept for a year.
We hear that other women lived in that house before Mme. ZelieCadelle. But who were they? What has become of them? Is thereany certainty that they have ever existed? Nothing proves it.
"The servants having been all changed, Amanda, the chambermaid, isthe only one who knows the truth; and she will be very careful tosay nothing about it. Therefore, all our positive informationgoes back no farther than five months. And what do we hear? Thatyour father seemed to try and make his extravagant expenditures asconspicuous as possible. That he did not even take the trouble toconceal the source of the money he spent so profusely; for he toldMme. Zelie that he was at the end of his tether, and that, afterhaving spent his own fortune, he was spending other people's money. He had announced his intended departure; he had sold the house, andreceived its price. Finally, at the last moment, what does he do? Instead of going off quietly and secretly, like a man who isrunning away, and who knows that he is pursued, he tells every onewhere he intends to go; he writes it on all his trunks, in lettershalf a foot high; and then rides in great display to the railwaystation, with a woman, several carriages, servants, etc. What isthe object of all this? To get caught? No, but to start a falsescent. Therefore, in his mind, every thing must have been arrangedin advance, and the catastrophe was far from taking him by surprise;therefore the scene with M. de Thaller must have been prepared;therefore, it must have been on purpose that he left his pocketbookbehind, with the bill in it that was to lead us straight here;therefore all we have seen is but a transparent comedy, got up forour special benefit, and intended to cover up the truth, andmislead the law.""But Maxence was not entirely convinced.
"Still, he remarked, "those enormous expenses."M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders.
Have you any idea, he said, "what display can be made with amillion? Let us admit that your father spent two, four millionseven. The loss of the Mutual Credit is twelve millions. What hasbecome of the other eight?"And, as Maxence made no answer,"It is those eight millions," he added, "that I want, and that Ishall have. It is in Paris that your father is hid, I feel certain.
We must find him; and we must make him tell the truth, which Ialready more than suspect."Whereupon, throwing on the table the pint of beer which he had notdrunk, he walked out of the caf with Maxence.
Here you are at last! exclaimed the coachman, who had beenwaiting at the corner for over three hours, a prey to the utmostanxiety.
But M. de Traggers had no time for explanations; and, pushingMaxence into the cab, he jumped in after him, crying to thecoachman,"24 Rue Joquelet. Five francs extra for yourself." A driver whoexpects an extra five francs, always has, for five minutes at least,a horse as fast as Gladiateur.
Whilst the cab was speeding on to its destination,"What is most important for us now," said M. de Tregars to Maxence,"is to ascertain how far the Mutual Credit crisis has progressed;and M. Latterman of the Rue Joquelet is the man in all Paris whocan best inform us."Whoever has made or lost five hundred francs at the bourse knows M.
Latterman, who, since the war, calls himself an Alsatian and curseswith a fearful accent those "parparous Broossians." This worthyspeculator modestly calls himself a money-changer; but he wouldbe a simpleton who should ask him for change: and it is certainlynot that sort of business which gives him the three hundred thousandfrancs' profits which he pockets every year.
When a company has failed, when it has been wound up, and thedefrauded stockholders have received two or three per cent in allon their original investment, there is a prevailing idea that thecertificates of its stocks are no longer good for any thing, exceptto light the fire. That's a mistake. Long after the company hasfoundered, its shares float, like the shattered debris which thesea casts upon the beach months after the ship has been wrecked.
These shares M. Latterman collects, and carefully stores away; andupon the shelves of his office you may see numberless shares andbonds of those numerous companies which have absorbed, in the pasttwenty years, according to some statistics, twelve hundred millions,and, according to others, two thousand millions, of the publicfortune.
Say but a word, and his clerks will offer you some "Franco-AmericanCompany," some "Steam Navigation Company of Marseilles," some "Coaland Metal Company of the Asturias," some " TranscontinentalMemphis and El Paso" (of the United States), some "Caumart SlateWorks," and hundreds of others, which, for the general public, haveno value, save that of old paper, that is from three to five centsa pound. And yet speculators are found who buy and sell theserags.
In an obscure corner of the bourse may be seen a miscellaneouspopulation of old men with pointed beards, and overdressed youngmen, who deal in every thing salable, and other things besides.
There are found foreign merchants, who will offer you stocks ofmerchandise, goods from auction, good claims to recover, and whoat last will take out of their pockets an opera-glass, a Genevawatch (smuggled in), a revolver, or a bottle of patenthair-restorer.
Such is the market to which drift those shares which were onceissued to represent millions, and which now represent nothing buta palpable proof of the audacity of swindlers, and the credulityof their dupes. And there are actually buyers for these shares,and they go up or down, according to the ordinary laws of supplyand demand; for there is a demand for them, and here comes in theusefulness of M. Latterman's business.
Does a tradesman, on the eve of declaring himself bankrupt, wishto defraud his creditors of a part of his assets, to concealexcessive expenses, or cover up some embezzlement, at once he goesto the Rue Joquelet, procures a select assortment of " CantonalCredit," "Rossdorif Mines," or "Maumusson Salt Works," and putsthem carefully away in his safe.
And, when the receiver arrives,"There are my assets," he says. "I have there some twenty, fifty,or a hundred thousand francs of stocks, the whole of which is notworth five francs to-day; but it isn't my fault. I thought it agood investment; and I didn't sell, because I always thought theprice would come up again."And he gets his discharge, because it would really be too cruel topunish a man because he has made unfortunate investments.
Better than any one, M. Latterman knows for what purpose arepurchased the valueless securities which he sells; and he actuallyadvises his customers which to take in preference, in order thattheir purchase at the time of their issue may appear more natural,and more likely. Nevertheless, he claims to be a perfectly honestman, and declares that he is no more responsible for the swindlesthat are committed by means of his stocks than a gunsmith for amurder committed with a gun that he has sold.
But he will surely be able to tell us all about the Mutual Credit,repeated Maxence to M. de Traggers.
Four o'clock struck when the carriage stopped in the Rue Joquelet.
The bourse had just closed; and a few groups were still standing inthe square, or along the railings.
I hope we shall find this Latterman at home, said Maxence.
They started up the stairs (for it is up on the second floor thatthis worthy operator has his offices) ; and, having inquired,"M. Latterman is engaged with a customer," answered a clerk.
Please sit down and wait.M. Latterman's office was like all other caverns of the same kind.
A very narrow space was reserved to the public; and all around,behind a heavy wire screen, the clerks could be seen busy withfigures, or handling coupons. On the right, over a small window,appeared the word, "CASHIER." A small door on the left led tothe private office.
M. de Tregars and Maxence had patiently taken a seat on a hardleather bench, once red; and they were listening and looking on.
There was considerable animation about the place. Every fewminutes, well-dressed young men came in with a hurried andimportant look, and, taking out of their pocket a memorandum-book,they would speak a few sentences of that peculiar dialect,bristling with figures, which is the language of the bourse. Atthe end of fifteen or twenty minutes,"Will M. Latterman be engaged much longer?" inquired M. de Traggers.
I do not know, replied a clerk.
At that very moment, the little door on the left opened, and thecustomer came out who had detained M. Latterman so long. Thiscustomer was no other than M. Costeclar. Noticing M. de Traggersand Maxence, who had risen at the noise of the door, he appearedmost disagreeably surprised. He even turned slightly pale, andtook a step backwards, as if intending to return precipitatelyinto the room that he was leaving; for M. Latterman's office,like that of all other large operators, had several doors, withoutcounting the one that leads to the police-court. But M. deTraggers gave him no time to effect this retreat. Stepping suddenlyforward,"Well?" he asked him in a tone that was almost threatening.
The brilliant financier had condescended to take off his hat,usually riveted upon his head, and, with the smile of a knave caughtin the act,"I did not expect to meet you here, my lord-marquis," he said.
At the title of "marquis," everybody looked up. "I believe you,indeed," said M. de Traggers. "But what I want to know is, howis the matter progressing?""The plot is thickening. Justice is acting."Indeed!""It is a fact. Jules Jottras, of the house of Jottras and Brother,was arrested this morning, just as he arrived at the bourse.""Why?""Because, it seems, he was an accomplice of Favoral; and it washe who sold the bonds stolen from the Mutual Credit."Maxence had started at the mention of his father's name but, witha significant glance, M. de Traggers bid him remain silent, and,in a sarcastic tone,"Famous capture!" he murmured. "And which proves theclear-sightedness of justice.""But this is not all," resumed M. Costeclar. "Saint Pavin, theeditor of 'The Financial Pilot,' you know, is thought to be seriouslycompromised. There was a rumor, at the close of the market, that awarrant either had been, or was about to be, issued against him.""And the Baron de Thaller?"The employes of the office could not help admiring M. Costeclar'sextraordinary amount of patience.
The baron, he replied, "made his appearance at the bourse thisafternoon, and was the object of a veritable ovation..""That is admirable! And what did he say?""That the damage was already repaired.""Then the shares of the Mutual Credit must have advanced.""Unfortunately, not. They did not go above one hundred and tenfrancs.""Were you not astonished at that?""Not much, because, you see, I am a business-man, I am; and I knowpretty well how things work. When they left M. de Thaller thismorning, the stockholders of the Mutual Credit had a meeting; andthey pledged themselves, upon honor, not to sell, so as not to breakthe market. As soon as they had separated, each one said to himself,'Since the others are going to keep their stock, like fools, I amgoing to sell mine.' Now, as there were three or four hundred ofthem who argued the same way, the market was flooded with shares."Looking the brilliant financier straight in the eyes,"And yourself?" interrupted M. de Traggers.
I! stammered M. Costeclar, so visibly agitated, that the clerkscould not help laughing.
Yes. I wish to know if you have been more faithful to your wordthan the stockholders of whom you are speaking, and whether youhave done as we had agreed."Certainly; and, if you find me hereBut M. de Traggers, placing his own hand over his shoulder, stoppedhim short.
I think I know what brought you here, he uttered; "and in a fewmoments I shall have ascertained.""I swear to you.""Don't swear. If I am mistaken, so much the better for you. If Iam not mistaken, I'll prove to you that it is dangerous to try anysharp game on me, though I am not a business-man."Meantime M. Latterman, seeing no customer coming to take the placeof the one who had left, became impatient at last, and appearedupon the threshold of his private office.
He was a man still young, small, thick-set, and vulgar. At thefirst glance, nothing of him could be seen but his abdomen, - a big,great, and ponderous abdomen, seat of his thoughts, and tabernacleof his aspirations, over which dangled a double gold chain, loadedwith trinkets. Above an apoplectic neck, red as that of aturkey-cock, stood his little head, covered with coarse red hair,cut very short. He wore a heavy beard, trimmed in the form of a fan.
His large, full-moon face was divided in two by a nose as flat as aKalmuck's, and illuminated by two small eyes, in which could be readthe most thorough duplicity.
Seeing M. de Traggers and M. Costeclar engaged in conversation,"Why! you know each other?" he said.
M. de Traggers advanced a step,"We are even-intimate friends," he replied. "And it is very luckythat we should have met. I am brought here by the same matter asour dear Costeclar; and I was just explaining to him that he hasbeen too hasty, and that it would be best to wait three or four dayslonger.""That's just what I told him," echoed the honorable financier.
Maxence understood only one thing, - that M. de Tregars hadpenetrated M. Costeclar's designs; and he could not sufficientlyadmire his presence of mind, and his skill in grasping an unexpectedopportunity.
Fortunately there is nothing done yet, added M. Latterman.
And it is yet time to alter what has been agreed on, said M. deTraggers. And, addressing himself to Costeclar,"Come," he added, "we'll fix things with M. Latterman."But the other, who remembered the scene in the Rue St. Gilles, andwho had his own reasons to be alarmed, would sooner have jumped outof the window.
I am expected,:' he stammered. Arrange matters without me.""Then you give me carte blanche?"Ah, if the brilliant financier had dared! But he felt upon him suchthreatening eyes, that he dared even make a gesture of denial.
Whatever you do will be satisfactory, he said in the tone of aman who sees himself lost.
And, as he was going out of the door, M. de Traggers stepped intoM. Latterman's private office. He remained only five minutes; andwhen he joined Maxence, whom he had begged to wait for him,"I think that we have got them," he said as they walked off.
Their next visit was to M. Saint Pavin, at the office of "TheFinancial Pilot." Every one must have seen at least one copy ofthat paper with, its ingenious vignette, representing a bold marinersteering a boat, filled with timid passengers, towards the harborof Million, over a stormy sea, bristling with the rocks of failureand the shoals of ruin. The office of "The Pilot" is, in fact,less a newspaper office than a sort of general business agency.
As at M. Latterman's, there are clerks scribbling behind wirescreens, small windows, a cashier, and an immense blackboard, onwhich the latest quotations of the Rente, and other French andforeign securities, are written in chalk.
As "The Pilot" spends some hundred thousand francs a year inadvertising, in order to obtain subscribers; as, on the other hand,it only costs three francs a year, - it is clear that it is not onits subscriptions that it realizes any profits. It has othersources of income: its brokerages first; for it buys, sells, andexecutes, as the prospectus says, all orders for stocks, bonds, orother securities, for the best interests of the client. And it hasplenty of business.
To the opulent brokerages, must be added advertising and puffing,- another mine. Six times out of ten, when a new enterprise is seton foot, the organizers send for Saint Pavin. Honest men, orknaves, they must all pass through his hands. They know it, andare resigned in advance.
We rely upon you, they say to him.
What advantages have you to offer? he replies.
Then they discuss the operation, the expected profits of the newcompany, and M. Saint Pavin's demands. For a hundred thousandfrancs he promises bursts of lyrism; for fifty thousand he will beenthusiastic only. Twenty thousand francs will secure a moderatepraise of the affair; ten thousand, a friendly neutrality. And,if the said company refuses any advantages to "The Pilot""Ah, you must beware!" says Saint Pavin.
And from the very next number he commences his campaign. He ismoderate at first, and leaves a door open for his retreat. Heputs forth doubts only. He does not know much about it. "It maybe an excellent thing; it may be a wretched one: the safest is towait and see."That's the first hint. If it remains without result, he takes uphis pen again, and makes his doubts more pointed.
He knows how to steer clear of libel suits, how to handle figuresso as to demonstrate, according to the requirements of the case,that two and two make three, or make five. It is seldom, that,before the, third article, the company does not surrender atdiscretion.
All Paris knows him; and he has many friends. When M. de Traggersand Maxence arrived, they found the office full of people- speculators, brokers, go-be-tweens-come there to discussthe fluctuations of the day and the probabilities of the eveningmarket.
M. Saint Pavin is engaged, one of the clerks told them.
Indeed, his coarse voice could be distinctly heard behind the screen.
Soon he appeared, showing out an old gentleman, who seemed utterlyconfused at the scene, and to whom he was screaming,"No, sir, no! 'The Financial Pilot' does not take that sort ofbusiness; and I find you very bold to come and propose to me atwopenny rascality." But, noticing Maxence,"M. Favoral!" he said. "By Jove! it is your good star that hasbrought you here. Come into the private office, my dear sir: come,we'll have some fun now."Many of the people who were in the office had a word to say to M.
Saint Pavin, some advice to ask him, an order to transmit, or somenews to communicate. They had all stepped forward, and were holdingout their hands with a friendly smile. He set them aside with hisusual rudeness.
By and by. I am busy now: leave me alone.And pushing Maxence towards the office-door, which he had justopened," Come in, come in!" he said in a tone of extraordinary impatience.
But M. de Traggers was coming in too; and, as he did not know him,"What do you want, you?" he asked roughly.
The gentleman is my best friend, said Maxence, turning to him;"and I have no secret from him.""Let him walk in, then; but, by Heaven, let us hurry!"Once very sumptuous, the private office of the editor of "TheFinancial Pilot" had fallen into a state of sordid dilapidation.
If the janitor had received orders never to use a broom or a dusterthere, he obeyed them strictly. Disorder and dirt reigned supreme.
Papers and manuscripts lay in all directions; and on the broadsofas the mud from the boots of all those who had lounged uponthem had been drying for months. On the mantel-piece, in themidst of some half-dozen dirty glasses, stood a bottle of Madeira,half empty. Finally, before the fireplace, on the carpet, andalong the furniture, cigar and cigarette stumps were heaped inprofusion.
As soon as he had bolted the door, coming straight to Maxence,"What has become of your father?" inquired M. Saint Pavin rudely.
Maxence started. That was the last question he expected to hear.
I do not know, he replied.
The manager of "The Pilot" shrugged his shoulders. "That youshould say so to the commissary of police, to the judges, and toall Favoral's enemies, I understand: it is your duty. That theyshould believe you, I understand too; for, after all, what dothey care? But to me, a friend, though you may not think so, andwho has reasons not to be credulous""I swear to you that we have no idea where he has taken refuge."Maxence said this with such an accent of sincerity, that doubt wasno longer possible. M. Saint Pavin's features expressed the utmostsurprise.
What! he exclaimed, "your father has gone without securing themeans of hearing from his family?""Yes.""Without saying a word of his intentions to your mother, or yoursister, or yourself?""Without one word.
Without leaving any money, perhaps?"We found only an insignificant sum after he left. The editor of"The Pilot" made a gesture of ironical admiration. "Well, thething is complete," he said; "and Vincent is a smarter fellow thanI gave him credit for; or else he must have cared more for thoseinfernal women of his than any one supposed."M. de Traggers, who had remained hitherto silent, now steppedforward.
What women? he asked.
How do I know? he replied roughly. "How could any one ever findout any thing about a man who was more hermetically shut up in hiscoat than a Jesuit in his gown?""M. Costeclar -""That's another nice bird! Still he may possibly have discoveredsomething of Vincent's life; for he led him a pretty dance.
Wasn't he about to marry Mlle. Favoral once?""Yes, in spite of herself even.""Then you are right: he had discovered something. But, if you relyon him to tell you anything whatever, you are reckoning withoutyour host.""Who knows?" murmured M. de Traggers.
But M. Saint Pavin heard him not. Prey to a violent agitation, hewas pacing up and down the room.
Ah, those men of cold appearance, he growled, "those men withdiscreet countenance, those close-shaving calculators, thosemoralists! What fools they do make of themselves when oncestarted! Who can imagine to what insane extremities this onemay have been driven under the spur of some mad passion!"And stamping violently his foot upon the carpet, from which aroseclouds of dust,"And yet," he swore, "I must find him. And, by thunder! whereverhe may be hid, I shall find him."M. de Traggers was watching M. Saint Pavin with a scrutinizing eye.
You have a great interest in finding him, then? he said.
The other stopped short.
I have the interest, he replied, "of a man who thought himselfshrewd, and who has been taken in like a child, - of a man to whomthey had promised wonders, and who finds his situation imperilled,- of a man who is tired of working for a band of brigands who heapmillions upon millions, and to whom, for all reward, they offerthe police-court and a retreat in the State Prison for his old age,-in a word, the interests of a man who will and shall have revenge,by all that is holy!""On whom?""On the Baron de Thaller, sir! How, in the world, has he beenable to compel Favoral to assume the responsibility of all, andto disappear? What enormous sum has he given to him?""Sir," interrupted Maxence, "my father went off without a sou."M. Saint Pavin burst out in a loud laugh.
And the twelve millions? he asked. "What has become of them?
Do you suppose they have been distributed in deeds of charity?"And without waiting for any further objections,"And yet," he went on, "it is not with money alone that a man canbe induced to disgrace himself, to confess himself a thief and aforger, to brave the galleys, to give up everything, - country,family, friends. Evidently the Baron de Thaller must have hadother means of action, some hold on Favoral"M. de Traggers interrupted him.
You speak, he said, "as if you were absolutely certain of M. de Thaller'scomplicity."Of course.""Why don't you inform on him, then?"The editor of "The Pilot" started back. "What!" he exclaimed, "drawthe fingers of the law into my own business! You don't think of it!
Besides, what good would that do me? I have no proofs of myallegations. Do you suppose that Thaller has not taken hisprecautions, and tied my hands? No, no! without Favoral there isnothing to be done.""Do you suppose, then, that you could induce him to surrenderhimself?""No, but to furnish me the proofs I need, to send Thaller where theyhave already sent that poor Jottras."And, becoming more and more excited,"But it is not in a month that I should want those proofs," he wenton, "nor even in two weeks, but to-morrow, but at this very moment.
Before the end of the week, Thaller will have wound up the operation,realized, Heaven knows how many millions, and put every thing insuch nice order, that justice, who in financial matters is not ofthe first capacity, will discover nothing wrong. If he can do that,he is safe, he is beyond reach, and will be dubbed a first-classfinancier. Then to what may he not aspire! Already he talks ofhaving himself elected deputy; and he says everywhere that he hasfound, to marry his daughter, a gentleman who bears one of theoldest names in France, - the Marquis de Tegars.""Why, this is the Marquis de Tregars!" exclaimed Maxence, pointingto Marius.
For the first time; M. Saint Pavin took the trouble to examine hisvisitor; and he, who knew life too well not to be a judge of men,he seemed surprised.
Please excuse me, sir, he uttered with a politeness very differentfrom his usual manner, "and permit me to ask you if you know thereasons why M. de Thaller is so prodigiously anxious to have youfor a son-in-law.""I think," replied M. de Traggers coldly, "that M. de Thaller wouldnot be sorry to deprive me of the right to seek the causes of myfather's ruin.
But he was interrupted by a great noise of voices in the adjoiningroom; and almost at once there was a loud knock at the door, and avoice called,"In the name of the law!"The editor of "The Pilot" had become whiter than his shirt.
That's what I was afraid of, he said. "Thaller has got ahead ofme; and perhaps I may be lost."Meantime he did not lose his wits. Quick as thought he took out ofa drawer a package of letters, threw them into the fireplace, andset fire to them, saying, in a voice made hoarse by emotion andanger,"No one shall come in until they are burnt."But it required an incredibly long time to make them catch fire;and M. Saint Pavin, kneeling before the hearth; was stirring themup, and scattering them, to make them burn faster.
And now, said M. de Traggers, "will you hesitate to deliver upthe Baron de Thaller into the hands of justice?"He turned around with flashing eyes.
Now, he replied, "if I wish to save myself, I must save him too.
Don't you understand that he holds me?"And, seeing that the last sheets of his correspondence were consumed,"You may open now," he said to Maxence.
Maxence obeyed; and a commissary of police, wearing his scarf ofoffice, rushed into the room; whilst his men, not without difficulty,kept back the crowd in the outer office.
The commissary, who was an old hand, and had perhaps been on ahundred expeditions of this kind, had surveyed the scene at aglance. Noticing in the fireplace the carbonized debris, uponwhich still fluttered an expiring flame,"That's the reason, then," he said, "why you were so long openingthe door?"A sarcastic smile appeared upon the lips of the editor of "The Pilot.""Private matters," he replied; "women's letters.""This will be moral evidence against you, sir.""I prefer it to material evidence."Without condescending to notice the impertinence, the commissarywas casting a suspicious glance on Maxence and M. de Traggers.
Who are these gentlemen who were closeted with you? he asked.
Visitors, sir. This is M. Favoral."The son of the cashier of the Mutual Credit?"Exactly; and this gentleman is the Marquis de Tregars."You should have opened the door when you heard a knocking in thename of the law, grumbled the commissary.
But he did not insist. Taking a paper from his pocket, he openedit, and, handing it to M. Saint Pavin,"I have orders to arrest you," he said. "Here is the warrant."With a careless gesture, the other pushed it back. "What's the useof reading?" he said. "When I heard of the arrest of that poorJottras, I guessed at once what was in store for me. It is aboutthe Mutual Credit swindle, I imagine.""Exactly.""I have no more to do with it than yourself, sir; and I shall havevery little trouble in proving it. But that is not your business.
And you are going, I suppose, to put the seals on my papers?""Except on those that you have burnt."M. Saint Pavin burst out laughing. He had recovered his coolnessand his impudence, and seemed as much at ease as if it were themost natural thing in theworld.
Shall I be allowed to speak to my clerks, he asked, "and to givethem my instructions?""Yes," replied the commissary, "but in my presence."The clerks, being called, appeared, consternation depicted upontheir countenances, but joy sparkling in their eyes. In realitythey were delighted at the misfortune which befell their employer.
You see what happens to me, my boys, he said. "But don't beuneasy. In less than forty-eight hours, the error of which I amthe victim will be recognized, and I shall be liberated on bail.
At any rate, I can rely upon you, can't I?"They all swore that they would be more attentive and more zealousthan ever.
And then addressing himself to his cashier, who was hisconfidential and right-hand man,"As to you, Bernard," he said, "you will run to M. de Thaller's,and advise him of what's going on. Let him have funds ready; forall our depositors will want to draw out their money at once. Youwill then call at the printing-office: have my article on theMutual Credit kept out, and insert in its place some financial newscut out from other papers. Above all, don't mention my arrest,unless M. de Thaller should demand it. Go ahead, and let 'ThePilot' appear as usual: that's important."He had, whilst speaking, lighted a cigar. The honest man, victimof human iniquity, has not a firmer and more tranquil countenance.
Justice does not know, he said to the commissary, who was fumblingin all the drawers of the desk, "what irreparable damage she maycause by arresting so hastily a man who has charge of immenseinterests like me. It is the fortune of ten or twelve smallcapitalists that is put in jeopardy."Already the witnesses of the arrest had retired, one by one, to goand scatter the news along the Boulevard, and also to see whatcould be made out of it; for, at the bourse, news is money.
M. de Traggers and Maxence left also. As they passed the door,"Don't you say any thing about what I told you," M. Saint Pavinrecommended to them.
M. de Traggers made no answer. He had the contracted features andtightly-drawn lips of a man who is maturing a grave determination,which, once taken will be irrevocable.
Once in the street, and when Maxence had opened the carriage-door,"We are going to separate here," he told him in that brief tone ofvoice which reveals a settled plan. "I know enough now to ventureto call at M. de Thaller's. There only shall I be able to see howto strike the decisive blow. Return to the Rue St. Gilles, andrelieve your mother's and sisters anxiety. You shall see me duringthe evening, I promise you."And, without waiting for an answer, he jumped into the cab, whichstarted off.
But it was not to the Rue St. Gilles that Maxence went. He wasanxious, first, to see Mlle. Lucienne, to tell her the events ofthat day, the busiest of his existence; to tell her his discoveries,his surprises, his anxieties, and his hopes.
To his great surprise, he failed to find her at the Hotel desFolies. She had gone riding at three o'clock, M. Fortin told him,and had not yet returned; but she could not be much longer, as itwas already getting dark. Maxence went out again then, to see ifhe could not meet her. He had walked a little way along theBoulevard, when, at some distance off, on the Place du Chateaud'Eau, he thought he noticed an unusual bustle. Almostimmediately he heard shouts of terror. Frightened people wererunning in all directions; and right before him a carriage, goingat full gallop, passed like a flash.
But, quick as it had passed, he had time to recognize Mlle.
Lucienne, pale, and clinging desperately to the seat. Wild withfear, he started after it as fast as he could run. It was clearthat the driver had no control over his horses. A policeman whotried to stop them was knocked down. Ten steps farther, thehind-wheel of the carriage, catching the wheel of a heavy wagon,broke to splinters; and Mlle. Lucienne was thrown into the street,whilst the driver fell over on the sidewalk.
The Baron de Thaller was too practical a man to live in the samehouse, or even in the same district, where his offices werelocated. To dwell in the midst of his business; to be constantlysubjected to the contact of his employes, to the unkindly commentsof a crowd of subordinates; to expose himself to hourly annoyances,to sickening solicitations, to the reclamations and eternalcomplaints of his stockholders and his clients! Pouah! He'd havegiven up the business first. And so, on the very days when he hadestablished the offices of the Mutual Credit in the Rue deQuatre-Septembre, he had purchased a house in the Rue de laPepiniere within a step of the Faubourg St. Honore.
It was a brand-new house, which had never yet been occupied, andwhich had just been erected by a contractor who was almostcelebrated, towards 1866, at the moment of the great transformationsof Paris, when whole blocks were leveled to the ground, and roseagain so rapidly, that one might well wonder whether the masons,instead of a trowel, did not make use of a magician's wand.
This contractor, named Parcimieux, had come from the Limousin in1860 with his carpenter's tools for all fortune, and, in less thansix years, had accumulated, at the lowest estimate, six millionsof francs. Only he was a modest man, and took as much pains toconceal his fortune, and offend no one, as most parvenus do todisplay their wealth, and insult the public.
Though he could hardly sign his name, yet he knew and practisedthe maxim of the Greek philosopher, which is, perhaps, the truesecret of happiness, - hide thy life. And there were no expedientsto which he did not resort to hide it. At the time of his greatestprosperity, for instance, having need of a carriage, he had appliedto the manager of the Petites Voitures Company, and had had builtfor himself two cabs, outwardly similar in every respect to thoseused by the company, but within, most luxuriously upholstered, anddrawn by horses of common appearance, but who could go theirtwenty-five miles in two hours any day. And these he had hired bythe year.
Having his carriage, the worthy builder determined to have, also,his house, his own house, built by himself. But this requiredinfinitely greater precautions still.
For, as you may imagine, he explained to his friends, "a man doesnot make as much money as I have, without also making many cruel,bitter, and irreconcilable enemies. I have against me all thebuilders who have not succeeded, all the sub-contractors I employ,and who say that I speculate on their poverty, and the thousands ofworkmen who work for me, and swear that I grind them down to thedust. Already they call me brigand, slaver, thief, leech. Whatwould it be, if they saw me living in a beautiful house of my own?
They'd swear that I could not possibly have got so rich honestly,and that I must have committed some crimes. Besides, to build mea handsome house on the street would be, in case of a mob, settingup windows for the stones of all the rascals who have been in myemployment."Such were M. Parcimieux's thoughts, when, as he expressed it, heresolved to build.
A lot was for sale in the Rue de la Pepiniere. He bought it, andat the same time purchased the adjoining house, which heimmediately caused to be torn down. This operation placed in hispossession a vast piece of ground, not very wide, but of greatdepth, stretching, as it did, back to the Rue Labaume. At oncework was begun according to a plan which his architect and himselfhad spent six months in maturing. On the line of the street arosea house of the most modest appearance, two stories in height only,with a very high and very wide carriage-door for the passage ofvehicles. This was to deceive the vulgar eye, - the outside of thecab, as it were. Behind this house, between a specious court and avast garden was built the residence of which M. Parcimieux haddreamed; and it really was an exceptional building both by theexcellence of the materials used, and by the infinite care whichpresided over the minutest details. The marbles for the vestibuleand the stairs were brought from Africa, Italy, and Corsica. Hesent to Rome for workmen for the mosaics. The joiner andlocksmithing work was intrusted to real artists.
Repeating to every one that he was working for a great foreign lord,whose orders he went to take every morning, he was free to indulgehis most extravagant fancies, without fearing jests or unpleasantremarks.
Poor old man! The day when the last workman had driven in thelast nail, an attack of apoplexy carried him off, without givinghim time to say, "Oh!" Two days after, all his relatives from theLimousin were swooping into Paris like a pack of wolves. Sixmillions to divide: what a godsend! Litigation followed, as amatter of course; and the house was offered for sale under ajudgment.
M. de Thaller bought it for two hundred and seventy-five thousandfrancs, - about one-third what it had cost to build.
A month later he had moved into it; and the expenses which heincurred to furnish it in a style worthy of the building itselfwas the talk of the town. And yet he was not fully satisfiedwith his purchase.
Unlike M. Parcimieux, he had no wish whatever to conceal his wealth.
What! he owned one of those exquisite houses which excite at oncethe wonder and the envy of passers-by, and that house was hidbehind such a common-looking building!
I must have that shanty pulled down, he said from time to time.
And then he thought of something else; and the "shanty" was stillstanding on that evening, when, after leaving Maxence, M. deTraggers presented himself at M. de Thaller's.
The servants had, doubtless, received their instructions; for, assoon as Marius emerged from the porch of the front-house, theporter advanced from his lodge, bent double, his mouth open to hisvery ears by the most obsequious smile.
Without waiting for a question,"The baron has not yet come home -," he said. "But he cannot bemuch longer away; and certainly the baroness is at home for mylord-marquis. Please, then, give yourself the trouble to pass."And, standing aside, he struck upon the enormous gong that stoodnear his lodge a single sharp blow, intended to wake up thefootman on duty in the vestibule, and to announce a visitor ofnote. Slowly, but not without quietly observing every thing, M.
de Traggers crossed the courtyard, covered with fine sand, - theywould have powdered it with golden dust, if they had dared, - andsurrounded on all sides with bronze baskets, in which beautifulrhododendrons were blossoming.
It was nearly six o'clock. The manager of the Mutual Credit dinedat seven; and the preparations for this important event wereeverywhere apparent. Through the large windows of the dining-roomthe steward could be seen presiding over the setting of the table.
The butler was coming up from the cellar, loaded with bottles.
Finally, through the apertures of the basement arose the appetizingperfumes of the kitchen.
What enormous business it required to support such a style, todisplay this luxury, which would shame one of those Germanprincelings, who exchanged the crown of their ancestors for aPrussian livery gilded with French gold! - other people's money.
Meantime, the blow struck by the porter on the gong had producedthe desired effect; and the gates of the vestibule seemed to openof their own accord before M. de Tregars as he ascended the stoop.
This vestibule with the splendor of which Mlle. Lucienne had beenso deeply impressed, would, indeed, have been worthy the attentionof an artist, had it been allowed to retain the simple grandeurand the severe harmony which M. Parcimieux's architect had impartedto it.
But M. de Thaller, as he was proud of boasting, had a perfect horrorof simplicity; and, wherever he discovered a vacant space as big ashis hand, he hung a picture, a bronze, or a piece of china, anything and anyhow.
The two footmen were standing when M. de Tregars came in. Withoutasking any question, "Will M. le Marquis please follow me?" saidthe youngest.
And, opening the broad glass doors1 he began walking in front ofM. de Traggers, along a staircase with marble railing, the elegantproportions of which were absolutely ruined by a ridiculousprofusion of "objects of art" of all nature, and from all sources.
This staircase led to a vast semicircular landing, upon which,between columns of precious marble, opened three wide doors. Thefootman opened the middle one, which led to M. de Thaller'spicture-gallery, a celebrated one in the financial world, andwhich had acquired for him the reputation of an enlightened amateur.
But M. de Traggers had no time to examine this gallery, which,moreover, he already knew well enough. The footman showed himinto the small drawing-room of the baroness, a bijou of a room,furnished in gilt and crimson satin.
Will M. le Marquis be kind enough to take a seat? he said. "Irun to notify Mme. le Baronne of M. le Marquis's visit."The footman uttered these titles of nobility with a singular pomp,and as if some of their lustre was reflected upon himself.
Nevertheless, it was evident that "Marquis" jingled to his ear muchmore pleasantly than "Baronne."Remaining alone, M. de Tregars threw himself upon a seat. Worn outby the emotions of the day, and by an extraordinary contention ofmind, he felt thankful for this moment of respite, which permittedhim, at the moment of a decisive step, to collect all his energyand all his presence of mind.
And after two minutes he was so deeply absorbed in his thoughts,that he started, like a man suddenly aroused from his sleep, atthe sound of an opening door. At the same moment he heard a slightexclamation of surprise, "Ah!
Instead of the Baroness de Thaller, it was her daughter, Mlle.
Cesarine, who had come in.
Stepping forward to the centre of the room, and acknowledging by afamiliar gesture M. de Traggers' most respectful bow,"You should warn people," she said. "I came here to look for mymother, and it is you I find. Why, you scared me to death. Whata crack! Princess dear!"And taking the young man's hand, and pressing it to her breast,"Feel," she added, "how my heart beats."Younger than Mlle. Gilberte, Mlle. Cesarine de Thaller had areputation for beauty so thoroughly established, that to call itin question would have seemed a crime to her numerous admirers.
And really she was a handsome person. Rather tall and well made,she had broad hips, the waist round and supple as a steel rod,and a magnificent throat. Her neck was, perhaps, a little toothick and too short; but upon her robust shoulders was scatteredin wild ringlets the rebellious hair that escaped from her comb.
She was a blonde, but of that reddish blonde, almost as dark asmahogany, which Titian admired, and which the handsome Venetiansobtained by means of rather repulsive practices, and by exposingthemselves to the noonday sun on the terraces of their palaces.
Her complexion had the gilded hues of amber. Her lips, red asblood, displayed as they opened, teeth of dazzling whiteness. Inher large prominent eyes, of a milky blue, like the Northern skies,laughed the eternal irony of a soul that no longer has faith inany thing. More anxious of her fame than of good taste, she worea dress of doubtful shade, puffed up by means of an extravagantpannier, and buttoned obliquely across the chest, according tothat ridiculous and ungraceful style invented by flat or humpedwomen.
Throwing herself upon a chair, and placing cavalierly one footupon another, so as to display her leg, which was admirable,"Do you know that it's perfectly stunning to see you here?" shesaid to M. de Traggers. "Just imagine, for a moment, what a facethe Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight will make when he sees you!"It was her father whom she called thus, since the day when she haddiscovered that there was a German coin called thaler, whichrepresents three francs and sixty-eight centimes in French currency.
You know, I suppose, she went on, "that papa has just been badlystuck?"M. de Traggers was excusing himself in vague terms; but it was oneof Mlle. Cesarine's habits never to listen to the answers whichwere made to her questions.
Favoral, she continued, "papa's cashier, has just started on aninternational picnic. Did you know him?""Very little.""An old fellow, always dressed like a country sexton, and with aface like an undertaker. And the Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight,an old bird, was fool enough to be taken in by him! For he wastaken in. He had a face like a man whose chimney is on fire, whenhe came to tell us, mamma and myself, that Favoral had gone offwith twelve millions.""And has he really carried off that enormous sum?""Not entire, of course, because it was not since day beforeyesterday only that he began digging into the Mutual Credit's pile.
There were years that this venerable old swell was leading asomewhat-variegated existence, in company with rather-funny ladies,you know. And as he was not exactly calculated to be adored at par,why, it cost papa's stockholders a pretty lively premium. But,anyhow, he must have carried off a handsome nugget."And, bouncing to the piano, she began an accompaniment loud enoughto crack the window-panes, singing at the same time the popularrefrain of the "Young Ladies of Pautin:
Cashier, you've got the bag;Quick on your little nag,And then, ho, ho, for Belgium!
Any one but Marius de Tregars would have been doubtless strangelysurprised at Mlle. de Thaller's manners. But he had known her forsome time already: he was familiar with her past life, her habits,her tastes, and her pretensions. Until the age of fifteen, Mlle.
Cesarine had remained shut up in one of those pleasant Parisianboarding-schools, where young ladies are initiated into the greatart of the toilet, and from which they emerge armed with thegayest theories, knowing how to see without seeming to look, andto lie boldly without blushing; in a word, ripe for society. Thedirectress of the boarding-school, a lady of the ton, who had metwith reverses, and who was a good deal more of a dressmaker thana teacher, said of Mlle. Cesarine, who paid her three thousandfive hundred francs a year,"She gives the greatest hopes for the future; and I shall certainlymake a superior woman of her."But the opportunity was not allowed her. The Baroness de Thallerdiscovered, one morning, that it was impossible for her to livewithout her daughter, and that her maternal heart was lacerated bya separation which was against the sacred laws of nature. She tookher home, therefore, declaring that nothing, henceforth, not evenher marriage, should separate them, and that she should finishherself the education of the dear child. From that moment, in fact,whoever saw the Baroness de Thaller would also see Mlle. Cesarinefollowing in her wake.
A girl of fifteen, discreet and well-trained, is a convenientchaperon; a chaperon which enables a woman to show herself boldlywhere she might not have dared to venture alone. In presence ofa mother followed by her daughter, disconcerted slander hesitates,and dares not speak.
Under the pretext that Cesarine was still but a child and of noconsequence, Mme. de Thaller dragged her everywhere, - to the boisand to the races, visiting and shopping, to balls and parties, tothe watering-places and the seashore, to the restaurant, and toall the "first nights" at the Palais Royal, the Bouffes, theVarietes, and the Delassements. It was, therefore, especially atthe theatre, that the education of Mlle. de Thaller, so happilycommenced, had received the finishing touch. At sixteen she wasthoroughly familiar with the repertoire of the genre theatres,imitated Schneider far better than ever did Silly, and sang withsurprising intonations and astonishing gestures Blanche d'Autigny'ssuccessful moods, and Theresa's most wanton verses.
Between times, she studied the fashion papers, and formed herstyle in reading the "Vie Parisienne," whose most enigmatic articleshad no allusions sufficiently obscure to escape her penetration.
She learned to ride on horseback, to fence and to shoot, anddistinguished herself at pigeon-matches. She kept a betting-book,played Trente et Quarante at Monaco; and Baccarat had no secretsfor her. At Trouville she astonished the natives with the startlingnovelty of her bathing-costumes; and, when she found herself thecentre of a reasonable circle of lookers-on, she threw herself inthe water with a pluck that drew upon her the applause of thebathing-masters. She could smoke a cigarette, empty nearly a glassof champagne; and once her mother was obliged to bring her home,and put her quick to bed, because she had insisted upon tryingabsinthe, and her conversation had become somewhat too eccentric.
Leading such a life, it was difficult that public opinion shouldalways spare Mme. and Mlle. de Thaller. There were sceptics whoinsinuated that this steadfast friendship between mother and daughterhad very much the appearance of the association of 'two women boundtogether by the complicity of a common secret. A broker told how,one evening, or one night rather, for it was nearly two o'clock,happening to pass in front of the Moulin-Rouge, he had seen theBaroness and Mlle. Cesarine coming out, accompanied by a gentleman,to him unknown, but who, he was quite sure, was not the Baron deThaller.
A certain journey which mother and daughter had undertaken in theheart of the winter, and which had lasted not less than two months,had been generally attributed to an imprudence, the consequencesof which it had become impossible to conceal, They had been inItaly, they said when they returned; hut no one had seen themthere. Yet, as Mme. and Mlle. de Thaller's mode of life was, afterall, the same as that of a great many women who passed for beingperfectly proper, as there was no positive or palpable fact broughtagainst them, as no name was mentioned, many people shrugged theirshoulders, and replied,"Pure slanders,"And why not, since the Baron de Thaller, the most interested party,held himself satisfied?
To the ill-advised friends who ventured some allusions to the publicrumors, he replied, according to his humor,"My daughter can play the mischief generally, if she sees fit. AsI shall give a dowry of a million, she will always find a husband,"Or else, "And what of it? Do not American young ladies enjoyedunlimited freedom? Are they not constantly seen going out withyoung gentlemen, or walking or traveling alone? Are they, for allthat, less virtuous than our girls, who are kept under such closewatch? Do they make less faithful wives, or less excellent mothers?
Hypocrisy is not virtue."To a certain extent, the Manager of the Mutual Credit was right.
Already Mlle. de Thaller had had to decide upon several quitesuitable offers of marriage she had squarely refused them all.
A husband! she had answered each time. "Thank you, none for me.
I have good enough teeth to eat up my dowry myself. Later, we'llsee,-when I've cut my wisdom teeth, and I am tired of my bachelorlife,"She did not seem near getting tired of it, though she pretendedthat she had no more illusions, was thoroughly blasee, hadexhausted every sensation, and that life henceforth had no surprisein reserve for her. Her reception of M. de Traggers was, therefore,one of Mlle. Cesarine's least eccentricities, as was also thatsudden fancy; to apply to the situation one of the most idioticrondos of her repertoires:
Cashier, you've got the bag;Quick on your little nagNeither did she spare him a single verse: and, when she stopped,I see with pleasure," said M. de Traggers, "that the embezzlementof which your father has just been the victim does not in any wayoffend your good humor."She shrugged her shoulders.
Would you have me cry," she said, "because the stockholders of theBaron Three Francs Sixty-eight have been swindled? Consoleyourself: they are accustomed to it."And, as M. de Traggers made no answer,"And in all that," she went on, " I see no one to pity except thewife and daughter of that old stick Favoral.""They are, indeed, much to he pitied.""They say that the mother is a good old thing.""She is an excellent person.""And the daughter? Costeclar was crazy about her once. He madeeyes like a carp in love, as he told us, to mamma and myself,'She is an angel, mesdames, an angel! And when I have given her alittle chic!' Now tell me, is she really as good looking as allthat?""She is quite good looking.""Better looking than me?""It is not the same style, mademoiselle."Mlle. de Thaller had stopped singing; but she had not left thepiano. Half turned towards M. de Traggers, she ran her fingerslistlessly over the keys, striking a note here and there, as if topunctuate her sentences.
Ah, how nice! she exclaimed, "and, above all, how gallant!
Really, if you venture often on such declarations, mothers would bevery wrong to trust you alone with their daughters.""You did not understand me right, mademoiselle.""Perfectly right, on the contrary. I asked you if I was betterlooking than Mlle. Favoral; and you replied to me, that it was notthe same style.""It is because, mademoiselle, there is indeed no possible comparisonbetween you, who are a wealthy heiress, and whose life is aperpetual enchantment, and a poor girl, very humble, and very modest,who rides in the omnibus, and who makes her dresses herself."A contemptuous smile contracted Mlle. Cesarine's lips.
Why not? she interrupted. "Men have such funny tastes!"And, turning around suddenly, she began another rondo, no lessfamous than the first, and borrowed, this time, from the third actof the Petites-Blanchisseuses:
What matters the quality?
Beauty alone takes the prizeWomen before man must rise,And claim perfect equality."Very attentively M. de Traggers was observing her. He had not beenthe dupe of the great surprise she had manifested when she foundhim in the little parlor.
She knew I was here, he thought; "and it is her mother who hassent her to me. But why? and for what purpose?""With all that," she resumed, "I see the sweet Mme. Favoral and hermodest daughter in a terribly tight place. What a 'bust,' marquis!""They have a great deal of courage, mademoiselle.""Naturally. But, what is better, the daughter has a splendid voice:
at least, so her professor told Costeclar. Why should she not go onthe stage? Actresses make lots of money, you know. Papal helpher, if she wishes. He has a great deal of influence in thetheatres, papa has.""Mme. and Mlle. Favoral have friends.""Ah, yes! Costeclar.""Others besides.""I beg your pardon; but it seems to me that this one will do tobegin with. He is gallant, Costeclar, extremely gallant, and,moreover, generous as a lord. Why should he not offer to thatyouthful and timid damsel a nice little position in mahogany androsewood? That way, we should have the pleasure of meeting heraround the lake."And she began singing again, with a slight variation 'Macon, who,before the war,Carried clothes for a living,Now for her gains is trustingTo that insane Costeclar.""Ah, that big red-headed girl is terribly provoking!" thought M.
de Traggers.
But, as he did not as yet understand very clearly what she wishedto come to, he kept on his guard, and remained cold as marble.
Already she had again turned towards him.
What a face you are making! she said. "Are you jealous of thefiery Costeclar, by chance?""No, mademoiselle, no!""Then, why don't you want him to succeed in his love? But he will,you'll see! Five hundred francs on Costeclar! Do you take it?
No? I am sorry. It's twenty-five napoleons lost for me. I knowvery well that Mlle. - what's her name?""Gilberte.""Hallo! a nice name for a cashier's daughter! I am aware that sheonce sent that poor Costeclar and his offer to - Called. But shehad resources then; whilst now - It's stupid as it can be; butpeople have to eat!""There are still women, mademoiselle, capable of starving to death."M. de Traggers now felt satisfied. It seemed evident to him thatthey had somehow got wind of his intentions; that Mlle. de Thallerhad been sent to feel the ground; and that she only attacked Mlle.
Gilberte in order to irritate him, and compel him, in a moment ofanger, to declare himself.
Bash! she said, "Mlle. Favoral is like all the others. If shehad to select between the amiable Costeclar and a charcoal furnace,it is not the furnace she would take."At all times, Marius de Tregars disliked Mlle. Cesarine to a supremedegree; but at this moment, without the pressing desire he had tosee the Baron and Baroness de Thaller, he would have withdrawn.
Believe me, mademoiselle, he uttered coldly. "Spare a poor girlstricken by a most cruel misfortune. Worse might happen to you.""To me! And what the mischief do you suppose can happen me?""Who knows?"She started to her feet so violently, that she upset the piano-stool.
Whatever It may be, she exclaimed, "I say in advance, I am glad!"And as M. de Traggers turned his head in some surprise,"Yes, I am glad!" she repeated, "because it would be a change; andI am sick of the life I lead. Yes, sick to be eternally andinvariably happy of that same dreary happiness. And to think thatthere are idiots who believe that I amuse myself, and who envy myfate! To think, that, when I ride through the streets, I hear girlsexclaim, whilst looking at me, 'Isn't she lucky?' Little fools!
I'd like to see them in my place. They live, they do. Theirpleasures are not all alike. They have anxieties and hopes, upsand downs, hours of rain and hours of sunshine; whilst I - alwaysdead calm! the barometer always at 'Set fair.' What a bore! Doyou know what I did to-day? Exactly the same thing as yesterday;and to-morrow I'll do the same thing as to-day.
"A good dinner is a good thing; but always the same dinner, withoutextras or additions - pouah! Too many truffles. I want somecorned beef and cabbage. I know the bill of fare by heart, you see. In winter, theatres and balls; in summer, races and the seashore;summer and winter, shopping, rides to the bois, calls, tryingdresses, perpetual adoration by mother's friends, all of thembrilliant and gallant fellows to whom the mere thought of my dowrygives the jaundice. Excuse me, if I yawn: I am thinking of theirconversations. And to think,"" she went on, ""that such will be my existence untilI make up my mind to take a husband! For I'll have to come to ittoo. The Baron Three Sixty-eight will present to me some sort ofa swell, attracted by my money. I'll answer, 'I'd just as soonhave him as any other; and he will be admitted to the honor ofpaying his attentions to me. Every morning he will send me asplendid bouquet: every evening, after bank-hours, he'll come alongwith fresh kid gloves and a white vest. During the afternoon, heand papa will pull each other's hair out on the subject of the dowry.
"At last the happy day will arrive. Can't you see it from here?
Mass with music, dinner, ball. The Baron Three Sixty-eight willnot spare me a single ceremony. The marriage of the manager of theMutual Credit must certainly be an advertisement. The papers willpublish the names of the bridesmaids and of the guests.
To be sure, papa will have a face a yard long; because he willhave been compelled to pay the dowry the day before. Mamma willbe all upset at the idea of becoming a grandmother. Thebridegroom will be in a wretched humor, because his boots will betoo tight; and I'll look like a goose, because I'll be dressedin white; and white is a stupid color, which is not at all becomingto me. Charming family gathering, isn't it? Two weeks later, myhusband will be sick of me, and I'll be disgusted with him. Aftera month, we'll be at daggers' points. He'll go back to his cluband his mistresses; and I - I shall have conquered the right to goout alone; and I'll begin again going to the bois, to balls, toraces, wherever my mother goes. I'll spend an enormous amount ofmoney on my dress, and I'll make debts which papa will pay.Though any thing might be expected of Mlle. Cesarine, still M.
de Traggers seemed visibly astonished. And she, laughing at hissurprise,"That's the invariable programme," she went on; "and that's why Isay I'm glad at the idea of a change, whatever it may be. You findfault with me for not pitying Mlle. Gilberte. How could I, sinceI envy her? She is happy, because her future is not settled, laidout, fixed in advance. She is poor; but she is free. She is twenty;she is pretty; she has an admirable voice; she can go on the stageto-morrow, and be, before six months, one of the pet actresses ofParis. What a life then! Ah, that is the one I dream, the one Iwould have selected, had I been mistress of my destiny."But she was interrupted by the noise of the opening door.
The Baroness de Thaller appeared. As she was, immediately afterdinner, to go to the opera, and afterwards to a party given by theViscountess de Bois d'Ardon, she was in full dress. She wore adress, cut audaciously low in the neck, of very light gray satin,trimmed with bands of cherry-colored silk edged with lace. In herhair, worn high over her head, she had a bunch of fuchsias, theflexible stems of which, fastened by a large diamond star, traileddown to her very shoulders, white and smooth as marble.
But, though she forced herself to smile, her countenance was notthat of festive days; and the glance which she cast upon herdaughter and Marius de Tregars was laden with threats. In a voiceof which she tried in vain to control the emotion,"How very kind of you, marquis," she began, "to respond so soon tomy invitation of this morning! I am really distressed to have keptyou waiting; but I was dressing. After what has happened to M. deThaller, it is absolutely indispensable that I should go out, showmyself: otherwise our enemies will be going around to-morrow, sayingeverywhere that I am in Belgium, preparing lodgings for my husband."And, suddenly changing her tone,"But what was that madcap Cesarine telling you?" she asked.
It was with a profound, surprise that M. de Traggers discovered thatthe entente cordiale which he suspected between the mother anddaughter did not exist, at least at this moment.
Veiling under a jesting tone the strange conjectures which theunexpected discovery aroused within him,"Mlle. Cesarine," he replied, "who is much to be pitied, was tellingme all her troubles."She interrupted him.
Do not take the trouble to tell a story, M. le Marquis, she said.
Mamma knows it as well as yourself; for she was listening at the door."Cesarine! exclaimed Mme. de Thaller.
And, if she came in so suddenly, it is because she thought it wasfully time to cut short my confidences.The face of the baroness became crimson.
The child is mad! she said.
The child burst out laughing.
That's my way," she went on. "You should not have sent me here bychance, and against my wish. You made me do it: don't complain.
You were sure that I had but to appear, and M. de Traggers wouldfall at my feet. I appeared, and - you saw the effect through thekeyhole, didn't you?"Her features contracted, her eyes flashing, twisting her lacehandkerchief between her fingers loaded with rings,"It is unheard of," said Mme. de Thaller. "She has certainly losther head."Dropping her mother an ironical courtesy,"Thanks for the compliment!" said the young lady. "Unfortunately,I never was more completely in possession of all the good sense Imay boast of than I am now, dear mamma. What were you telling mea moment since? 'Run, the Marquis de Tregars is coming to askyour hand: it's all settled.' And what did I answer? 'No use totrouble myself: if, instead of one million, papa were to give metwo, four millions, indeed all the millions paid by France toPrussia, M. de Traggers would not have me for a wife.'"And, looking Marius straight in the face,"Am I not right, M. le Marquis?" she asked. "And isn't it a factthat you wouldn't have me at any price? Come, now, your hand uponyour heart, answer."M. de Tregars' situation was somewhat embarrassing between thesetwo women, whose anger was equal, though it manifested itself ina different way. Evidently it was a discussion begun before, whichwas now continued in his presence.
I think, mademoiselle, he began, "that you have been slanderingyourself gratuitously.""Oh, no! I swear it to you," she replied; "and, if mamma had nothappened in, you would have heard much more. But that was not ananswer."And, as M. de Traggers said nothing, she turned towards the baroness,"Ah, ah! you see," she said. "Who was crazy, - you, or I? Ah!
you imagine here that money is everything, that every thing is forsale, and that every thing can be bought. Well, no! There arestill men, who, for all the gold in the world, would not give theirname to Cesarine de Thaller. It is strange; but it is so, dearmamma, and we must make up our mind to it."Then turning towards Marius, and bearing upon each syllable, as ifafraid that the allusion might escape him,"The men of whom I speak," she added, "marry the girls who canstarve to death."Knowing her daughter well enough to be aware that she could notimpose silence upon her, the Baroness de Thaller had dropped upona chair. She was trying hard to appear indifferent to what herdaughter was saying; but at every moment a threatening gesture, ora hoarse exclamation, betrayed the storm that raged within her.
Go, on, poor foolish child! she said, - "go on!"And she did go on.
Finally, were M. de Traggers willing to have me, I would refusehim myself, because, thenA fugitive blush colored her cheeks, her bold eyes vacillated, and,dropping her voice,"Because, then," she added, "he would no longer be what he is;because I feel that fatally I shall despise the husband whom papawill buy for me. And, if I came here to expose myself to an affrontwhich I foresaw, it is because I wanted to make sure of a fact ofwhich a word of Costeclar, a few days ago, had given me an idea,- of a fact which you do not, perhaps, suspect, dear mother, despiteyour astonishing perspicacity. I wanted to find out M. de Traggers'
secret; and I have found it out."M. de Tregars had come to the Thaller mansion with a plan wellsettled in advance. He had pondered long before deciding what hewould do, and what he would say, and how he would begin the decisivestruggle. What had taken place showed him the idleness of hisconjectures, and, as a natural consequence, upset his plans. Toabandon himself to the chances of the hour, and to make the bestpossible use of them, was now the wisest thing to do.
Give me credit, mademoiselle," he uttered, "for sufficientpenetration to have perfectly well discerned your intentions.
There was no need of artifice, because I have nothing to conceal.
You had but to question me, I would have answered you frankly,'Yes, it is true I love Mlle. Gilberte; and before a month shewill be Marquise de Tregars.'"Mme. de Thaller, at those words, had started to her feet, pushingback her arm-chair so violently, that it rolled all the way to thewall.
What! she exclaimed, "you marry Gilberte Favoral, - you!""I - yes.""The daughter of a defaulting cashier, a dishonored man whom justicepursues and the galleys await!""Yes!" And in an accent that caused a shiver to run over the whiteshoulders of Mme. de Thaller,"Whatever may have been," he uttered, "Vincent Favoral's crime;whether he has or has not stolen, the twelve millions which arewanting from the funds of the Mutual Credit; whether he is aloneguilty, or has accomplices; whether he be a knave, or a fool, animpostor, or a dupe, - Mlle. Gilberte is not responsible.""You know the Favoral family, then?""Enough to make their cause henceforth my own.
The agitation of the baroness was so great, that she did not evenattempt to conceal it.
A nobody's daughter! she said.
"I love her.""Without a sou! Mlle. Cesarine made a superb gesture. Why, that's the very reason why a man may marry her! she exclaimed,and, holding out her hand to M. de Traggers,What you do here is well,"" she added, ""very well.""There was a wild look in the eyes of the baroness.
"Mad, unhappy child! she exclaimed. "If your father should hear!"And who, then, would report our conversation to him? M. de Traggers?
He would not do such a thing. You? You dare not."Drawing herself up to her fullest height, her breast swelling withanger, her head thrown back, her eyes flashing,Cesarine," ordered Mme. de Thaller, her arm extended towards thedoor - "Cesarine, leave the room; I command you."But motionless in her place the girl cast upon her mother a lookof defiance.
Come, calm yourself, she said in a tone of crushing irony, "oryou'll spoil your complexion for the rest of the evening. Do Icomplain? do I get excited? And yet whose fault is it, if honormakes it a duty for me to cry 'Beware!' to an honest man who wishesto marry me? That Gilberte should get married : that she shouldbe very happy, have many children, darn her husband's stockings,and skim her Pot-au-fue, - that is her part in life. Ours, dearmother, - that which you have taught me - is to laugh and have fun,all the time, night and day, till death."A footman who came in interrupted her. Handing a card to Mme. deThaller,"The gentleman who gave it to me," he said, "is in the large parlor."The baroness had become very pale.
Oh! she said turning the card between her fingers, - "oh!"Then suddenly she ran out exclaiming,"I'll be back directly."An embarrassing, painful silence followed, as it was inevitable thatit would, the Baroness de Thaller's precipitate departure.
Mlle. Cesarine had approached the mantel-piece. She was leaningher elbow upon it, her forehead on her hand, all palpitating andexcited. Intimidated for, perhaps, the first time in her life,she turned away her great blue eyes, as if afraid that they shouldbetray a reflex of her thoughts.
As to M. de Tregars, he remained at his place, not having one whittoo much of that power of self-control, which is acquired by a longexperience of the world, to conceal his impressions. If he had afault, it was certainly not self-conceit; but Mlle. de Thaller hadbeen too explicit and too clear to leave him a doubt. All shebad said could be comprised in one sentence,"My parents were in hopes that I would become your wife: I hadjudged you well enough to understand their error. Precise becauseI love you I acknowledge myself unworthy of you and I wish you toknow that if you had asked my hand, - the hand of a girl who hasa dowry of a million - I would have ceased to esteem you.
That such a feeling should have budded and blossomed in Mlle.
Cesarine's soul, withered as it was by vanity, and blunted bypleasure was almost a miracle. It was, at any rate, an astonishingproof of love which she gave; and Marius de Tregars would not havebeen a man, if he had not been deeply moved by it. Suddenly,"What a miserable wretch I am!" she uttered.
You mean unhappy, said M. de Tr6gars gently.
What can you think of my sincerity? You must, doubtless, find itstrange, impudent, grotesque.He lifted his hand in protest; for she gave him no time to put ina word.
And yet," she went on, this is not the first time that I am assailedby sinister ideas, and that I feel ashamed of myself. I wasconvinced once that this mad existence of mine is the only enviableone, the only one that can give happiness. And now I discover thatit is not the right path which I have taken, or, rather, whichI have been made to take. And there is no possibility of retracingmy steps."She turned pale, and, in an accent of gloomy despair,Every thing fails me," she said. "It seems as though I were rollinginto a bottomless abyss, without a branch or a tuft of grass tocling to. Around me, emptiness, night, chaos. I am not yet twentyand it seems to me that I have lived thousands of years, andexhausted every sensation. I have seen every thing, learned everything, experienced every thing; and I am tired of every thing, andsatiated and nauseated. You see me looking like a brainless hoyden,I sing, I jest, I talk slang. My gayety surprises everybody. Inreality, I am literally tired to death. What I feel I could notexpress there are no words to render absolute disgust. Sometimes Isay to myself, 'It is stupid to be so sad. What do you need? Areyou not young, handsome, rich? But I must need something, or elseI would not be thus agitated, nervous, anxious, unable to stay inone place, tormented by confused aspirations, and by desires whichI cannot formulate. What can I do? Seek oblivion in pleasure anddissipation? I try, and I succeed for an hour or so; but thereaction comes, and the effect vanishes, like froth from champagne.
The lassitude returns; and, whilst outwardly I continue to laugh,I shed within tears of blood which scald my heart. What is tobecome of me, without a memory in the past, or a hope in the future,upon which to rest my thought?"And bursting into tears,"Oh, I am wretchedly unhappy!" she exclaimed; "and I wish I wasdead."M. de Tregars rose, feeling more deeply moved than he would, perhaps,have liked to acknowledge.
I was laughing at you only a moment since, he said in his graveand vibrating voice, Pardon me, mademoiselle, It is with the utmostsincerity, and from the innermost depths of my soul, that I pityyou."She was looking at him with an air of timid doubt, big tearstrembling between her long eyelashes.
Honest? she asked.
Upon my honor."And you will not go with too poor an opinion of me?"I shall retain the firm belief that when you were yet but a child,you were spoiled by insane theories.Gently and sadly she was passing her hand over her forehead.
Yes, that's it, she murmured. "How could I resist examples comingfrom certain persons? How could I help becoming intoxicated whenI saw myself, as it were, in a cloud of incense when I heard nothingbut praises and applause? And then there is the money, whichdepraves when it comes in a certain way."She ceased to speak; but the silence was soon again broken by aslight noise, which came from the adjoining room.
Mechanically, M. de Traggers looked around him. The little parlorin which he found himself was divided from the main drawing-roomof the house by a tall and broad door, closed only by heavy curtains,which had remained partially drawn. Now, such was the dispositionof the mirrors in the two rooms, that M. de Traggers could seealmost the whole of the large one reflected in the mirror over themantelpiece of the little parlor. A man of suspicious appearance,and wearing wretched clothes, was standing in it.
And, the more M. de Traggers examined him, the more it seemed tohim that he had already seen somewhere that uneasy countenance,that anxious glance, that wicked smile flitting upon flat and thinlips.
But suddenly the man bowed very low. It was probable that Mme. deThaller, who had gone around through the hall to reach the grandparlor, must be coming in; and in fact she almost immediatelyappeared within the range of the glass. She seemed much agitated;and, with a finger upon her lips, she was recommending to the manto be prudent, and to speak low. It was therefore in a whisper,and such a low whisper that not even a vague murmur reached thelittle par1or that the man uttered a few words. They were suchthat the baroness started back as if she had seen a precipice yawningat her feet; and by this action it was easy to understand that shemust have said,"Is it possible?"With the voice which still could not be heard, but with a gesturewhich could be seen, the man evidently replied,"It is so, I assure you!"And leaning towards Mme. de Thaller, who seemed in no wise shockedto feel this repulsive personage's lips almost touching her ear,he began speaking to her.
The surprise which this species of vision caused to M. de Tregarswas great, but did not keep him from reflecting what could be themeaning of this scene. How came this suspicious-looking man tohave obtained access, without difficulty, into the grand parlor?
Why had the baroness, on receiving his card, turned whiter than thelaces on her dress? What news had he brought, which had made sucha deep impression? What was he saying that seemed at once toterrify and to delight Mme. de Thaller?
But soon she interrupted the man, beckoned to him to wait,disappeared for a minute; and, when she came in again, she held inher hand a package of bank-notes, which she began counting uponthe parlor-table.
She counted twenty-five, which, so far as M. de Tregars could judge,must have been hundred-franc notes. The man took them counted themover, slipped them into his pocket with a grin of satisfaction, andthen seemed disposed to retire.
The baroness detained him, however; and it was she now, who, leaningtowards him, commenced to explain to him, or rather, as far as herattitude showed, to ask him something. It must have been a seriousmatter; for he shook his head, and moved his arms, as if he meantto say, "The deuse, the deuse!"The strangest suspicions flashed across M. de Tregars' mind. Whatwas that bargain to which the mirror made him thus an accidentalwitness? For it was a bargain: there could be no mistake about it.
The man, having received a mission, had fulfilled it, and had cometo receive the price of it. And now a new commission was offeredto him.
But M. de Traggers' attention was now called off by Mlle. Cesarine.
Shaking off the torpor which for a moment had overpowered her,"But why fret and worry?" she said, answering, rather, the objectionsof her own mind than addressing herself to M. de Traggers. "Thingsare just as they are, and I cannot undo them.
"Ah! if the mistakes of life were like soiled clothes, which areallowed to accumulate in a wardrobe, and which are all sent out atonce to the wash. But nothing washes the past, not even repentance,whatever they may say. There are some ideas which should be setaside. A prisoner should not allow himself to think of freedom. And yet,"" she added, shrugging her shoulders, ""a prisoner hasalways the hope of escaping; whereas I"" - Then, making a visibleeffort to resume her usual manner,Bash!"" she said, ""that's enough sentiment for one day; and insteadof staying here, boring you to death, I ought to go and dress; forI am going to the opera with my sweet mamma, and afterwards to theball. You ought to come. I am going to wear a stunning dress.
"The ball is at Mme. de Bois d'Ardon's, - one of our friends, aprogressive woman. She has a smoking-room for ladies. What doyou think of that? Come, will you go? We'll drink champagne,and we'll laugh. No? Zut then, and my compliments to your family."But, at the moment of leaving the room, her heart failed her.
This is doubtless the last time I shall ever see you, M. deTraggers, she said. "Farewell! You know now why I, who have adowry of a million, I envy Gilberte Favoral. Once more farewell.
And, whatever happiness may fall to your lot in life, rememberthat Cesarine has wished it all to you.".
And she went out at the very moment when the Baroness de Thallerreturned.
Cesarine! Mme. de Thaller called, in a voice which sounded atonce like a prayer and a threat.
I am going to dress myself, mamma, she answered.
"Come back!""So that you can scold me if I am not ready when you want to go? Thank you, no.""I command you to come back, Cesarine.No answer. She was far already.
"Mme. de Thaller closed the door of the little parlor, and returningto take a seat by M. de Traggers,"What a singular girl!" she said.
Meantime he was watching in the glass what was going on in theother room. The suspicious-looking man was there still, and alone.
A servant had brought him pen, ink and paper; and he was writingrapidly.
How is it that they leave him there alone? wondered Marius.
And he endeavored to find upon the features of the baroness ananswer to the confused presentiments which agitated his brain. Butthere was no longer any trace of the emotion which she had manifestedwhen taken unawares. Having had time for reflection, she hadcomposed for herself an impenetrable countenance. Somewhat surprisedat M. de Traggers silence,"I was saying," she repeated, "that Cesarine is a strange girl."Still absorbed by the scene in the grand parlor,"Strange, indeed!" he answered.
And such is, said the baroness with a sigh, "the result of M. deThaller's weakness, and above all of my own.""We have no child but Cesarine; and it was natural that we shouldspoil her. Her fancy has been, and is still, our only law. Shehas never had time to express a wish: she is obeyed before she hasspoken."She sighed again, and deeper than the first time. "You have justseen," she went on, "the results of that insane education. And yetit would not do to trust appearances. Cesarine, believe me, is notas extravagant as she seems. She possesses solid qualities, - ofthose which a man expects of the woman who is to be his wife."Without taking his eyes off the glass,"I believe you madame," said M. de Traggers.
With her father, with me especially, she is capricious, wilful,and violent; but, in the hands of the husband of her choice, shewould be like wax in the hands of the modeler.The man in the parlor had finished his letter, and, with anequivocal smile, was reading it over.
Believe me, madame, replied M. de Traggers, "I have perfectlyunderstood how much naive boasting there was in all that Mlle.
Cesarine told me.""Then, really, you do not judge her too severely?""Your heart has not more indulgence for her than my own.""And yet it is from you that her first real sorrow comes.""From me?"The baroness shook her head in a melancholy way, to convey an ideaof her maternal affection and anxiety.
Yes, from you, my dear marquis, she replied, "from you alone.
On the very day you entered this house, Cesarine's whole naturechanged."Having read his letter over, the man in the grand parlor had foldedit, and slipped it into his pocket, and, having left his seat,seemed to be waiting for something. M. de Traggers was following,in the glass, his every motion, with the most eager curiosity. Andnevertheless, as he felt the absolute necessity of saying something,were it only to avoid attracting the attention of the baroness,"What!" he said, "Mlle. Cesarine's nature did change, then?""In one night. Had she not met the hero of whom every girl dreams?
- a man of thirty, bearing one of the oldest names in France."She stopped, expecting an answer, a word, an exclamation. But, asM. de Traggers said nothing,"Did you never notice any thing then?" she asked.
"Nothing.""And suppose I were to tell you myself, that my poor Cesarine, alas! - loves you?M. de Traggers started. Had he been less occupied with the personagein the grand parlor, he would certainly not have allowed theconversation to drift in this channel. He understood his mistake;and, in an icy tone,""Permit me, madame,"" he said, ""to believe that you are jesting.""""And suppose it were the truth.""""It would make me unhappy in the extreme.""""Sir!""""For the reason which I have already told you, that I love Mlle.
"Gilberte Favoral with the deepest and the purest love, and thatfor the past three years she has been, before God, my affiancedbride."Something like a flash of anger passed over Mme. de Thaller's eyes.
And I, she exclaimed, - "I tell you that this marriage is senseless.""I wish it were still more so, that I might the better show toGilberte how dear she is to me."Calm in appearance, the baroness was scratching with her nails thesatin of the chair on which she was sitting.
Then, she went on, "your resolution is settled.""Irrevocably.""Still, now, come, between us who are no longer children, supposeM. de Thaller were to double Cesarine's dowry, to treble it?"An expression of intense disgust contracted the manly features ofMarius de Tregars.
Ah! not another word, madame, he interrupted.
There was no hope left. Mme. de Thaller fully realized it by thetone in which he spoke. She remained pensive for over a minute,and suddenly, like a person who has finally made up her mind, sherang.
A footman appeared.
Do what I told you! she ordered.
And as soon as the footman had gone, turning to M. de Tregars,"Alas!" she said, "who would have thought that I would curse the daywhen you first entered our house?"But, whilst, she spoke, M. de Traggers noticed in the glass theresult of the order she had just given.
The footman walked into the grand parlor, spoke a few words; and atonce the man with the alarming countenance put on his hat and wentout.
This is very strange! thought M. de Traggers. Meantime, thebaroness was going on,"If your intentions are to that point irrevocable, how is it thatyou are here? You have too much experience of the world not tohave understood, this morning, the object of my visit and of myallusions."Fortunately, M. de Traggers' attention was no longer drawn by theproceedings in the next room. The decisive moment had come: thesuccess of the game he was playing would, perhaps, depend uponhis coolness and self-command.
It is because I did understand, madame, and even better than yousuppose, that I am here."Indeed!"I came, expecting to deal with M. de Thaller alone. I have beencompelled, by what has happened, to alter my intentions. It isto you that I must speak first.Mme. de Thaller continued to manifest the same tranquil assurance;but she stood up. Feeling the approach of the storm, she wishedto be up, and ready to meet it.
You honor me, she said with an ironical smile.
There was, henceforth, no human power capable of turning Marius deTregars from the object he had in view.
It is to you I shall speak, he repeated, "because, after you haveheard me, you may perhaps judge that it is your interest to join mein endeavoring to obtain from your husband what I ask, what Idemand, what I must have."With an air of surprise marvelously well simulated, if it was notreal, the baroness was looking at him.
My father, he proceeded to say, "the Marquis de Tregars, was oncerich: he had several millions. And yet when I had the misfortuneof losing him, three years ago, he was so thoroughly ruined, thatto relieve the scruples of his honor, and to make his death easier,I gave up to his creditors all I had in the world. What had becomeof my father's fortune? What filter had been administered to himto induce him to launch into hazardous speculations, - he an oldBreton gentleman, full, even to absurdity, of the most obstinateprejudices of the nobility? That's what I wished to ascertain.""And now, madame, I - have ascertained."She was a strong-minded woman, the Baroness de Thaller. She hadhad so many adventures in her life, she had walked on the very edgeof so many precipices, concealed so many anxieties, that danger was,as it were, her element, and that, at the decisive moment of analmost desperate game, she could remain smiling like those oldgamblers whose face never betrays their terrible emotion at themoment when they risk their last stake. Not a muscle of her facemoved; and it was with the most imperturbable calm that she said,"Go on, I am listening: it must be quite interesting."That was not the way to propitiate M. de Traggers.
He resumed, in a brief and harsh tone,"When my father died, I was young. I did not know then what I havelearned since, - that to contribute to insure the impunity of knavesis almost to make one's self their accomplice. And the victim whosays nothing and submits, does contribute to it. The honest man,on the contrary, should speak, and point out to others the trapinto which he has fallen, that they may avoid it."The baroness was listening with the air of a person who is compelledby politeness to hear a tiresome story.
That is a rather gloomy preamble, she said. M. de Tregars tookno notice of the interruption.
At all times, he went on, "my father seemed careless of hisaffairs: that affectation, he thought, was due to the name he bore.
But his negligence was only apparent. I might mention things ofhim that would do honor to the most methodical tradesman. He had,for instance, the habit of preserving all the letters of anyimportance which he received. He left twelve or fifteen boxes fullof such. They were carefully classified; and many bore upon theirmargin a few notes indicating what answer had been made to them."Half suppressing a yawn,"That is order," said the baroness, "if I know any thing about it.""At the first moment, determined not to stir up the past, Iattached no importance to those letters; and they would certainlyhave been burnt, but for an old friend of the family, the Count deVillegre, who had them carried to his own house. But later, actingunder the influence of circumstances which it would be too long toexplain to you, I regretted my apathy; and I thought that I should,perhaps, find in that correspondence something to either dissipateor justify certain suspicions which had occurred to me.""So that, like a respectful son, you read it?" M. de Tregars bowedceremoniously.
I believe, he said, "that to avenge a father of the imposture ofwhich he was the victim during his life, is to render homage to hismemory. Yes, madame, I read the whole of that correspondence, andwith an interest which you will readily understand. I had already,and without result, examined the contents of several boxes, when inthe package marked 1852, a year which my father spent in Paris,certain letters attracted my attention. They were written uponcoarse paper, in a very primitive handwriting and wretchedly spelt.
They were signed sometimes Phrasie, sometimes Marquise de Javelle.
Some gave the address, 'Rue des Bergers, No. 3, Paris-Grenelle.'
Those letters left me no doubt upon what had taken place. Myfather had met a young working-girl of rare beauty: he had taken afancy to her; and, as he was tormented by the fear of being lovedfor his money alone, he had passed himself off for a poor clerk inone of the departments."Quite a touching little love-romance, remarked the baroness.
But there was no impertinence that could affect Marius de Tregars'
coolness.
A romance, perhaps, he said, "but in that case a money-romance,not a love-romance. This Phrasie or Marquise de Javelle, announcesin one of her letters, that in February, 1853, she has given birthto a daughter, whom she has confided to some relatives of hers inthe south, near Toulouse. It was doubtless that event whichinduced my father to acknowledge who he was. He confesses thathe is not a poor clerk, but the Marquis de Tregars, having anincome of over a hundred thousand francs. At once the tone ofthe correspondence changes. The Marquise de Javelle has a stupidtime where she lives; the neighbors reproach her with her fault;work spoils her pretty hands. Result: less than two weeks afterthe birth of her daughter, my father hires for his pretty mistressa lovely apartment, which she occupies under the name of Mme. Devil;she is allowed fifteen hundred francs a month, servants, horses,carriage."Mme. de Thaller was giving signs of the utmost impatience. Withoutpaying any attention to them, M. de Tregars proceeded,"Henceforth free to see each other daily, my father and his mistresscease to write. But Mme. Devil does not waste her time. During aspace of less than eight months, from February to September, sheinduces my father to dispose - not in her favor, she is toodisinterested for that, but in favor of her daughter - of a sumexceeding five hundred thousand francs. In September, thecorrespondence is resumed. Mme. Devil discovers that she is nothappy, and acknowledges it in a letter, which shows, by its improvedwriting and more correct spelling, that she has been taking lessons.
"She complains of her precarious situation: the future frightens her: she longs for respectability. Such is, for three months, theconstant burden of her correspondence. She regrets the time whenshe was a working girl: why has she been so weak? Then, at last,in a note which betrays long debates and stormy discussions, sheannounces that she has an unexpected offer of marriage; a finefellow, who,, if she only had two hundred thousand francs, wouldgive his name to herself and to her darling little daughter. Fora long time my father hesitates; but she presses her point withsuch rare skill, she demonstrates so conclusively that this marriagewill insure the happiness of their child, that my father yields atlast, and resigns himself to the sacrifice. And in a memorandumon the margin of a last letter, he states that he has just giventwo hundred thousand francs to Mme. Devil; that he will never seeher again; and that he returns to live in Brittany, where he wishes,by the most rigid economy, to repair the breach he has just madein his fortune.""Thus end all these love-stories, said Mme. de Thaller in ajesting tone.
" "I beg your pardon: this one is not ended yet. For many years, myfather kept his word, and never left our homestead of Tregars. Butat last he grew tired of his solitude, and returned to Paris. Didhe seek to see his former mistress again? I think not. I supposethat chance brought them together; or else, that, being aware of hisreturn, she managed to put herself in his way. He found her morefascinating, than ever, and, according to what she wrote him, richand respected; for her husband had become a personage. She wouldhave been perfectly happy, she added, had it been possible for herto forget the man whom she had once loved so much, and to whom sheowed her position. I have that letter. The elegant hand, the style, and the correctorthography, express better than any thing else the transformationsof the Marquise de Javelle. Only it is not signed. The littleworking-girl has become prudent: she has much to lose, and fears tocompromise herself.
" "A week later, in a laconic note, apparently dictated by anirresistible passion, she begs my father to come to see her at herown house. He does so, and finds there a little girl, whom hebelieves to be his own child, and whom he at once begins to idolize. And that's all. Again he falls under the charm. He ceases tobelong to himself: his former mistress can dispose, at her pleasure,of his fortune and of his fate.
" "But see now what bad luck! The husband takes a notion to becomejealous of my father's visits. In a letter which is a masterpieceof diplomacy, the lady explains her anxiety. 'He has suspicions,' she writes; 'and to what extremities might henot resort, were he to discover the truth!' And with infinite artshe insinuates that the best way to justify his constant presenceis to associate himself with that jealous husband.
" "It is with childish haste that my father jumps at the suggestion. But money is needed. He sells his lands, and everywhere announcesthat he has great financial ideas, and that he is going to increasehis fortune tenfold. There he is now, partner of his former mistress's husband, engagedin speculations, director of a company. He thinks that he is doingan excellent business: he is convinced that he is making lots ofmoney. Poor honest man! They prove to him, one morning, that heis ruined, and, what is more, compromised. And this is made tolook so much like the truth, that I interfere myself, and pay thecreditors. We were ruined; but honor was safe. A few weeks later,my father died broken-hearted.""Mme. de Thaller half rose from her seat with a gesture whichindicated the joy of escaping at last a merciless bore. A glancefrom M. de Traggers riveted her to her seat, freezing upon her lipsthe jest she was about to utter.
"I have not done yet, he said rudely.
And, without suffering .any interruption,"From this correspondence," he resumed, "resulted the flagrant,irrefutable proof of a shameful intrigue, long since suspected bymy old friend, General Count de Villegre, it became evident to methat my poor father had been most shamefully imposed upon by thatmistress, so handsome and so dearly loved, and, later, despoiledby the husband of that mistress. But all this availed me nothing.
Being ignorant of my father's life and connections, the lettersgiving neither a name nor a precise detail, I knew not whom toaccuse. Besides, in order to accuse, it is necessary to have, atleast, some material proof."The baroness had resumed her seat; and every thing about her - herattitude, her gestures, the motion of her lips-seemed to say,"You are my guest. Civility has its demands; but really you abuseyour privileges."M. de Traggers went on,"At this moment I was still a sort of savage, wholly absorbed inmy experiments, and scarcely ever setting foot outside mylaboratory. I was indignant; I ardently wished to find and topunish the villains who had robbed us: but I knew not how to goabout it, nor in what direction to seek information. The wretcheswould, perhaps, have gone unpunished, but for a good and worthy man,now a commissary of police, to whom I once rendered a slight service,one night, in a riot, when he was close pressed by some half-dozenrascals. I explained the situation to him: he took much interestin it, promised his assistance, and marked out my line of conduct."Mme. de Thaller seemed restless upon her seat.
I must confess, she began, "that I am not wholly mistress of mytime. I am dressed, as you see: I have to go out."If she had preserved any hope of adjourning the explanation whichshe felt coming, she must have lost it when she heard the tone inwhich M. de Tregars interrupted her.
You can go out to-morrow.And, without hurrying,"Advised, as I have just told you," he continued, "and assisted bythe experience of a professional man, I went first to No. 3, Ruedes Bergers, in Grenelle. I found there some old people, theforeman of a neighboring factory and his wife, who had been livingin the house for nearly twenty-five years. At my first question,they exchanged a glance, and commenced laughing. They rememberedperfectly the Marquise de Javelle, which was but a nickname for ayoung and pretty laundress, whose real name was Euphrasie Taponnet.
She had lived for eighteen months on the same landing as themselves:
she had a lover, who passed himself off for a clerk, but who was,in fact, she had told them, a very wealthy nobleman. They addedthat she had given birth to a little girl, and that, two weeks latershe had disappeared, and they had never heard a word from her. WhenI left them, they said to me, 'If you see Phrasie, ask her if sheever knew old Chandour and his wife. I am sure she'll remember us.'"For the first time Mme. de Thaller shuddered slightly; but it wasalmost imperceptible.
From Grenelle, continued M. de Traggers, "I went to the housewhere my father's mistress had lived under the name of Mme. Devil.
I was in luck. I found there the same concierge as in 1853. Assoon as I mentioned Mme. Devil, she answered me that she had not inthe least forgotten her, but, on the contrary, would know her amonga thousand. She was, she said, one of the prettiest little womenshe had ever seen, and the most generous tenant. I understood thehint, handed her a couple of napoleons, and heard from her everything she knew on the subject. It seemed that this pretty Mme.
Devil had, not one lover, but two, - the acknowledged one, who wasthe master, and footed the bills; and the other an anonymous one,who went out through the back-stairs, and who did not pay, on thecontrary. The first was called the Marquis de Tregars: of thesecond, she had never known but the first name, Frederic. Itried to ascertain what had become of Mme. Devil; but the worthyconcierge swore to me that she did not know.
One morning, like a person who is going abroad, or who wishes tocover up her tracks, Mme. Devil had sent for a furniture-dealer,and a dealer in second-hand clothes, and had sold them every thingshe had, going away with nothing but a little leather satchel, inwhich were her jewels and her money.The Baroness de Thaller still kept a good countenance. Afterexamining her for a moment, with a sort of eager curiosity, Mariusde Tregars went on,"When I communicated this information to my friend, the commissaryof police, he shook his head. 'Two years ago,' he told me, 'Iwould have said, that's more than we want to find those people; forthe public records would have given us at once the key of thisenigma. But we have had the war and the Commune; and the books ofrecord have been burnt up. Still we must not give up. A lasthope remains; and I know the man who is capable of realizing it.'
"Two days after, he brought me an excellent fellow, named VictorChupin, in whom I could have entire confidence; for he wasrecommended to me by one of the men whom I like and esteem the most,the Duke de Champdoce. Giving up all idea of applying at thevarious mayors' offices, Victor Chupin, with the patience and thetenacity of an Indian following a scent, began beating about thedistricts of Grenelle, Vargirard, and the Invalids. And not invain; for, after a week of investigations he brought me a nurse,residing Rue de l'Universite, who remembered perfectly having onceattended, on the occasion of her confinement, a remarkably prettyyoung woman, living in the Rue des Bergers, and nicknamed theMarquise de Javelle. And as she was a very orderly woman, who atall times had kept a very exact account of her receipts, she broughtme a little book in which I read this entry: 'For attending EuphrasieTaponnet, alias the Marquise de Javelle (a girl), one hundred francs.' And this is not all. This woman informed me, moreover, that she hadbeen requested to present the child at the mayor's office, and thatshe had been duly registered there under the names of EuphrasieCesarine Taponnet, born of Euphrasie Taponnet, laundress, and anunknown father. Finally she placed at my disposal her account-bookand her testimony.Taxed beyond measure; the energy of the baroness was beginning tofail her; she was turning livid under her rice-powder. Still inthe same icy tone,""You can understand, madame,"" said Marius de Tregars, ""that thiswoman's testimony, together with the letters which are in mypossession, enables me to establish before the courts the exactdate of the birth of a daughter whom my father had of his mistress.
"But that's nothing yet. With renewed zeal, Victor Chupin hadresumed his investigations. He had undertaken the examination ofthe marriage-registers in all the parishes of Paris, and, as earlyas the following week, he discovered at Notre Dame des Lorettes theentry of the marriage of Euphrasie Taponnet with Frederic deThaller."Though she must have expected that name, the baroness started upviolently and livid, and with a haggard look.
It's false! she began in a choking voice.
A smile of ironical pity passed over Marius' lips.
Five minutes' reflection will prove to you that it is useless todeny, he interrupted. "But wait. In the books of that same church,Victor Chupin has found registered the baptism of a daughter of M.
and Mme de Thaller, bearing the same names as the first one,- Euphrasie Cesarine."With a convulsive motion the baroness shrugged her shoulder.
What does all that prove? she said.
That proves, madame, the well-settled intention of substitutingone child for another; that proves that my father was imprudentlydeceived when he was made to believe that the second Cesarine washis daughter, the daughter in whose favor he had formerly disposedof over five hundred thousand francs; that proves that there issomewhere in the world a poor girl who has been basely forsaken byher mother, the Marquise de Javelle, now become the Baroness deThaller.Beside herself with terror and anger,"That is an infamous lie!" exclaimed the baroness. M. de Tregarsbowed.
The evidence of the truth of my statements, he said, "I shallfind at Louveciennes, and at the Hotel des Folies, Boulevard duTemple, Paris."Night had come. A footman came in carrying lamps, which he placedupon the mantelpiece. He was not all together one minute in thelittle parlor; but that one minute was enough to enable the Marquisede Thaller to recover her coolness, and to collect her ideas. Whenthe footman retired, she had made up her mind, with the resolutepromptness of a person accustomed to perilous situations. She gaveup the discussion, and, drawing near to M. de Traggers,"Enough allusions," she said: "let us speak frankly, and face toface now. What do you want?"But the change was too sudden not to arouse Marius's suspicions.
I want a great many things, he replied.
Still you must specify."Well, I claim first the five hundred thousand francs which myfather had settled upon his daughter, - the daughter whom you castoff."And what next?"I want besides, my own and my father's fortune, of which we havebeen robbed by M. de Thaller, with your assistance, madame."Is that all, at least?M. de Tregars shook his head.
That's nothing yet, he replied.
Oh!"We have now to say something of Vincent Favoral's affairs.An attorney who is defending the interests of a client is neithercalmer nor cooler than Mme. de Thaller at this moment.
Do the affairs of my husband's cashier concern me, then? she saidwith' a shade of irony.
Yes, madame, very much."I am glad to hear it."I know it from excellent sources, because, on my return fromLouveciennes, I called in the Rue du Cirque, where I saw one ZelieCadelle.He thought that the baroness would at least start on hearing thatname. Not at all. With a look of profound astonishment,"Rue du Cirque," she repeated, like a person who is making aprodigious effort of memory, - "Rue du Cirque! Zelie Cadelle!
Really, I do not understand."But, from the glance which M. de Traggers cast upon her, she musthave understood that she would not easily draw from him theparticulars which he had resolved not to tell.
I believe, on the contrary, he uttered, "that you understandperfectly.""Be it so, if you insist upon it. What do you ask for Favoral?""I demand, not for Favoral, but for the stockholders who have beenimpudently defrauded, the twelve millions which are missing fromthe funds of the Mutual Credit."Mme. de Thaller burst out laughing.
Only that? she said.
"Yes, only that!""Well, then, it seems to me that you should present your reclamationsto M. Favoral himself. You have the right to run after him.""It is useless, for the reason that it is not he, the poor fool! who has carried off the twelve millions.""Who is it, then?""M. le Baron de Thaller, no doubt.With that accent of pity which one takes to reply to an absurdproposition, - "" You are mad, my poor marquis,"" said Mme. de Thaller.
"You do not think so."But suppose I should refuse to do any thing more?He fixed upon her a glance in which she could read an irrevocabledetermination; and slowly,"I have a perfect horror of scandal," he replied, "and, as youperceive, I am trying to arrange every thing quietly between us.
But, if I do not succeed thus, I must appeal to the courts.""Where are your proofs?""Don't be afraid: I have proofs to sustain all my allegations."The baroness had stretched herself comfortably in her arm-chair.
May we know them? she inquired.
Marius was getting somewhat uneasy in presence of Mme. de Thaller'simperturbable assurance. What hope had she? Could she see somemeans of escape from a situation apparently so desperate? Determinedto prove to her that all was lost, and that she had nothing to dobut to surrender,"Oh! I know, madame," he replied, "that you have taken yourprecautions. But, when Providence interferes, you see, humanforesight does not amount to much. See, rather, what happens inregard to your first daughter, - the one you had when you werestill only Marquise de Javelle."And briefly he called to her mind the principal incidents of Mlle.
Lucienne's life from the time that she had left her with the poorgardeners at Louveciennes, without giving either her name or heraddress, - the injury she had received by being run over by Mme. deThaller's carriage; the long letter she had written from thehospital, begging for assistance; her visit to the house, and hermeeting with the Baron de Thaller; the effort to induce her toemigrate to America; her arrest by means of false information, andher escape, thanks to the kind peace-officer; the attempt upon heras she was going home late one night; and, finally, her imprisonmentafter the Commune, among the petroleuses, and her release throughthe interference of the same honest friend."And, charging her with the responsibility of all theseinfamous acts, he paused for an answer or a protest.
And, as Mme. de Thaller said nothing,"You are looking at me, madame, and wondering how I have discoveredall that. A single word will explain it all. The peace-officerwho saved your daughter is precisely the same to whom it was oncemy good fortune to render a service. By comparing notes, we havegradually reached the truth, - reached you, madame. Will youacknowledge now that I have more proofs than are necessary to applyto the courts?"Whether she acknowledged it or not, she did not condescend to discuss.
What then? she said coldly.
But M. de Traggers was too much on his guard to expose himself, bycontinuing to speak thus, to reveal the secret of his designs.
Besides, whilst he was thoroughly satisfied as to the manoeuvresused to defraud his father he had, as yet, but presumptions on whatconcerned Vincent Favoral.
Permit me not to say another word, madame, he replied. "I havetold you enough to enable you to judge of the value of my weapons."She must have felt that she could not make him change his mind, forshe rose to go.
That is sufficient, she uttered. "I shall reflect; and to-morrowI shall give you an answer."She started to go; but M. de Traggers threw himself quickly betweenher and the door.
Excuse me, he said; "but it is not to-morrow that I want an answer:
it is to-night, this instant!"Ah, if she could have annihilated him with a look.
Why, this is violence, she said in a voice which betrayed theincredible effort she was making to control herself.
It is imposed upon me by circumstances, madame."You would be less exacting, if my husband were here.He must have been within hearing; for suddenly the door opened, andhe appeared upon the threshold. There are people for whom theunforeseen does not exist, and whom no event can disconcert. Havingventured every thing, they expect every thing. Such was the Baronde Thaller. With a sagacious glance he examined his wife and M. deTraggers; and in a cordial tone,"We are quarreling here?" he said.
I am glad you have come! exclaimed the baroness.
What is the matter?"The matter is, that M. de Traggers is endeavoring to take an odiousadvantage of some incidents of our past life."There's woman's exaggeration for you! he said laughing.
And, holding out his hand to Marius,"Let me make your peace - for you, my dear marquis," he said: "that'swithin the province of the husband." But, instead of taking hisextended hand, M. de Tregars stepped back.
"There is no more peace possible, sir, I am an enemy. An enemy!"" he repeated in a tone of surprise which was wonderfullywell assumed, if it was not real.
"Yes, interrupted the baroness; "and I must speak to you at once,Frederic. Come: M. de Traggers will wait for you."And she led her husband into the adjoining room, not without firstcasting upon Marius a look of burning and triumphant hatred.
Left alone, M. de Traggers sat down. Far from annoying him, thissudden intervention of the manager of the Mutual Credit seemed tohim a stroke of fortune. It spared him an explanation more painfulstill than the first, and the unpleasant necessity of having toconfound a villain by proving his infamy to him.
And besides, he thought, "when the husband andthe wife have consulted with each other, they will ac-knowledge that they cannot resist, and that it is best tosurrender." The deliberation was brief. In less than tenminutes, M. de Thaller returned alone. He was pale;and his face expressed well the grief of an honest manwho discovers too late that he has misplaced his confidence.
My wife has told me all, sir, he began.
M. de Tregars had risen. "Well?" he asked.
You see me distressed. Ah, M. le Marquis! how could I ever expectsuch a thing from you? - you, whom I thought I had the right to lookupon as a friend. And it is you, who, when a great misfortunebefalls me, attempts to give me the finishing stroke. It is you whowould crush me under the weight of slanders gathered in the gutter.M. de Tregars stopped him with a gesture.
Mme. de Thaller cannot have correctly repeated my words to you,else you would not utter that word 'slander.'"She has repeated them to me without the least change."Then she cannot have told you the importance of the proofs I havein my hands.But the Baron persisted, as Mlle. Cesarine would have said, to "doit up in the tender style.""There is scarcely a family," he resumed, " in which there is notsome one of those painful secrets which they try to withhold fromthe wickedness of the world. There is one in mine. Yes, it istrue, that before our marriage, my wife had had a child, whompoverty had compelled her to abandon. We have since done everythingthat it was humanly possible to find that child, but without success.
It is a great misfortune, which has weighed upon our life; but it isnot a crime. If, however, you deem it your interest to divulge oursecret, and to disgrace a woman, you are free to do so: I cannotprevent you. But I declare it to you, that fact is the only thingreal in your accusations. You say that your father has been dupedand defrauded. From whom did you get such an idea?
"From Marcolet, doubtless, a man without character, who has becomemy mortal enemy since the day when he tried a sharp game on me, andcame out second best. Or from Costeclar, perhaps, who does notforgive me for having refused him my daughter's hand, and who hatesme because I know that he committed forgery once, and that he wouldbe in prison but for your father's extreme indulgence. Well,Costeclar and Marcolet have deceived you. If the Marquis de Tregarsruined himself, it is because he undertook a business that he knewnothing about, and speculated right and left. It does not takelong to sink a fortune, even without the assistance of thieves. As to pretend that I have benefitted by the embezzlements of mycashier that is simply stupid; and there can be no one to suggestsuch a thing, except Jottras and Saint Pavin, two scoundrels whomI have had ten times the opportunity to send to prison and who werethe accomplices of Favoral. Besides, the matter is in the hands ofjustice; and I shall prove in the broad daylight of the court-room,as I have already done in the office of the examining judge, that,to save the Mutual Credit, I have sacrificed more than half myprivate fortune.""Tired of this speech, the evident object of which was to lead himto discuss, and to betray himself,""Conclude, sir,"" M. de Traggers interrupted harshly. Still in thesame placid tone,""To conclude is easy enough,"" replied the baron. ""My wife has toldme that you were about to marry the daughter of my old cashier, - avery handsome girl, but without a sou. She ought to have a dowry.""""Sir!""""Let us show our hands. I am in a critical position: you know it,and you are trying to take advantage of it. Very well: we can stillcome to an understanding. What would you say, if I were to give toMlle. Gilberte the dowry I intended for my daughter?""All M. de Traggers' blood rushed to his face.
"Ah, not another word! he exclaimed with a gesture of unprecedentedviolence. But, controlling himself almost at once,"I demand," he added, "my father's fortune. I demand that youshould restore to the Mutual Credit Company the twelve millionswhich have been abstracted.""And if not?""Then I shall apply to the courts."They remained for a moment face to face, looking into each other'seyes. Then,"What have you decided?" asked M. de Traggers.
Without perhaps, suspecting that his offer was a new insult,"I will go as far as fifteen hundred thousand francs," replied M.
de Thaller, "and I pay cash.""Is that your last word?""It is.""If I enter a complaint, with the proofs in my hands,you are lost.""We'll see about that."To insist further would have been puerile.
Very well, we'll see, then, said M. de Traggers. But as hewalked out and got into his cab, which had been waiting for him atthe door, he could not help wondering what gave the Baron deThaller so much assurance, and whether he was not mistaken in hisconjectures.
It was nearly eight o'clock, and Maxence, Mme. Favoral and Mlle.
Gilberte must have been waiting for him with a feverish impatience;but he had eaten nothing since morning, and he stopped in front ofone of the restaurants of the Boulevard.
He had just ordered his dinner, when a gentleman of a certain age,but active and vigorous still, of military bearing, wearing amustache, and a van-colored ribbon at his buttonhole, came to takea seat at the adjoining table.
In less than fifteen minutes M. de Traggers had despatched a bowlof soup and a slice of beef, and was hastening out, when his footstruck his neighbor's foot, without his being able to understandhow it had happened.
Though fully convinced that it was not his fault, he hastened toexcuse himself. But the other began to talk angrily, and so loud,that everybody turned around.
Vexed as he was, Marius renewed his apologies.
But the other, like those cowards who think they have found agreater coward than themselves, was pouring forth a torrent ofthe grossest insults.
M. de Traggers was lifting his hand to administer a well-deservedcorrection, when suddenly the scene in the grand parlor of theThaller mansion came back vividly to his mind. He saw again, asin the glass, the ill-looking man listening, with an anxious look,to Mme. de Thaller's propositions, and afterwards sitting down towrite.
That's it! he exclaimed, a multitude of circumstances occurringto his mind, which had escaped him at the moment.
And, without further reflection, seizing his adversary by thethroat, he threw him over on the table, holding him down with hisknee.
I am sure he must have the letter about him, he said to thepeople who surrounded him.
And in fact he did take from the side-pocket of the villain a letter,which he unfolded, and commenced reading aloud,"I am waiting for you, my dear major, come quick, for the thing ispressing, - a troublesome gentleman who is to be made to keep quiet.
It will be for you the matter of a sword-thrust, and for us theoccasion to divide a round amount.""And, that's why he picked a quarrel with me," added M. de Traggers.
Two Waiters had taken hold of the villain, who was strugglingfuriously, and wanted to surrender him to the police.
What's the use? said Marius. " I have his letter: that's enough.
The police will find him when they want him."And, getting back into his cab,"Rue St. Gilles," he ordered, "and lively, if possible."VIIIIn the Rue St. Giles the hours were dragging, slow and gloomy.
After Maxence had left to go and meet M. de Tregars, Mme. Favoraland her daughter had remained alone with M. Chapelain, and had beencompelled to bear the brunt of his wrath, and to hear hisinterminable complaints.
He was certainly an excellent man, that old lawyer, and too just tohold Mlle. Gilberte or her mother responsible for Vincent Favoral'sacts. He spoke the truth when he assured them that he had for thema sincere affection, and that they might rely upon his devotion.
But he was losing a hundred and sixty thousand francs; and a manwho loses such a large sum is naturally in bad humor, and not muchdisposed to optimism.
The cruellest enemies of the poor women would not have torturedthem so mercilessly as this devoted friend.
He spared them not one sad detail of that meeting at the MutualCredit office, from which he had just come. He exaggerated theproud assurance of the manager, and the confiding simplicity of thestockholders. "That Baron de Thaller," he said to them, "iscertainly the most impudent scoundrel and the cleverest rascal Ihave ever seen. You'll see that he'll get out of it with cleanhands and full pockets. Whether or hot he has accomplices, Vincentwill be the scapegoat. We must make up our mind to that."His positive intention was to console Mme. Favoral and Gilberte.
Had he sworn to drive them to distraction, he could not havesucceeded better.
Poor woman! he said, "what is to become of you? Maxence is agood and honest fellow, I am sure, but so weak, so thoughtless, sofond of pleasure! He finds it difficult enough to get along byhimself. Of what assistance will he be to you?"Then came advice.
Mme. Favoral, he declared, should not hesitate to ask for aseparation, which the tribunal would certainly grant. For wantof this precaution, she would remain all her life under the burdenof her husband's debts, and constantly exposed to the annoyances ofthe creditors.
And always he wound up by saying,"Who could ever have expected such a thing from Vincent, - a friendof twenty years' standing! A hundred and sixty thousand francs!
Who in the world can be trusted hereafter?"Big tears were rolling slowly down Mme. Favoral's withered cheeks.
But Mlle. Gilberte was of those for whom the pity of others is theworst misfortune and the most acute suffering.
Twenty times she was on the point of exclaiming,"Keep your compassion, sir: we are neither so much to be pitied norso much forsaken as you think. Our misfortune has revealed to us atrue friend, - one who does not speak, but acts."At last, as twelve o'clock struck, M. Chapelain withdrew, announcingthat he would return the next day to get the news, and to bringfurther consolation.
Thank Heaven, we are alone at last! said Mlle. Gilberte.
But they had not much peace, for all that.
Great as had been the noise of Vincent Favoral's disaster, it hadnot reached at once all those who had intrusted their savings to him.
All day long, the belated creditors kept coming in; and the scenesof the morning were renewed on a smaller scale. Then legal summonsesbegan to pour in, three or four at a time. Mme. Favoral was losingall courage.
What disgrace! she groaned. "Will it always be so hereafter?"And she exhausted herself in useless conjectures upon the causes ofthe catastrophe; and such was the disorder of her mind, that sheknew not what to hope and what to fear, and that from one minute toanother she wished for the most contradictory things.
She would have been glad to hear that her husband was safe out ofthe country, and yet she would have deemed herself less miserable,had she known that he was hid somewhere in Paris.
And obstinately the same questions returned to her lips,"Where is he now? What is he doing? What is he thinking about?
How can he leave us without news? Is it possible that it is awoman who has driven him into the precipice? And, if so, who isthat woman?"Very different were Mlle. Gilberte's thoughts.
The great calamity that befell her family had brought about thesudden realization of her hopes. Her father's disaster had givenher an opportunity to test the man she loved; and she had foundhim even superior to all that she could have dared to dream. Thename of Favoral was forever disgraced;, but she was going to bethe wife of Marius, Marquise de Tregars.
And, in the candor of her loyal soul, she accused herself of nottaking enough interest in her mother's grief, and reproachedherself for the quivers of joy which she felt within her.
Where is Maxence? asked Mme. Favoral.
Where is M. de Tregars? Why have they told us nothing of theirprojects?"They will, no doubt, come home to dinner, replied Mlle. Gilberte.
So well was she convinced of this, that she had given orders to theservant to have a somewhat better dinner than usual; and her heartwas beating at the thought of being seated near Marius, between hermother and her brother.
At about six o'clock, the bell rang violently.
There he is! said the young girl, rising to her feet.
But no: it was only the porter, bringing up a summons ordering Mme.
Favoral, under penalty of the law, to appear the next day, at oneo'clock precisely, before the examining judge, Barban d'Avranchel,at his office in the Palace of Justice.
The poor woman came near fainting.
What can this judge want with me? It ought to be forbidden tocall a wife to testify against her husband, she said.
M. de Tregars will tell you what to answer, mamma, said Mlle.
Gilberte.
Meantime, seven o'clock came, then eight, and still neither Maxencenor M. de Tregars had come.
Both mother and daughter were becoming anxious, when at last, alittle before nine, they heard steps in the hall.
Marius de Tregars appeared almost immediately.
He was pale; and his face bore the trace of the crushing fatigues ofthe day, of the cares which oppressed him, of the reflections whichhad been suggested to his mind by the quarrel of which he had nearlybeen the victim a few moments since.
Maxence is not here? he asked at once.
We have not seen him, answered Mlle. Gilberte.
He seemed so much surprised, that Mme. Favoral was frightened.
What is the matter again, good God! she exclaimed.
Nothing, madame, said M. de Tregars, - "nothing that should alarmyou. Compelled, about two hours ago, to part from Maxence, I was tohave met him here. Since he has not come, he must have beendetained. I know where; and I will ask your permission to run andjoin him."He went out; but Mlle. Gilberte followed him in the hall, and,taking his hand,"How kind of you!" she began, "and how can we ever sufficientlythank you?"He interrupted her.
You owe me no thanks, my beloved; for, in what I am doing, thereis more selfishness than you think. It is my own cause, more thanyours, that I am defending. Any way, every thing is going on well.And, without giving any more explanations, he started again. Hehad no doubt that Maxence, after leaving him, had run to the Hoteldes Folies to give to Mlle. Lucienne an account of the day's work.
And, though somewhat annoyed that he had tarried so long, on secondthought, he was not surprised.
It was, therefore, to the Hotel des Folies that he was going. Nowthat he had unmasked his batteries and begun the struggle, he wasnot sorry to meet Mlle Lucienne.
In less than five minutes he had reached the Boulevard du Temple.
In front of the Fortins' narrow corridor a dozen idlers werestanding, talking.
M. de Tregars was listening as he went along.
It is a frightful accident, said one, - "such a pretty girl, andso young too!""As to me," said another, "it is the driver that I pity the most;for after all, if that pretty miss was in that carriage, it was forher own pleasure; whereas, the poor coachman was only attending tohis business."A confused presentiment oppressed M. de Tregars' heart. Addressinghimself to one of those worthy citizens,"Have you heard any particulars?
Flattered by the confidence,"Certainly I have," he replied. "I didn't see the thing with myown proper eyes; but my wife did. It was terrible. The carriage,a magnificent private carriage too, came from the direction of theMadeleine. The horses had run away; and already there had been anaccident in the Place du Chateau d'Eau, where an old woman had beenknocked down. Suddenly, here, over there, opposite the toy-shop,which is mine, by the way, the wheel of the carriage catches intothe wheel of an enormous truck; and at once, palata! the coachmanis thrown down, and so is the lady, who was inside, - a verypretty girl, who lives in this hotel."Leaving there the obliging narrator, M. de Tregars rushed throughthe narrow corridor of the Hotel des Folies. At the moment whenhe reached the yard, he found himself in presence of Maxence.
Pale, his head bare, his eyes wild, shaking with a nervous chill,the poor fellow looked like a madman. Noticing M. de Tregars,"Ah, my friend!" he exclaimed, "what misfortune'""Lucienne?""Dead, perhaps. The doctor will not answer for her recovery. Iam going to the druggist's to get a prescription."He was interrupted by the commissary of police, whose kindprotection had hitherto preserved Mlle. Lucienne. He was comingout of the little room on the ground-floor, which the Fortins usedfor an office, bedroom, and dining-room.
He had recognized Marius de Tregars, and, coming up to him, hepressed his hand, saying, "Well, you know?""Yes.""It is my fault, M. le Marquis; for we were fully notified. I knewso well that Mlle. Lucienne's existence was threatened, I was sofully expecting a new attempt upon her life, that, whenever she wentout riding, it was one of my men, wearing a footman's livery, whotook his seat by the side of the coachman. To-day my man was sobusy, that I said to myself, 'Bash, for once!' And behold theconsequences!"It was with inexpressible astonishment that Maxence was listening.
It was with a profound stupor that he discovered between Marius andthe commissary that serious intimacy which is the result of longintercourse, real esteem, and common hopes.
It is not an accident, then, remarked M. de Tregars.
The coachman has spoken, doubtless?"No: the wretch was killed on the spot.And, without waiting for another question,"But don't let us stay here," said the commissary.
"Whilst Maxence runs to the drug-store, let us go into the Fortins' office.The husband was alone there, the wife being at that moment withMlle. Lucienne.
"Do me the favor to go and take a walk for about fifteen minutes,said the commissary to him. "We have to talk, this gentleman andmyself."Humbly, without a word, and like a man who does himself justice,M. Fortin slipped off.
And at once, - "It is clear, M. le Marquis, it is manifest, that acrime has been committed. Listen, and judge for yourself. I wasjust rising from dinner, when I was notified of what was calledour poor Lucienne's accident. Without even changing my clothes, Iran. The carriage was lying in the street, broken to pieces. Twopolicemen were holding the horses, which had been stopped. Iinquire. I learn that Lucienne, picked up by Maxence, has been ableto drag herself as far as the Hotel des Folies, and that the driverhas been taken to the nearest drug-store. Furious at my ownnegligence, and tormented by vague suspicions, it is to the druggist'sthat I go first, and in all haste. The driver was in a backroom,stretched on a mattress.
His head having struck the angle of the curbstone, his skull wasbroken; and he had just breathed his last. It was, apparently, theannihilation of the hope which I had, of enlightening myself byquestioning this man. Nevertheless, I give orders to have himsearched. No paper is discovered upon him to establish his identity;but, in one of the pockets of his pantaloons, do you know what theyfind? Two bank-notes of a thousand francs each, carefully wrappedup in a fragment of newspaper.M. de Tregars had shuddered.
What a revelation! he murmured.
It was not to the present circumstance that he applied that word.
But the commissary naturally mistook him.
Yes, he went on, "it was a revelation. To me these two thousandfrancs were worth a confession: they could only be the wages of acrime. So, without losing a moment, I jump into a cab, and drive toBrion's. Everybody was upside down, because the horses had justbeen brought back. I question; and, from the very first words, thecorrectness of my presumption is demonstrated to me. The wretch whohad just died was not one of Brion's coachmen. This is what hadhappened. At two o'clock, when the carriage ordered by M. VanKlopen was ready to go for Mlle. Lucienne, they had been compelledto send for the driver and the footman, who had forgotten themselvesdrinking in a neighboring wine-shop, with a man who had called tosee them in the morning. They were slightly under the influence ofwine, but not enough so to make it imprudent to trust them withhorses; and it was even probable that the fresh air would sober themcompletely. They had then started; but, they had not gone very far,for one of their comrades had seen them stop the carriage in frontof a wine-shop, and join there the same individual with whom theyhad been drinking all the morning""And who was no other than the man who was killed?""Wait. Having obtained this information, I get some one to take meto the wine-shop; and I ask for the coachman and the footman fromBrion's. They were there still; and they are shown to me in aprivate room, lying on the floor, fast asleep. I try to wake themup, but in vain. I order to water them freely; but a pitcher ofwater thrown on their faces has no effect, save to make them utteran inarticulate groan. I guess at once what they have taken. Isend for a physician, and I call on the wine-merchant forexplanations. It is his wife and his barkeeper who answer me.
They tell me, that, at about two o'clock, a man came in the shop,who stated that he was employed at Brion's, and who ordered threeglasses for himself and two comrades, whom he was expecting.
"A few moments later, a carriage stops at the door; and the driverand the footman leave it to come in. They were in a great hurry,they said, and only wished to take one glass. They do take three,one after another; then they order a bottle. They were evidentlyforgetting their horses, which they bad given to hold to acommissionaire. Soon the man proposes a game. The others accept;and here they are, settled in the back-room, knocking on the tablefor sealed wine. The game must have lasted at least twenty minutes. At the end of that time, the man who had come in first appeared,looking very much annoyed, saying that it was very unpleasant, thathis comrades were dead drunk, that they will miss their work, andthat the boss, who is anxious to please his customers, willcertainly dismiss them. Although he had taken as much, and morethan the rest, he was perfectly steady; and, after reflecting fora moment, - I have an idea,' he says. 'Friends should help eachother, shouldn't they? I am going to take the coachman's livery,and drive in his stead. I happen to know the customer they weregoing after. She is a very kind old lady, and I'll tell her astory to explain the absence of the footman.' Convinced that the man is in Brion's employment, they have noobjection to offer to this fine project.
" "The brigand puts on the livery of the sleeping coachman, gets upon the box, and starts off, after stating that he will return forhis comrades as soon as he has got through the job, and thatdoubtless they will be sober by that time. M. de Tregars knew well enough the savoir-faire of the commissarynot to be surprised at his promptness in obtaining precise information. Already he was going on,Just as I was closing my examination, the doctor arrived. I showhim my drunkards; and at once he recognizes that I have guessedcorrectly, and that these men have been put asleep by means of oneof those narcotics of which certain thieves make use to rob theirvictims. A potion, which he administers to them by forcing theirteeth open with a knife, draws them from this lethargy. They opentheir eyes, and soon are in condition to reply to my questions.
"They are furious at the trick that has been played upon them; butthey do not know the man. They saw him they swear to me, for thefirst time that very morning; and they are ignorant even of hisname."There was no doubt possible after such complete explanations. Thecommissary had seen correctly, and he proved it.
It was not of a vulgar accident that Mlle. Lucienne had just beenthe victim, but of a crime laboriously conceived, and executed withunheard-of audacity, - of one of those crimes such as too many arecommitted, whose combinations, nine times out of ten, set asideeven a suspicion, and foil all the efforts of human justice.
M. de Tregars knew now what had taken place, as clearly as if hehad himself received the confession of the guilty parties.
A man had been found to execute that perilous programme, - to makethe horses run away, and then to run into some heavy wagon. Thewretch was staking his life on that game; it being evident thatthe light carriage must be smashed in a thousand pieces. But hemust have relied upon his skill and his presence of mind, to avoidthe shock, to jump off safe and sound'; whilst Mlle. Lucienne,thrown upon the pavement, would probably be killed on the spot.
The event had deceived his expectations, and he had been the victimof his rascality; but his death was a misfortune.
Because now, resumed the commissary, "the thread is broken in ourhands which would infallibly have led us to the truth. Who is itthat ordered the crime, and paid for it? We know it, since we knowwho benefits by the crime. But that is not sufficient. Justicerequires something more than moral proofs. Living, this banditwould have spoken. His death insures the impunity of the wretchesof whom he was but the instrument.""Perhaps," said M. Tregars.
And at the same time he took out of his pocket, and showed the notefound in Vincent Favoral's pocket-book, - that note, so obscure theday before, now so terribly clear.
I cannot understand your negligence. You should get through withthat Van Klopen affair: there is the danger.The commissary of police cast but a glance upon it, and, replyingto the objections of his old experience rather more than addressinghimself to M. de Tregars,"There can be no doubt about it," he murmured. "It is to the crimecommitted to-day that these pressing recommendations relate; and,directed as they are to Vincent Favoral, they attest his complicity.
It was he who had charge of finishing the Van Klopen affair; in otherwords, to get rid of Lucienne. It was he, I'd wager my head, whohad treated with the false coachman."He remained for over a minute absorbed in his own thoughts, then,"But who is the author of these recommendations to Vincent Favoral?
Do you know that, M. le Marquis?" he said.
They looked at each other; and the same name rose to their lips,"The Baroness de Thaller!"This name, however, they did not utter.
The commissary had placed himself under the gasburner which gavelight to the Fortin's office; and, adjusting his glasses, he wasscrutinizing the note with the most minute attention, studying thegrain and the transparency of the paper, the ink, and thehandwriting. And at last,"This note," he declared, "cannot constitute a proof against itsauthor: I mean an evident, material proof, such as we require toobtain from a judge an order of arrest."And, as Marius was protesting,"This note," he insisted, "is written with the left hand, withcommon ink, on ordinary foolscap paper, such as is found everywhere.
Now all left-hand writings look alike. Draw your own conclusions."But M. de Tregars did not give it up yet.
Wait a moment, he interrupted.
And briefly, though with the utmost exactness, he began telling hisvisit to the Thaller mansion, his conversation with Mlle. Cesarine,then with the baroness, and finally with the baron himself.
He described in the most graphic manner the scene which had takenplace in the grand parlor between Mme. de Thaller and a worse thansuspicious-looking man, - that scene, the secret of which had beenrevealed to him in its minutest details by the looking-glass. Itsmeaning was now as clear as day.
This suspicious-looking man had been one of the agents in arrangingthe intended murder: hence the agitation of the baroness when shehad received his card, and her haste to join him. If she hadstarted when he first spoke to her, it was because he was tellingher of the successful execution of the crime. If she had afterwardsmade a gesture of joy, it was because he had just informed her thatthe coachman had been killed at the same time, and that she foundherself thus rid of a dangerous accomplice.
The commissary of police shook his head.
All this is quite probable, he murmured; "but that's all."Again M. de Tregars stopped him.
I have not done yet, he said.
And he went on saying how he had been suddenly and brutallyassaulted by an unknown man in a restaurant; how he had collaredthis abject scoundrel, and taken out of his pocket a crushing letter,which left no doubt as to the nature of his mission.
The commissary's eyes were sparkling,"That letter! " he exclaimed, "that letter! And, as soon as he hadlooked over it,"Ah! This time," he resumed, "I think that we have somethingtangible. 'A troublesome gentleman to keep quiet,' - the Marquisde Tregars, of course, who is on the right track. 'It will be foryou the matter of a sword-thrust.' Naturally, dead men tell notales. 'It will be for us the occasion of dividing a round amount.'
An honest trade, indeed!"The good man was rubbing his hand with all his might.
At last we have a positive fact, he went on, - "a foundation uponwhich to base our accusations. Don't be uneasy. That letter isgoing to place into our hands the scoundrel who assaulted you, - whowill make known the go-between, who himself will not fail tosurrender the Baroness de Thaller. Lucienne shall be avenged. Ifwe could only now lay our hands on Vincent Favoral! But we'll findhim yet. I set two fellows after him this afternoon, who have asuperior scent, and understand their business."He was here interrupted by Maxence, who was returning all out ofbreath, holding in his hand the medicines which he had gone after.
I thought that druggist would never get through, he said.
And regretting to have remained away so long, feeling uneasy, andanxious to return up stairs,"Don't you wish to see Lucienne?" he added, addressing himself to M.
de Tregars rather more than to the commissary.
For all answer, they followed him at once.
A cheerless-looking place was Mlle. Lucienne's room, without anyfurniture but a narrow iron bedstead, a dilapidated bureau, fourstraw-bottomed chairs, and a small table. Over the bed, and atthe windows, were white muslin curtains, with an edging that hadonce been blue, but had become yellow from repeated washings.
Often Maxence had begged his friend to take a more comfortablelodging, and always she had refused.
We must economize, she would say. "This room does well enoughfor me; and, besides, I am accustomed to it."When M. de Tregars and the commissary walked in, the estimablehostess of the Hotel des Folies was kneeling in front of the fire,preparing some medicine.
Hearing the footsteps, she got up, and, with a finger upon herlips,"Hush!" she said. "Take care not to wake her up!" The precautionwas useless.
I am not asleep, said Mlle. Lucienne in a feeble voice. " Whois there?
I, replied Maxence, advancing towards the bed.
It was only necessary to see the poor girl in order to understandMaxence's frightful anxiety. She was whiter than the sheet; andfever, that horrible fever which follows severe wounds, gave to hereyes a sinister lustre.
But you are not alone, she said again.
I am with him, my child, replied the commissary. "I come to begyour pardon for having so badly protected you."She shook her head with a sad and gentle motion.
It was myself who lacked prudence, she said; "for to-day, whileout, I thought I noticed something wrong; but it looked so foolishto be afraid! If it had not happened to-day, it would have happenedsome other day. The villains who have been pursuing me for yearsmust be satisfied now. They will soon be rid of me.""Lucienne," said Maxence in a sorrowful tone M. de Tregars nowstepped forward.
You shall live, mademoiselle, he uttered in a grave voice. "Youshall live to learn to love life."And, as she was looking at him in surprise,"You do not know me," he added.
Timidly, and as if doubting the reality,"You," she said, "the Marquis de Tregars!""Yes, mademoiselle, your brother."Had he had the control of events, Marius de Tregars would probablynot have been in such haste to reveal this fact.
But how could he control himself in presence of that bed where apoor girl was, perhaps, about to die, sacrificed to the terrorsand to the cravings of the miserable woman who was her mother, - todie at twenty, victim of the basest and most odious of crimes? Howcould he help feeling an intense pity at the sight of thisunfortunate young woman who had endured every thing that a humanbeing can suffer, whose life had been but a long and painfulstruggle, whose courage had risen above all the woes of adversity,and who had been able to pass without a stain through the mud andmire of Paris.
Besides, Marius was not one of those men who mistrust their firstimpulse, who manifest their emotion only for a purpose, who reflectand calculate before giving themselves up to the inspirations oftheir heart.
Lucienne was the daughter of the Marquis de Tregars: of that he wasabsolutely certain. He knew that the same blood flowed in his veinsand in hers; and he told her so.
He told her so, above all, because he believed her in danger; andhe wished, were she to die, that she should have, at least, thatsupreme joy. Poor Lucienne! Never had she dared to dream of suchhappiness. All her blood rushed to her cheeks; and, in a voicevibrating with the most intense emotion,"Ah, now, yes," she uttered, "I would like to live."The commissary of police, also, felt moved.
Do not be alarmed, my child, he said in his kindest tone.
Before two weeks you will be up. M. de Tregars is a greatphysician.In the mean time, she had attempted to raise herself on her pillow;and that simple effort had wrung from her a cry of anguish.
Dear me! How I do suffer!"That's because you won't keep quiet, my darling, said Mme. Fortinin a tone of gentle scolding. "Have you forgotten that the doctorhas expressly forbidden you to stir?
Then taking aside the commissary, Maxence, and M. de Tregars, sheexplained to them how imprudent it was to disturb Mlle. Lucienne'srest. She was very ill, affirmed the worthy hostess; and her advicewas, that they should send for a sick-nurse as soon as possible.
She would have been extremely happy, of course, to spend the nightby the side of her dear lodger; but, unfortunately, she could notthink of it, the hotel requiring all her time and attention.
Fortunately, however, she knew in the neighborhood a widow, a veryhonest woman, and without her equal in taking care of the sick.
With an anxious and beseeching look, Maxence was consulting M. deTregars. In his eyes could be read the proposition that was burningupon his lips,"Shall I not go for Gilberte?"But that proposition he had no time to express. Though they hadbeen speaking very low, Mlle. Lucienne had heard.
I have a friend, she said, "who would certainly be willing to situp with me."They all went up to her.
What friend, inquired the commissary of police.
"You know her very well, sir. It is that poor girl who had takenme home with her at Batignolles when I left the hospital, who cameto my assistance during the Commune, and whom you helped to getout of the Versailles prisons. Do you know what has become of her?""""Only since yesterday, when I received a letter from her, a veryfriendly letter. She writes that she has found money to set up adressmaking establishment, and that she is relying upon me to beher forewoman. She is going to open in the Rue St. Lazare; but,in the mean time, she is stopping in the Rue du Cirque.""M. de Tregars and Maxence had started slightly.
"What is your friend's name? they inquired at once.
Not being aware of the particulars of the two young men's visit tothe Rue du Cirque, the commissary of police could not understandthe cause of their agitation.
I think, he said, "that it would hardly be proper now to send forthat girl.""It is to her alone, on the contrary, that we must resort,"interrupted M. de Tregars.
And, as he had good reasons to mistrust Mme. Fortin, he took thecommissary outside the room, on the landing; and there, in a fewwords, he explained to him that this Zelie was precisely the samewoman whom they had found in the Rue du Cirque, in that sumptuousmansion where Vincent Favoral, under the simple name of Vincent, hadbeen living, according to the neighbors, in such a princely style.
The commissary of police was astounded. Why had he not known allthis sooner? Better late than never, however.
Ah! you are right, M. le Marquis, a hundred times right! hedeclared. "This girl must evidently know Vincent Favoral's secret,the key of the enigma that we are vainly trying to solve. Whatshe would not tell to you, a stranger, she will tell to Lucienne,her friend."Maxence offered to go himself for Zelie Cadelle.
No," answered Marius. " If she should happen to know you, shewould mistrust you, and would refuse to come."It was, therefore, M. Fortin who was despatched to the Rue duCirque, and who went off muttering, though he had received fivefrancs to take a carriage, and five francs for his trouble.
And now, said the commissary of police to Maxence, "we must bothof us get out of the way. I, because the fact of my being acommissary would frighten Mme. Cadelle; you because, being VincentFavoral's son, your presence would certainly prove embarrassingto her."And so they went out; but M. de Tregars did not remain long alonewith Mlle. Lucienne. M. Fortin had had the delicacy not to tarryon the way.
Eleven o'clock struck as Zelie Cadelle rushed like a whirlwindinto her friend's room.
Such had been his haste, that she had given no thought whatever toher dress. She had stuck upon her uncombed hair the first bonnetshe had laid her hand upon, and thrown an old shawl over thewrapper in which she had received Marius in the afternoon.
What, my poor Lucienne! she exclaimed. "Are you so sick as allthat?"But she stopped short as she recognized M. de Tregars; and, in asuspicious tone,"What a singular meeting!" she said.
Marius bowed.
You know Lucienne?What she meant by that he understood perfectly. "Lucienne is mysister, madame," he said coldly.
She shrugged her shoulders. "What humbug!""It's the truth," affirmed Mlle. Lucienne; "and you know that Inever lie."Mme. Zelie was dumbfounded.
If you say so, she muttered. "But no matter: that's queer."M. de Tregars interrupted her with a gesture,"And, what's more, it is because Lucienne is my sister that you seeher there lying upon that bed. They attempted to murder her to-day!""Oh!""It was her mother who tried to get rid of her, so as to possessherself of the fortune which my father had left her; and there isevery reason to believe that the snare was contrived by VincentFavoral."Mme. Zelie did not understand very well; but, when Marius and Mlle.
Lucienne had informed her of all that it was useful for her to know,"Why," she exclaimed, "what a horrid rascal that old Vincent mustbe!"And, as M. de Tregars remained dumb,"This afternoon," she went on, "I didn't tell you any stories; butI didn't tell you every thing, either." She stopped; and, after amoment of deliberation,"'Well, I don't care for old Vincent," she said. "Ah! he tried tohave Lucienne killed, did he? Well, then, I am going to tell everything I know. First of all, he wasn't any thing to me. It isn'tvery flattering; but it is so. He has never kissed so much as theend of my finger. He used to say that he loved me, but that herespected me still more, because I looked so much like a daughterhe had lost. Old humbug! And I believed him too! I did, upon myword, at least in the beginning. But I am not such a fool as Ilook. I found out very soon that he was making fun of me; and thathe was only using me as a blind to keep suspicion away from anotherwoman.""From what woman?""Ah! now, I do not know! All I know is that she is married, thathe is crazy about her, and that they are to run away together.""Hasn't he gone, then?"Mme. Cadelle's face had become somewhat anxious, and for over aminute she seemed to hesitate.
Do you know, she said at last, "that my answer is going to costme a lot? They have promised me a pile of money; but I haven't gotit yet. And, if I say any thing, good-by! I sha'n't have any thing."M. de Tregars was opening his lips to tell her that she might resteasy on that score; but she cut him short.
Well, no, she said: "Old Vincent hasn't gone. He got up a comedy,so he told me, to throw the lady's husband off the track. He sentoff a whole lot of baggage by the railroad; but he staid in Paris.""And do you know where he is hid?""In the Rue St. Lazare, of course: in the apartment that I hiredtwo weeks ago."In a voice trembling with the excitement of almost certain success,"Would you consent to take me there?" asked M. de Tregars.
Whenever you like,-to-morrow.IXAs he left Mlle. Lucienne's room,"There is nothing more to keep me at the Hotel des Folies," saidthe commissary of police to Maxence. "Every thing possible will bedone, and well done, by M. de Tregars. I am going home, therefore;and I am going to take you with me. I have a great deal to do andyou'll help me."That was not exactly true; but he feared, on the part of Maxence,some imprudence which might compromise the success of M. deTregars' mission.
He was trying to think of every thing to leave as little as possibleto chance; like a man who has seen the best combined plans fail forwant of a trifling precaution.
Once in the yard, he opened the door of the lodge where thehonorable Fortins, man and wife, were deliberating, and exchangingtheir conjectures, instead of going to bed. For they werewonderfully puzzled by all those events that succeeded each other,and anxious about all these goings and comings.
I am going home, the commissary said to them; "but, before that,listen to my instructions. You will allow no one, you understand,- no one who is not known to you, to go up to Mlle. Lucienne'sroom. And remember that I will admit of no excuse, and that youmust not come and tell me afterwards, 'It isn't our fault, we can'tsee everybody that comes in,' and all that sort of nonsense."He was speaking in that harsh and imperious tone of whichpolice-agents have the secret, when they are addressing people whohave, by their conduct, placed themselves under their dependence.
We are going to close our front-door, replied the estimablehotel-keepers. " We will comply strictly with your orders.""I trust so; because, if you should disobey me, I should hear it,and the result would be a serious trouble to you. Besides yourhotel being unmercifully closed up, you would find yourselvesimplicated in a very bad piece of business.
The most ardent curiosity could be read in Mme. Fortin's little eyes.
I understood at once, she began, "that something extraordinarywas going on."But the commissary interrupted her,"I have not done yet. It may be that to-night or to-morrow someone will call and inquire how Mlle. Lucienne is.""And then?""You will answer that she is as bad as possible; and that she hasneither spoken a word, nor recovered her senses, since the accident;and that she will certainly not live through the day."The effort which Mme. Fortin made to remain silent gave, better thanany thing else, an idea of the terror with which the commissaryinspired her.
That is not all, he went on. "As soon as the person in questionhas started off, you will follow him, without affectation, as faras the street-door, and you will point him out with your finger,here, like that, to one of my agents, who will happen to be on theBoulevard.""And suppose he should not be there?""He shall be there. You can make yourself easy on that score."The looks of distress which the honorable hotel-keepers wereexchanging did not announce a very tranquil conscience.
In other words, here we are under surveillance, said M. Fortinwith a groan. "What have we done to be thus mistrusted?"To reply to him would have been a task more long than difficult.
Do as I tell you, insisted the commissary harshly, "and don'tmind the rest, and, meantime, good-night."He was right in trusting implicitly to his agent's punctuality;for, as soon as he came out of the Hotel des Folies, a man passedby him, and without seeming to address him, or even to recognizehim, said in a whisper,"What news?"Nothing," he replied, "except that the Fortins are notified. Thetrap is well set. Keep your eyes open now, and spot any one whocomes to ask about Mlle. Lucienne.
And he hurried on, still followed by Maxence, who walked along likea body without soul, tortured by the most frightful anguish.
As he had been away the whole evening, four or five persons werewaiting for him at his office on matters of current business. Hedespatched them in less than no time; after which, addressinghimself to an agent on duty,"This evening," he said, "at about nine o'clock, in a restaurant onthe Boulevard, a quarrel took place. A person tried to pick aquarrel with another.
You will proceed at once to that restaurant; you will get theparticulars of what took place; and you will ascertain exactly whothis man is, his name, his profession, and his residence.Like a man accustomed to such errands,"Can I have a description of him?" inquired the agent.
Yes. He is a man past middle age, military bearing, heavy mustache,ribbons in his buttonhole."Yes, I see: one of your regular fighting fellows."Very well. Go then. I shall not retire before your return. Ah,I forgot; find out what they thought to-night on the 'street' aboutthe Mutual Credit affair, and what they said of the arrest of oneSaint Pavin, editor of 'The Financial Pilot,' and of a banker namedJottras."Can I take a carriage?"Do so.The agent started; and he was not fairly out of the house, when thecommissary, opening a door which gave into a small study, called,"Felix!
It was his secretary, a man of about thirty, blonde, with a gentleand timid countenance, having, with his long coat, somewhat theappearance of a theological student. He appeared immediately.
You call me, sir?"My dear Felix, replied the commissary, "I have seen you, sometimes,imitate very nicely all sorts of hand-writings."The secretary blushed very much, no doubt on account of Maxence, whowas sitting by the side of his employer. He was a very honestfellow; but there are certain little talents of which people do notlike to boast; and the talent of imitating the writing of others isof the number, for the reason, that, fatally and at once, it suggeststhe idea of forgery.
It was only for fun that I used to do that, sir, he stammered.
Would you be here if it had been otherwise? said the commissary.
Only this time it is not for fun, but to do me a favor that Iwish you to try again.And, taking out of his pocket the letter taken by M. de Tregarsfrom the man in the restaurant,"Examine this writing," he said. "and see whether you feel capableof imitating it tolerably well."Spreading the letter under the full light of the lamp, the secretaryspent at least two minutes examining it with the minute attention ofan expert. And at the same time he was muttering,"Not at all convenient, this. Hard writing to imitate. Not asalient feature, not a characteristic sign! Nothing to strike theeye, or attract attention. It must be some old lawyer's clerk whowrote this."In spite of his anxiety of mind, the commissary smiled.
I shouldn't be surprised if you had guessed right.Thus encouraged,"At any rate." Felix declared, "I am going to try."He took a pen, and, after trying a dozen times,"How is this?" he asked, holding out a sheet of paper.
The commissary carefully compared the original with the copy.
It is not perfect, he murmured; "but at night, with the imaginationexcited by a great peril - Besides, we must risk something.""If I had a few hours to practise!""But you have not. Come, take up your pen, and write as well asyou can, in that same hand, what I am going to tell you."And after a moment's thought, he dictated as follows"All goes well. T. drawn into a quarrel, is to fight in the morningwith swords. But our man, whom I cannot leave, refuses to go ahead,unless he is paid two thousand francs before the duel. I have notthe amount. Please hand it to the bearer, who has orders to waitfor you."The commissary, leaning over his secretary's shoulder, was followinghis hand, and, the last word being written,"Perfect! "he exclaimed. "Now quick, the address: Mme. le Baronnede Thaller, Rue de le Pepiniere."There are professions which extinguish, in those who exercise them,all curiosity. It is with the most complete indifference, andwithout asking a question, that the secretary had done what he hadbeen requested.
Now, my dear Felix, resumed the commissary, you will please getyourself up as near as possible like a restaurant-waiter, and takethis letter to its address.""At this hour!""Yes. The Baroness de Thaller is out to a ball. You will tell theservants that you are bringing her an answer concerning an importantmatter. They know nothing about it; but they will allow you to waitfor their mistress in the porter's lodge. As soon as she comes in,you will hand her the letter, stating that two gentlemen who aretaking supper in your restaurant are waiting for the answer. It maybe that she will exclaim that you are a scoundrel, that she does notknow what it means: in that case, we shall have been anticipated, andyou must get away as fast as you can. But the chances are, that shewill give you two thousand francs; and then you must so manage, thatshe will be seen plainly when she does it. Is it all understood?"Perfectly.""Go ahead, then, and do not lose a minute. I shall wait."Away from Mlle. Lucienne, Maxence had gradually been recalled tothe strangeness of the situation; and it was with a mingled feelingof curiosity and surprise that he observed the commissary actingand bustling about.
The good man had found again all the activity of his youth, togetherwith that fever of hope and that impatience of success, whichusually disappear with age.
He was going over the whole of the case again, - his first meetingwith Mlle. Lucienne, the various attempts upon her life; and he hadjust taken out of the file the letter of information which had beenintrusted to him, in order to compare the writing with that of theletter taken from his adversary by M. de Tregars, when the lattercame in all out of breath.
Zelie has spoken! he said.
And, at once addressing Maxence,"You, my dear friend," he resumed, "you must run to the Hotel desFolies.""Is Lucienne worse?""No. Lucienne is getting on well enough. Zelie has spoken; butthere is no certainty, that, after due reflection, she will notrepent, and go and give the alarm. You will return, therefore,and you will not lose sight of her until I call for her in themorning. If she wishes to go out, you must prevent her."The commissary had understood the importance of the precaution.
You must prevent her, he added, "even by force; and I authorizeyou, if need be, to call upon the agent whom I have placed on duty,watching the Hotel des Folies, and to whom I am going to send wordimmediately."Maxence started off on a run.
Poor fellow! murmured Marius, "I know where your father is. Whatare we going to learn now?"He had scarcely had time to communicate the information he hadreceived from Mme. Cadelle, when the first of the commissary'semissaries made his appearance.
The commission is done, he said, in that confident tone of a manwho thinks he has successfully accomplished a difficult task.
"You know the name of the individual who sought a quarrel with M. de Tregars?""His name is Corvi. He is well known in all the tables d'hote,where there are women, and where they deal a healthy little gameafter dinner. I know him well too. He is a bad fellow, who passeshimself off for a former superior officer in the Italian army. His address?""""He lives at Rue de la Michodiere, in a furnished house. I wentthere. The porter told me that my man had just gone out with anill-looking individual, and that they must be in a little caf onthe corner of the next street. I ran there, and found my twofellows drinking beer.""""Won't they give us the slip?""""No danger of that: I have got them fixed.""""How is that?""""It is an idea of mine. I just thought, 'Suppose they put off?'
"And at once I went to notify some policemen, and I returned tostation myself near the caf . It was just closing up. My twofellows came out: I picked a quarrel with them; and now they arein the station-house, well recommended."The commissary knit his brows.
That's almost too much zeal, he murmured. "Well, what's done isdone. Did you make any inquiries about the Saint Pavin and Jottrasmatter?""I had no time, it was too late. You forget, perhaps, sir, that itis nearly two o'clock."Just as he got through, the secretary who had been sent to the Ruede la Pepiniere came in.
Well? inquired the commissary, not without evident anxiety.
I waited for Mme. de Thaller over an hour, he said. "When shecame home, I gave her the letter. She read it; and, in presence ofa number of her servants, she handed me these two thousand francs."At the sight of the bank notes, the commissary jumped to his feet.
Now we have it! he exclaimed. "Here is the proof that we wanted."
But already, at this time, M. Vincent Favoral's situation had beensingularly modified.
The revolution of 1848 had just taken place. The factory in theFaubourg St. Antoine, where he was employed, had been compelled toclose its doors.
One evening, as he came home at the usual hour, he announced thathe had been discharged.
Mme. Favoral shuddered at the thought of what her husband might be,without work, and deprived of his salary.
What is to become of us? she murmured.
He shrugged his shoulders. Visibly he was much excited. His cheekswere flushed; his eyes sparkled.
Bash! he said: "we shan't starve for all that." And, as his wifewas gazing at him in astonishment:
Well, he went o what are looking at? It is so: I know many a onewho affects to live on his income, and who are not as well off aswe are."It was, for over six years since he was married, the first time thathe spoke of his business otherwise than to groan and complain, toaccuse fate, and curse the high price of living. The very day before,he had declared himself ruined by the purchase of a pair of shoesfor Maxence. The change was so sudden and so great, that she hardlyknew what to think, and wondered if grief at the loss of his situationhad not somewhat disturbed his mind.
Such are women, he went on with a giggle. "Results astonish them,because they know nothing of the means used to bring them about. AmI a fool, then? Would I impose upon myself privations of all sorts,if it were to accomplish nothing? Parbleu! I love fine livingtoo, I do, and good dinners at the restaurant, and the theatre, andthe nice little excursions in the country. But I want to be rich.
At the price of all the comforts which I have not had, I have saveda capital, the income of which will support us all. Eh, eh! That'sthe power of the little penny put out to fatten!"As she went to bed that night, Mme. Favoral felt more happy than shehad done since her mother's death. She almost forgave her husbandhis sordid parsimony, and the humiliations he had heaped upon her.
Well, be it so, she thought. "I shall have lived miserably, I shallhave endured nameless sufferings; but my children shall be rich, theirlife shall be easy and pleasant."The next day M. Favoral's excitement had completely abated.
Manifestly he regretted his confidences.
You must not think on that account that you can waste and pillageevery thing, he declared rudely. "Besides, I have greatlyexaggerated."And he started in search of a situation.
To find one was likely to be difficult. Times of revolution are notexactly propitious to industry. Whilst the parties discussed in theChamber, there were on the street twenty thousand clerks, who, everymorning as they rose, wondered where they would dine that day.
For want of any thing better, Vincent Favoral undertook to keepbooks in various places, - an hour here, an hour there, twice a weekin one house, four times in another.
In this way he earned as much and more than he did at the factory;but the business did not suit him.
What he liked was the office from which one does not stir, thestove-heated atmosphere, the elbow-worn desk, the leather-cushionedchair, the black alpaca sleeves over the coat. The idea that heshould on one and the same day have to do with five or six differenthouses, and be compelled to walk an hour, to go and work another hourat the other end of Paris, fairly irritated him. He found himselfout of his reckoning, like a horse who has turned a mill for tenyears; if he is made to trot straight before him.
So, one morning, he gave up the whole thing, swearing that he wouldrather remain idle until he could find a place suited to his tasteand his convenience; and, in the mean time, all they would have todo would be to put a little less butter in the soup, and a littlemore water in the wine.
He went out, nevertheless, and remained until dinner-time. And hedid the same the next and the following days.
He started off the moment he had swallowed the last mouthful of hisbreakfast, came home at six o'clock, dined in haste, and disappearedagain, not to return until about midnight. He had hours of deliriousjoy, and moments of frightful discouragement. Sometimes he seemedhorribly uneasy.
What can he be doing? thought Mme. Favoral.
She ventured to ask him the question one morning, when he was infine humor.
Well, he answered, "am I not the master? I am operating at thebourse, that's all!"He could hardly have owned to any thing that would have frightenedthe poor woman as much.
Are you not afraid, she objected, "to lose all we have sopainfully accumulated? We have children -"He did not allow her to proceed.
Do you take me for a child? he exclaimed; "or do I look to youlike a man so easy to be duped? Mind to economize in your householdexpenses, and don't meddle with my business."And he continued. And he must have been lucky in his operations;for he had never been so pleasant at home. All his ways had changed.
He had had clothes made at a first-class tailor's, and was evidentlytrying to look elegant. He gave up his pipe, and smoked only cigars.
He got tired of giving every morning the money for the house, andtook the habit of handing it to his wife every week, on Sunday. Amark of vast confidence, as he observed to her. And so, the firsttime:
Be careful, he said, "that you don't find yourself pennilessbefore Thursday."He became also more communicative. Often during the dinner, hewould tell what he had heard during the day, anecdotes, gossip.
He enumerated the persons with whom he had spoken. He named anumber of people whom he called his friends, and whose names Mme.
Favoral carefully stored away in her memory.
There was one especially, who seemed to inspire him with a profoundrespect, a boundless admiration, and of whom he never tired oftalking. He was, said he, a man of his age, - M. de Thaller, theBaron de Thaller.
This one, he kept repeating, "is really mad: he is rich, he hasideas, he'll go far. It would be a great piece of luck if I couldget him to do something for me!"Until at last one day:
Your parents were very rich once.? he asked his wife.
I have heard it said, she answered.
"They spent a good deal of money, did they not? They had friends: they gave dinner-parties.""Yes, they received a good deal of company.""You remember that time?""Surely I do.""So that if I should take a fancy to receive some one here, someone of note, you would know how to do things properly?""I think so.He remained silent for a moment, like a man who thinks before takingan important decision, and then:
"I wish to invite a few persons to dinner, he said. She couldscarcely believe her ears. He had never received at his table anyone but a fellow-clerk at the factory, named Desclavettes, who hadjust married the daughter of a dealer in bronzes, and succeeded tohis business.
Is it possible? exclaimed Mme. Favoral.
So it is. The question is now, How much would a first-class dinnercost, the best of every thing?"That depends upon the number of guests."Say three or four persons.The poor woman set herself to figuring diligently for some time;and then timidly, for the sum seemed formidable to her:
I think, she began, "that with a hundred francs "Her husband commenced whistling.
You'll need that for the wines alone;' he interrupted. Do youtake me for a fool? But here, don't let us go into figures. Do asyour parents did when they did their best; and, if it's well, Ishall not complain of the expense. Take a good cook, hire a waiterwho understands his business well."She was utterly confounded; and yet she was not at the end of hersurprises.
Soon M. Favoral declared that their table-ware was not suitable, andthat he must buy a new set. He discovered a hundred purchases tobe made, and swore that he would make them. He even hesitated amoment about renewing the parlor furniture, although it was intolerably good condition still, and was a present from hisfather-in-law.
And, having finished his inventory:
And you, he asked his wife: "what dress will you wear?""I have my black silk dress -"He stopped her.
Which means that you have none at all, he said. "Very well. Youmust go this very day and get yourself one, - a very handsome, amagnificent one; and you'll send it to be made to a fashionabledressmaker. And at the same time you had better get some littlesuits for Maxence and Gilberte. Here are a thousand francs."Completely bewildered:
Who in the world are you going to invite, then? she asked.
The Baron and the Baroness de Thaller, he replied with an emphasisfull of conviction. "So try and distinguish yourself. Our fortuneis at stake."That this dinner was a matter of considerable import, Mme. Favoralcould not doubt when she saw her husband's fabulous liberalitycontinue without flinching for a number of days.
Ten times of an afternoon he would come home to tell his wife thename of some dish that had been mentioned before him, or to consulther on the subject of some exotic viand he had just noticed in someshop-window. Daily he brought home wines of the most fantasticvintages, - those wines which dealers manufacture for the specialuse of verdant fools, and which they sell in odd-shaped bottlespreviously overlaid with secular dust and cobwebs.
He subjected to a protracted cross-examination the cook whom Mme.
Favoral had engaged, and demanded that she should enumerate thehouses where she had cooked. He absolutely required the man who wasto wait at the table to exhibit the dress-coat he was to wear.
The great day having come, he did not stir from the house, goingand coming from the kitchen to the dining-room, uneasy, agitated,unable to stay in one place. He breathed only when he had seen thetable set and loaded with the new china he had purchased and themagnificent silver he had gone to hire in person. And when hisyoung wife made her appearance, looking lovely in her new dress,and leading by the hands the two children, Maxence and Gilberte, intheir new suits:
That's perfect, he exclaimed, highly delighted. "Nothing could bebetter. Now, let our four guests come!
They arrived a few minutes before seven, in two carriages, themagnificence of which astonished the Rue St. Gilles.
And, the presentations over, Vincent Favoral had at last theineffable satisfaction to see seated at his table the Baron andBaroness de Thaller, M. Saint Pavin, who called himself a financialeditor, and M. Jules Jottras, of the house of Jottras & Brother.
It was with an eager curiosity that Mme. Favoral observed thesepeople whom her husband called his friends, and whom she saw herselffor the first time.
M. de Thaller, who could not then have been much over thirty, wasalready a man without any particular age.
Cold, stiff, aping evidently the English style, he expressedhimself in brief sentences, and with a strong foreign accent.
Nothing to surprise on his countenance. He had the foreheadprominent, the eyes of a dull blue, and the nose very thin. Hisscanty hair was spread over the top of his head with laboredsymmetry; and his red, thick, and carefully-trimmed whiskers seemedto engross much of his attention.
M. Saint Pavin had not the same stiff manner. Careless in hisdress, he lacked breeding. He was a robust fellow, dark and bearded,with thick lips, the eye bright and prominent, spreading upon thetable-cloth broad hands ornamented at the joints with small tufts ofhair, speaking loud, laughing noisily, eating much and drinking more.
By the side of him, M. Jules Jottras, although looking like afashion-plate, did not show to much advantage. Delicate, blonde,sallow, almost beardless, M. Jottras distinguished himself only bya sort of unconscious impudence, a harmless cynicism, and a sort ofspasmodic giggle, that shook the eye-glasses which he wore stuckover his nose.
But it was above all Mme. de Thaller who excited Mme. Favoral'sapprehensions.
Dressed with a magnificence of at least questionable taste, verymuch decolletee, wearing large diamonds at her ears, and rings onall her fingers, the young baroness was insolently handsome, of abeauty sensuous even to coarseness. With hair of a bluish black,twisted over the neck in heavy ringlets, she had skin of a pearlywhiteness, lips redder than blood, and great eyes that threw flamesfrom beneath their long, curved lashes. It was the poetry of flesh;and one could not help admiring. Did she speak, however, or makea gesture, all admiration vanished. The voice was vulgar, the motioncommon. Did M. Jouras venture upon a double-entendre, she wouldthrow herself back upon her chair to laugh, stretching her neck, andthrusting her throat forward.
Wholly absorbed in the care of his guests, M. Favoral remarkednothing. He only thought of loading the plates, and filling theglasses, complaining that they ate and drank nothing, askinganxiously if the cooking was not good, if the wines were bad, andalmost driving the waiter out of his wits with questions andsuggestions.
It is a fact, that neither M. de Thaller nor M. Jottras had muchappetite. But M. Saint Pavin officiated for all; and the sole taskof keeping up with him caused M. Favoral to become visibly animated.
His cheeks were much flushed, when, having passed the champagne allaround, he raised his froth-tipped glass, exclaiming:
I drink to the success of the business."To the success of the business, echoed the others, touching hisglass.
And a few moments later they passed into the parlor to take coffee.
This toast had caused Mme. Favoral no little uneasiness. But shefound it impossible to ask a single question; Mme. de Thallerdragging her almost by force to a seat by her side on the sofa,pretending that two women always have secrets to exchange, even whenthey see each other for the first time.
The young baroness was fully an fait in matters of bonnets anddresses; and it was with giddy volubility that she asked Mme.
Favoral the names of her milliner and her dressmaker, and to whatjeweler she intrusted her diamonds to be reset.
This looked so much like a joke, that the poor housekeeper of theRue St. Gilles could not help smiling whilst answering that she hadno dressmaker, and that, having no diamonds, she had no possibleuse for the services of a jeweler.
The other declared she could not get over it. No diamonds! Thatwas a misfortune exceeding all. And quick she seized the opportunitycharitably to enumerate the parures in her jewel-case, and laces inher drawers, and the dresses in her wardrobes, In the first place, itwould have been impossible for her, she swore, to live with a husbandeither miserly or poor. Hers had just presented her with a lovelycoupe, lined with yellow satin, a perfect bijon. And she made gooduse of it too; for she loved to go about. She spent her daysshopping, or riding in the Bois. Every evening she had the choiceof the theatre or a ball, often both. The genre theatres were thoseshe preferred. To be sure, the opera and the Italians were morestylish; but she could not help gaping there.
Then she wished to kiss the children; and Gilberte and Maxence hadto be brought in. She adored children, she vowed: it was herweakness, her passion. She had herself a little girl, eighteenmonths old, called Cesarine, to whom she was devoted; and certainlyshe would have brought her, had she not feared she would have beenin the way.
All this verbiage sounded like a confused murmur to Mme. Favoral'sears. "Yes, no," she answered, hardly knowing to what she did answer.
Her head heavy with a vague apprehension, it required her utmostattention to observe her husband and his guests.
Standing by the mantel-piece, smoking their cigars, they conversedwith considerable animation, but not loud enough to enable her tohear all they said. It was only when M. Saint Pavin spoke that sheunderstood that they were still discussing the "business;" for hespoke of articles to publish, stocks to sell, dividends to distribute,sure profits to reap.
They all, at any rate, seemed to agree perfectly; and at a certainmoment she saw her husband and M. de Thaller strike each other'shand, as people do who exchange a pledge.
Eleven o'clock struck.
M. Favoral was insisting to make his guests accept a cup of tea ora glass of punch; but M. de Thaller declared that he had some workto do, and that, his carriage having come, he must go.
And go he did, taking with him the baroness, followed by M. SaintPavin and M. Jottras. And when, the door having closed upon them,M. Favoral found himself alone with his wife,"Well," he exclaimed, swelling with gratified vanity, "what do youthink of our friends?""They surprised me," she answered.
He fairly jumped at that word.
I should like to know why?Then, timidly, and with infinite precautions, she commencedexplaining that M. de Thaller's face inspired her with no confidence;that M. Jottras had seemed to her a very impudent personage; that M.
Saint Pavin appeared low and vulgar; and that, finally, the youngbaroness had given her of herself the most singular idea.
M. Favoral refused to hear more.
It's because you have never seen people of the best society, heexclaimed.
Excuse me. Formerly, during my mother's life -"Eh! Your mother never received but shop-keepers.The poor woman dropped her head.
I beg of you, Vincent, she insisted, "before doing any thing withthese new friends, think well, consult -"He burst out laughing.
Are you not afraid that they will cheat me? he said, - "people tentimes as rich as we are. Here, don't let us speak of it any more,and let us go to bed. You'll see what this dinner will bring us, andwhether I ever have reason to regret the money we have spent."
When, on the morning after this dinner, which was to form an era inher life, Mme. Favoral woke up, her husband was already up, pencilin hand, and busy figuring.
The charm had vanished with the fumes of the champagne; and theclouds of the worst days were gathering upon his brow.
Noticing that his wife was looking at him,"It's expensive work," he said in a bluff tone, "to set a businessgoing; and it wouldnt do to commence over again every day."To hear him speak, one would have thought that Mme. Favoral alone,by dint of hard begging, had persuaded him, into that expense whichhe now seemed to regret so much. She quietly called his attentionto the fact, reminding him that, far from urging, she had endeavoredto hold him back; repeating that she augured ill of that businessover which he was so enthusiastic, and that, if he would believe her,he would not venture.
Do you even know what the project is? he interrupted rudely.
"You have not told me.""Very well, then: leave me in peace with your presentiments. Youdislike my friends; and I saw very well how you treated Mme. deThaller. But I am the master; and what I have decided shall be. Besides, I have signed. Once for all, I forbid you ever speakingto me again on that subject.Whereupon, having dressed himself with much care, he started off,saying that he was expected at breakfast by Saint Pavin, thefinancial editor, and by M. Jottras, of the house of Jottras& Brother.
"A shrewd woman would not have given it up so easy, and, in the end,would probably have mastered the despot, whose intellect was farfrom brilliant. But Mme. Favoral was too proud to be shrewd; andbesides, the springs of her will had been broken by the successiveoppression of an odious stepmother and a brutal master. Herabdication of all was complete. Wounded, she kept the secret ofher wound, hung her head, and said nothing.
She did not, therefore, venture a single allusion; and nearly aweek elapsed, during which the names of her late guests were notonce mentioned.
It was through a newspaper, which M. Favoral had forgotten in theparlor, that she learned that the Baron de Thaller had just foundeda new stock company, the Mutual Credit Society, with a capital ofseveral millions.
Below the advertisement, which was printed in enormous letters,came a long article, in which it was demonstrated that the newcompany was, at the same time, a patriotic undertaking and aninstitution of credit of the first class; that it supplied a greatpublic want; that it would be of inestimable benefit to industry;that its profits were assured; and that to subscribe to its stockwas simply to draw short bills upon fortune.
Already somewhat re-assured by the reading of this article, Mme.
Favoral became quite so when she read the names of the board ofdirectors. Nearly all were titled, and decorated with many foreignorders; and the remainder were bankers, office-holders, and evensome exministers.
I must have been mistaken, she thought, yielding unconsciously tothe influence of printed evidence.
And no objection occurred to her, when, a few days later, herhusband told her,"I have the situation I wanted. I am head cashier of the companyof which M. de Thaller is manager."That was all. Of the nature of this society, of the advantageswhich it offered him, not one word.
Only by the way in which he expressed himself did Mme. Favoral judgethat he must have been well treated; and he further confirmed her inthat opinion by granting her, of his own accord, a few additionalfrancs for the daily expenses of the house.
We must, he declared on this memorable occasion, "do honor to oursocial position, whatever it may cost."For the first time in his life, he seemed heedful of public opinion.
He recommended his wife to be careful of her dress and of that ofthe children, and re-engaged a servant. He expressed the wish ofenlarging their circle of acquaintances, and inaugurated his Saturdaydinners, to which came assiduously, M. and Mme. Desclavettes, M.
Chapelain the attorney, the old man Desormeaux, and a few others.
As to himself he gradually settled down into those habits fromwhich he was nevermore to depart, and the chronometric regularityof which had secured him the nickname of Old Punctuality, of whichhe was proud.
In all other respects never did a man, to such a degree, become soutterly indifferent to his wife and children. His house was for himbut a mere hotel, where he slept, and took his evening meal. Henever thought of questioning his wife as to the use of her time, andwhat she did in his absence. Provided she did not ask him for money,and was there when he came home, he was satisfied.
Many women, at Mme. Favoral's age, might have made a strange use ofthat insulting indifference and of that absolute freedom.
If she did avail herself of it, it was solely to follow one of thoseinspirations which can only spring in a mother's heart.
The increase in the budget of the household was relatively large, butso nicely calculated, that she had not one cent more that she couldcall her own.
With the most intense sorrow, she thought that her children mighthave to endure the humiliating privations which had made her ownlife wretched. They were too young yet to suffer from the paternalparsimony; but they would grow; their desires would develop; and itwould be impossible for her to grant them the most innocentsatisfactions.
Whilst turning over and over in her mind this distressing thought,she remembered a friend of her mother's, who kept, in the Rue St.
Denis, a large establishment for the sale of hosiery and woollengoods. There, perhaps, lay the solution of the problem. She calledto see the worthy woman, and, without even needing to confess thewhole truth to her, she obtained sundry pieces of work, ill paidas a matter of course, but which, by dint of close application,might be made to yield from eight to twelve francs a week.
From this time she never lost a minute, concealing her work as ifit were an evil act.
She knew her husband well enough to feel certain that he wouldbreak out, and swear that he spent money enough to enable his wifeto live without being reduced to making a work woman of herself.
But what joy, the day when she hid way down at the bottom of adrawer the first twenty-franc-piece she had earned, a beautifulgold-piece, which belonged to her without contest, and which shemight spend as she pleased, without having to render any accountto any one!
And with what pride, from week to week, she saw her little treasureswell, despite the drafts she made upon it, sometimes to buy a toyfor Maxence, sometimes to add a few ribbons or trinkets to Gilberte'stoilet!
This was the happiest time of her life, a halt in that painfuljourney through which she had been dragging herself for so manyyears. Between her two children, the hours flew light and rapidas so many seconds. If all the hopes of the young girl and of thewoman had withered before they had blossomed, the mother's joys,at least should not fail her. Because, whilst the present sufficedto her modest ambition, the future had ceased to cause her anyuneasiness.
No reference had ever been made, between herself and her husband,to that famous dinner-party: he never spoke to her of the MutualCredit Society; but now and then he allowed some words or exclamationsto escape, which she carefully recorded, and which betrayed aprosperous state of affairs.
That Thaller is a tough fellow! he would exclaim, "and he has themost infernal luck!"And at other times,"Two or three more operations like the one we have just successfullywound up, and we can shut up shop!"From all this, what could she conclude, if not that he was marchingwith rapid strides towards that fortune, the object of all hisambition?
Already in the neighborhood he had that reputation to be very rich,which is the beginning of riches itself. He was admired for keepinghis house with such rigid economy; for a man is always esteemed whohas money, and does not spend it.
He is not the man ever to squander what he has, the neighborsrepeated.
The persons whom he received on Saturdays believed him more thancomfortably off. When M. Desclavettes and M. Chapelain hadcomplained to their hearts' contents, the one of the shop, theother of his office, they never failed to add,"You laugh at us, because you are engaged in large operations, wherepeople make as much money as they like."They seemed to hold his financial capacities in high estimation.
They consulted him, and followed his advice.
M. Desormeaux was wont to say,"Oh! he knows what he is about."And Mme. Favoral tried to persuade herself, that, in this respectat least, her husband was a remarkable man. She attributed hissilence and his distractions to the grave cares that filled his mind.
In the same manner that he had once announced to her that they hadenough to live on, she expected him, some fine morning, to tell herthat he was a millionaire.
But the respite granted by fate to Mme. Favoral was drawing to anend: her trials were about to return more poignant than ever,occasioned, this time, by her children, hitherto her whole happinessand her only consolation.
Maxence was nearly twelve. He was a good little fellow, intelligent,studious at times, but thoughtless in the extreme, and of aturbulence which nothing could tame.
At the Massin School, where he had been sent, he made his teachers'
hair turn white; and not a week went by that he did not signalizehimself by some fresh misdeed.
A father like any other would have paid but slight attention to thepranks of a schoolboy, who, after all, ranked among the first of hisclass, and of whom the teachers themselves, whilst complaining, said,"Bash! What matters it, since the heart is sound and the mind sane?"But M. Favoral took every thing tragically. If Maxence was kept in,or otherwise punished, he pretended that it reflected upon himself,and that his son was disgracing him.
If a report came home with this remark, "execrable conduct," he fellinto the most violent passion, and seemed to lose all control ofhimself.
At your age, he would shout to the terrified boy, "I was workingin a factory, and earning my livelihood. Do you suppose that Iwill not tire of making sacrifices to procure you the advantagesof an education which I lacked myself? Beware. Havre is not faroff; and cabin-boys are always in demand there."If, at least, he had confined himself to these admonitions, which,by their very exaggeration, failed in their object! But he favoredmechanical appliances as a necessary means of sufficiently impressingreprimands upon the minds of young people; and therefore, seizinghis cane, he would beat poor Maxence most unmercifully, the more sothat the boy, filled with pride, would have allowed himself to bechopped to pieces rather than utter a cry, or shed a tear.
The first time that Mme. Favoral saw her son struck, she was seizedwith one of those wild fits of anger which do not reason, and neverforgive. To be beaten herself would have seemed to her lessatrocious, less humiliating. Hitherto she had found it impossibleto love a husband such as hers: henceforth, she took him in utteraversion: he inspired her with horror. She looked upon her son asa martyr for whom she could hardly ever do enough.
And so, after these harrowing scenes, she would press him to herheart in the most passionate embrace; she would cover with her kissesthe traces of the blows; and she would strive, by the most deliriouscaresses, to make him forget the paternal brutalities. With him shesobbed. Like him, she would shake her clinched fists in the vacantspace; exclaiming, "Coward, tyrant, assassin!" The little Gilbertemingled her tears with theirs; and, pressed against each other, theydeplored their destiny, cursing the common enemy, the head of thefamily.
Thus did Maxence spend his boyhood between equally fatalexaggerations, between the revolting brutalities of his father, andthe dangerous caresses of his mother; the one depriving him of everything, the other refusing him nothing.
For Mme. Favoral had now found a use for her humble savings.
If the idea had never come to the cashier of the Mutual CreditSociety to put a few sous in his son's pocket, the too weak motherwould have suggested to him the want of money in order to have thepleasure of gratifying it.
She who had suffered so many humiliations in her life, she could notbear the idea of her son having his pride wounded, and being unableto indulge in those little trifling expenses which are the vanityof schoolboys.
Here, take this, she would tell him on holidays, slipping a fewfrancs into his hands.
Unfortunately, to her present she joined the recommendation not toallow his father to know any thing about it; forgetting that she wasthus training Maxence to dissimulate, warping his natural sense ofright, and perverting his instincts:
No, she gave; and, to repair the gaps thus made in her treasure, sheworked to the point of ruining her sight, with such eager zeal, thatthe worthy shop-keeper of the Rue St. Denis asked her if she did notemploy working girls. In truth, the only help she received was fromGilberte, who, at the age of eight, already knew how to make herselfuseful.
And this is not all. For this son, in anticipation of growingexpenses, she stooped to expedients which formerly would have seemedto her unworthy and disgraceful. She robbed the household, cheatingon her own marketing. She went so far as to confide to her servant,and to make of the girl the accomplice of her operations. Sheapplied all her ingenuity to serve to M. Favoral dinners in whichthe excellence of the dressing concealed the want of solid substance.
And on Sunday, when she rendered her weekly accounts, it was withouta blush that she increased by a few centimes the price of each object,rejoicing when she had thus scraped a dozen francs,, and finding, tojustify herself to her own eyes, those sophisms which passion neverlacks.
At first Maxence was too young to wonder from what sources his motherdrew the money she lavished upon his schoolboy fancies. Sherecommended him to hide from his father: he did so, and thought itperfectly natural.
As he grew older, he learned to discern.
The moment came when he opened his eyes upon the system under whichthe paternal household was managed. He noticed there that anxiouseconomy which seems to betray want, and the acrimonious discussionswhich arose upon the inconsiderate use of a twenty-franc-piece. Hesaw his mother realize miracles of industry to conceal the shabbinessof her toilets, and resort to the most skillful diplomacy when shewished to purchase a dress for Gilberte.
And, despite all this, he had at his disposition as much money asthose of his comrades whose parents had the reputation to be themost opulent and the most generous.
Anxious, he questioned his mother.
Eh what does it matter? she answered, blushingand confused. "Is that any thing to worry you?"And, as he insisted,"Go ahead," she said: "we are rich enough." But he could hardlybelieve her, accustomed as he was to hear every one talk of poverty;and, as he fixed upon her his great astonished eyes,"Yes," she resumed, with an imprudence which fatally was to bear itsfruits, "we are rich; and, if we live as you see, it is because itsuits your father, who wishes to amass a still greater fortune."This was hardly an answer; and yet Maxence asked no further question.
But he inquired here and there, with that patient shrewdness of youngpeople possessed with a fixed idea.
Already, at this time, M. Favoral had in the neighborhood, and everamong his friends, the reputation to be worth at least a million.
The Mutual Credit Society had considerably developed itself: he must,they thought, have benefitted largely by the circumstance; and theprofits must have swelled rapidly in the hands of so able, a man,and one so noted for his rigid economy.
Such is the substance of what Maxence heard; and people did not failto add ironically, that he need not rely upon the paternal fortuneto amuse himself.
M. Desormeaux himself, whom he had "pumped" rather cleverly, hadtold him, whilst patting him amicably on the shoulder,"If you ever need money for your frolics, young man, try and earnit; for I'll be hanged if it's the old man who'll ever supply it."Such answers complicated, instead of explaining, the problem whichoccupied Maxence.
He observed, he watched; and at last he acquired the certainty thatthe money he spent was the fruit of the joint labor of his motherand sister.
Ah! why not have told me so? he exclaimed, throwing his armsaround his mother's neck. "Why have exposed me to the bitter regretswhich I feel at this moment?"By this sole word the poor woman found herself amply repaid. Sheadmired the noblesse of her son's feelings and the kindness of hisheart.
Do you not understand, she told him, shedding tears of joy, "doyou not see, that the labor which can promote her son's pleasure isa happiness for his mother?"But he was dismayed at his discovery.
No matter! he said. "I swear that I shall no longer scatter tothe winds, as I have been doing, the money that you give me.
For a few weeks, indeed, he was faithful to his pledge. But atfifteen resolutions are not very stanch. The impressions he hadfelt wore off. He became tired of the small privations which he hadto impose upon himself.
He soon came to take to the letter what his mother had told him, andto prove to his own satisfaction that to deprive himself of apleasure was to deprive her. He asked for ten francs one day, thenten francs another, and gradually resumed his old habits.
He was at this time about leaving school.
The moment has come, said M. Favoral, "for him to select a career,and support himself."