It was after four o'clock when M. de Tregars was at last permittedto return home. He had minutely, and at length, arranged everything with the commissary: he had endeavored to anticipate everyeventuality. His line of conduct was perfectly well marked out,and he carried with him the certainty that on the day which wasabout to dawn the strange game that he was playing must be finallywon or lost. When he reached home,"At last, here you are, sir!" exclaimed his faithful servant.
It was doubtless anxiety that had kept up the old man all night; butso absorbed was Marius's mind, that he scarcely noticed the fact.
Did any one call in my absence? he asked.
Yes, sir. A gentleman called during the evening, M. Costeclar, whoappeared very much vexed not to find you in. He stated that he cameon a very important matter that you would know all about: and herequested me to ask you to wait for him to-morrow, that is to-day,by twelve o'clock.Was M. Costeclar sent by M. de Thaller? Had the manager of theMutual Credit changed his mind? and had he decided to accept theconditions which he had at first rejected? In that case, it wastoo late. It was no longer in the power of any human being tosuspend the action of justice. Without giving any further thoughtto that visit,"I am worn out with fatigue," said M. de Tregars, "and I am goingto lie down. At eight o'clock precisely you will call me."But it was in vain that he tried to find a short respite in sleep.
For forty-eight hours his mind had been taxed beyond measure, hisnerves had been wrought up to an almost intolerable degree ofexaltation.
As soon as he closed his eyes, it was with a merciless precisionthat his imagination presented to him all the events which had takenplace since that afternoon in the Place-Royale when he had venturedto declare his love to Mlle. Gilberte. Who could have told him then,that he would engage in that struggle, the issue of which mustcertainly be some abominable scandal in which his name would bemixed? Who could have told him, that gradually, and by the veryforce of circumstances, he would be led to overcome his repugnance,and to rival the ruses and the tortuous combinations of the wretcheshe was trying to reach?
But he was not of those who, once engaged, regret, hesitate, anddraw hack. His conscience reproached him for nothing. It was forjustice and right that he was battling; and Mlle. Gilberte was theprize that would reward him.
Eight o'clock struck; and his servant came in.
Run for a cab, he said: 'I'll be ready in a moment."He was ready, in fact, when the old servant returned; and, as hehad in his pocket some of those arguments that lend wings to thepoorest cab-horses, in less than ten minutes he had reached theHotel des Folies.
How is Mlle. Lucienne? he inquired first of all of the worthyhostess.
The intervention of the commissary of police had made M. Fortin andhis wife more supple than gloves, and more gentle than doves.
The poor dear child is much better, answered Mme. Fortin; "andthe doctor, who has just left, now feels sure of her recovery. Butthere is a row up there.""A row?""Yes. That lady whom my husband went after last night insists upongoing out; and M. Maxence won't let her: so that they are quarrelingup there. Just listen."The loud noise of a violent altercation could be heard distinctly.
M. de Tregars started up stairs, and on the second-story landing hefound Maxence holding on obstinately to the railing, whilst Mme.
Zelie Cadelle, redder than a peony, was trying to induce him to lether pass, treating him at the same time to some of the choicestepithets of her well-stocked repertory. Catching sight of Marius,"Is it you," she cried, "who gave orders to keep me here against mywishes? By what right? Am I your prisoner?"To irritate her would have been imprudent.
Why did you wish to leave, said M. de Tregars gently, "at the verymoment when you knew that I was to call for you?"But she interrupted him, and, shrugging her shoulders,"Why don't you tell the truth?" she said. "You were afraid totrust me.""Oh!""You are wrong! What I promise to do I do. I only wanted to gohome to dress. Can I go in the street in this costume?"And she was spreading out her wrapper, all faded and stained.
I have a carriage below, said Marius. "No one will see us.
Doubtless she understood that it was useless to hesitate.
As you please, she said.
M. de Tregars took Maxence aside, and in a hurried whisper,"You must," said he, "go at once to the Rue St. Gilles, and in myname request your sister to accompany you. You will take a closedcarriage, and you'll go and wait in the Rue St. Lazare, oppositeNo.25. It may be that Mlle. Gilberte's assistance will becomeindispensable to me. And, as Lucienne must not be left alone, youwill request Mme. Fortin to go and stay with her."And, without waiting for an answer,"Let us go," he said to Mme. Cadelle.
They started but the young woman was far from being in her usualspirits. It was clear that she was regretting bitterly having goneso far, and not having been able to get away at the last moment.
As the carriage went on, she became paler and a frown appeared uponher face.
No matter, she began: "it's a nasty thing I am doing there.""Do you repent then, assisting me to punish your friend's assassins?"said M. de Tregars.
She shook her head.
I know very well that old Vincent is a scoundrel, she said; "buthe had trusted me, and I am betraying him.""You are mistaken, madame. To furnish me the means of speaking toM. Favoral is not to betray him; and I shall do every thing in mypower to enable him to escape the police, and make his way abroad.""What a joke!""It is the exact truth: I give you my word of honor." She seemedto feel easier; and, when the carriage turned into the Rue St.
Lazare, "Let us stop a moment," she said.
Why?"So that I can buy old Vincent's breakfast. He can't go out to eat,of course; and so I have to take all his meals to him.Marius's mistrust was far from being dissipated; and yet he did notthink it prudent to refuse, promising himself, however, not to losesight of Mme. Zelie. He followed her, therefore, to the baker'sand the butcher's; and when she had done her marketing, he enteredwith her the house of modest appearance where she had her apartment.
They were already going up stairs, when the porter ran out of hislodge.
Madame! he said, "madame!"Mme. Cadelle stopped.
What is the matter?"A letter for you."For me?"Here it is. A lady brought it less than five minutes ago. Really,she looked annoyed not to find you in. But she is going to comeback. She knew you were to be here this morning.M. de Tregars had also stopped.
What kind of a looking person was this lady? he asked.
Dressed all in black, with a thick veil on her face."All right. I thank you.The porter returned to his lodge. Mme. Zelie broke the seal. Thefirst envelope contained another, upon which she spelt, for she didnot read very fluently, "To be handed to M. Vincent.""Some one knows that he is hiding here," she said in a tone of uttersurprise. "Who can it be?""Who? Why, the woman whose reputation M. Favoral was so anxious tospare when he put you in the Rue du Cirque house."There was nothing that irritated the young woman so much as this idea.
You are right, she said. "What a fool he made of me; the old rascal!
But never mind. I am going to pay him for it now."Nevertheless when she reached her story, the third, and at the momentof slipping the key into the keyhole, she again seemed perplexed.
If some misfortune should happen, she sighed.
What are you afraid of?"Old Vincent has got all sorts of arms in there. He has sworn to methat the first person who forced his way into the apartments, hewould kill him like a dog. Suppose he should fire at us?She was afraid, terribly afraid: she was livid, and her teethchattered.
Let me go first, suggested M. de Tregars.
No. Only, if you were a good fellow, you would do what I am goingto ask you. Say, will you?"If it can be done."Oh, certainly! Here is the thing. We'll go in together; but youmust not make any noise. There is a large closet with glass doors,from which every thing can be heard and seen that goes on in thelarge room. You'll get in there. I'll go ahead, and draw out oldVincent into the parlor and at the right moment, v'lan! you appear.It was after all, quite reasonable.
Agreed! said Marius.
Then, she said, "every thing will go on right. The entrance ofthe closet with the glass doors is on the right as you go in. Comealong now, and walk easy."And she opened the door.
The apartment was exactly as described by Mme. Cadelle. In thedark and narrow ante-chamber, three doors opened, - on the left,that of the dining-room; in the centre, that of a parlor andbedroom which communicated; on the right, that of the closet. M.
de Tregars slipped in noiselessly through the latter, and at oncerecognized that Mme. Zelie had not deceived him, and that he wouldsee and hear every thing that went on in the parlor. He saw theyoung woman walk into it. She laid her provisions down upon thetable, and called,"Vincent!"The former cashier of the Mutual Credit appeared at once, comingout of the bedroom.
He was so changed, that his wife and children would have hesitatedin recognizing him. He had cut off his beard, pulled out almostthe whole of his thick eye-brows, and covered his rough andstraight hair under a brown curly wig, He wore patent-leather boots,wide pantaloons, and one of those short jackets of rough material,and with broad sleeves which French elegance has borrowed fromEnglish stable-boys. He tried to appear calm, careless, and playful;but the contraction of his lips betrayed a horrible anguish, andhis look had the strange mobility of the wild beasts' eye, when,almost at bay, they stop for a moment, listening to the barking ofthe hounds.
I was beginning to fear that you would disappoint me, he said toMme. Zelie.
It took me some time to buy your breakfast."And is that all that kept you?"The porter detained me too, to hand me a letter, in which I foundone for you. Here it is."A letter! exclaimed Vincent Favoral.
And, snatching it from her, he tore off the envelope. But he hadscarcely looked over it, when he crushed it in his hand, exclaiming,"It is monstrous! It is a mean, infamous treason!" He wasinterrupted by a violent ringing of the door-bell.
Who can it be? stammered Mme. Cadelle.
I know who it is, replied the former cashier. "Open, open quick."She obeyed; and almost at once a woman walked into the parlor,wearing a cheap, black woolen dress. With a sudden gesture, shethrew off her veil; and M. de Tregars recognized the Baroness deThaller.
Leave us! she said to Mme. Zelie, in a tone which one would hardlydare to assume towards a bar-maid.
The other felt indignant.
What, what! she began. " I am in my own house here.""Leave us!" repeated M. Favoral with a threatening gesture.
Go, go!She went out but only to take refuge by the side of M. de Tregars.
You hear how they treat me, she said in a hoarse voice.
He made no answer. All his attention was centred upon the parlor.
The Baroness de Thaller and the former cashier were standingopposite each other, like two adversaries about to fight a duel.
I have just read your letter, began Vincent Favoral.
Coldly the baroness said, "Ah!""It is a joke, I suppose.""Not at all.""You refuse to go with me?""Positively.""And yet it was all agreed upon. I have acted wholly under yoururgent, pressing advice. How many times have you repeated to methat to live with your husband had become an intolerable tormentto you! How many times have you sworn to me that you wished to bemine alone, begging me to procure a large sum of money, and to flywith you!""I was in earnest at the time. I have discovered, at the lastmoment, that it would be impossible for me thus to abandon mycountry, my daughter, my friends.""We can take Cesarine with us.""Do not insist."He was looking at her with a stupid, gloomy gaze.
Then, he stammered, "those tears, those prayers, those oaths!""I have reflected.""It is not possible! If you spoke the truth, you would not be here.""I am here to make you understand that we must give up projectswhich cannot be realized. There are some social conventionalitieswhich cannot be torn up. As if he scarcely understood what shesaid, he repeated,"Social conventionalities!"And suddenly falling at Mme. de Thaller's feet, his head thrownback, and his hands clasped together,"You lie!" he said. "Confess that you lie, and that it is a finaltrial which you are imposing upon me. Or else have you, then,never loved me? That's impossible! I would not believe you if youwere to say so. A woman who does not love a man cannot be to himwhat you have been to me: she does not give herself up thus sojoyously and so completely. Have you, then, forgotten every thing?
Is it possible that you do not remember those divine evenings in theRue de Cirque? - those nights, the mere thought of which fires mybrain, and consumes my blood."He was horrible to look at, horrible and ridiculous at the sametime. As he wished to take Mme. de Thaller's hands, she steppedback, and he followed her, dragging himself on his knees.
Where could you find, he continued, "a man to worship you like me,with an ardent, absolute, blind, mad passion? With what can youreproach me? Have I not sacrificed to you without a murmur everything that a man can sacrifice here below, - fortune, family, honor,- to supply your extravagance, to anticipate your slightest fancies,to give you gold to scatter by the handful. Did I not leave my ownfamily struggling with poverty. I would have snatched bread frommy children's mouths in order to purchase roses to scatter underyour footsteps. And for years did ever a word from me betray thesecret of our love? What have I not endured? You deceived me. Iknew it, and I said nothing. Upon a word from you I stepped asidebefore him whom your caprice made happy for a day. You told me,'Steal!' and I stole. You told me, 'Kill!' and I tried to kill.""Fly. A man who has twelve hundred thousand francs in gold,bank-notes, and good securities, can always get along.""And my wife and children?""Maxence is old enough to help his mother. Gilberte will find ahusband: depend upon it. Besides, what's to prevent you fromsending them money?""They would refuse it.""You will always be a fool, my dear!"To Vincent Favoral's first stupor and miserable weakness nowsucceeded a terrible passion. All the blood had left his face:
his eyes was flashing.
Then," he resumed, "all is really over?""Of course.""Then I have been duped like the rest, - like that poor Marquis deTregars, whom you had made mad also. But he, at least saved hishonor; whereas I - And I have no excuse; for I should have known.
I knew that you were but the bait which the Baron de Thaller heldout to his victims."He waited for an answer; but she maintained a contemptuous silence.
Then you think, he said with a threatening laugh, "that it willall end that way?""What can you do?""There is such a thing as justice, I imagine, and judges too. I cangive myself up, and reveal every thing."She shrugged her shoulders.
That would be throwing yourself into the wolf's mouth for nothing,she said. "You know better than any one else that my precautionsare well enough taken to defy any thing you can do or say. I havenothing to fear.""Are you quite sure of that?""Trust to me," she said with a smile of perfect security.
The former cashier of the Mutual Credit made a terrible gesture; but,checking himself at once, he seized one of the baroness's hands.
She withdrew it quickly, however, and, in an accent of insurmountabledisgust,"Enough, enough!" she said.
In the adjoining closet Marius de Tregars could feel Mme. ZelieCadelle shuddering by his side.
What a wretch that woman is! she murmured; "and he - what a basecoward!"The former cashier remained prostrated striking the floor with hishead.
And you would forsake me, he groaned, "when we are united by apast such as ours! How could you replace me? Where would you finda slave so devoted to your every wish?"The baroness was getting impatient.
Stop! she interrupted, - "stop these demonstrations as uselessas ridiculous."This time he did start up, as if lashed with a whip and, doublelocking the door which communicated with the ante-chamber, he putthe key in his pocket; and, with a step as stiff and mechanical asthat of an automaton, he disappeared in the sleeping-room.
He is going for a weapon, whispered Mme. Cadelle.
It was also what Marius thought.
Run down quick, he said to Mme. Zelie. "In a cab standingopposite No.25, you will find Mlle. Gilberte Favoral waiting. Lether come at once."And, rushing into the parlor,"Fly!" he said to Mme. Thaller.
But she was as petrified by this apparition.
M. de Tregars!"Yes, yes, me. But hurry and go!And he pushed her into the closet.
It was but time. Vincent Favoral reappeared upon the threshold ofthe bedroom. But, if it was a weapon he had gone for, it was notfor the one which Marius and Mme. Cadelle supposed. It was a bundleof papers which he held in his hand. Seeing M. de Tregars there,instead of Mme. de Thaller, an exclamation of terror and surpriserose to his lips. He understood vaguely what must have taken place;that the man who stood there must have been concealed in the glasscloset, and that he had assisted the baroness to escape.
Ah the miserable wretch! he stammered with a tongue made thickby passion, "the infamous wretch! She has betrayed me; she hassurrendered me. I am lost!"Mastering the most terrible emotion he had ever felt,"No, no! you shall not be surrendered," uttered M. de Tregars.
Collecting all the energy that the devouring passion which hadblasted his existence had left him, the former cashier of theMutual Credit took one or two steps forward.
Who are you, then? he asked.
Do you not know me? I am the son of that unfortunate Marquis deTregars of whom you spoke a moment since. I am Lucienne's brother.Like a man who has received a stunning blow, Vincent Favoral sankheavily upon a chair.
He knows all, he groaned.
Yes, all!"You must hate me mortally."I pity you.The old cashier had reached that point when all the faculties, afterbeing strained to their utmost limits, suddenly break down, whenthe strongest man gives up, and weeps like a child.
Ah, I am the most wretched of villains! he exclaimed.
He had hid his face in his hands; and in one second, - as it happens,they say, to the dying on the threshold of eternity, - he reviewedhis entire existence.
And yet, he said, "I had not the soul of a villain. I wanted toget rich; but honestly, by labor, and by rigid economy. And Ishould have succeeded. I had a hundred and fifty thousand francsof my own when I met the Baron de Thaller. Alas! why did I meethim? 'Twas he who first gave me to understand that it was stupidto work and save, when, at the bourse, with moderate luck, one mightbecome a millionaire in six months."He stopped, shook his head, and suddenly,"Do you know the Baron de Thaller?" he asked. And, without givingMarius time to answer,"He is a German," he went on, "a Prussian. His father was acab-driver in Berlin, and his mother waiting-maid in a brewery. Atthe age of eighteen, he was compelled to leave his country, owingto some petty swindle, and came to take up his residence in Paris.
He found employment in the office of a stock-broker, and was livingvery poorly, when he made the acquaintance of a young laundressnamed Affrays, who had for a lover a very wealthy gentleman, theMarquis de Tregars, whose weakness was to pass himself off for apoor clerk. Affrays and Thaller were well calculated to agree.
They did agree, and formed an association, - she contributing herbeauty; he, his genius for intrigue; both, their corruption andtheir vices. Soon after they met, she gave birth to a child, adaughter; whom she intrusted to some poor gardeners at Louveciennes,with the firm and settled intention to leave her there forever.
And yet it was upon this daughter, whom they firmly hoped never tosee again, that the two accomplices were building their fortune.
It was in the name of that daughter that Affrays wrungconsiderable sums from the Marquis de Tregars. As soon as Thallerand she found themselves in possession of six hundred thousandfrancs, they dismissed the marquis, and got married. Already, atthat time, Thaller had taken the title of baron, and lived in somestyle. But his first speculations were not successful. Therevolution of 1848 finished his ruin, and he was about being expelledfrom the bourse, when he found me on his way, - I, poor fool, whowas going about everywhere, asking how I could advantageously investmy hundred and fifty thousand francs.He was speaking in a hoarse voice, shaking his clinched fist in theair, doubtless at the Baron de Thaller.
Unfortunately, he resumed, "it was only much later that Idiscovered all this. At the moment, M. de Thaller dazzled me. Hisfriends, Saint Pavin and the bankers Jottras, proclaimed him thesmartest and the most honest man in France. Still I would not havegiven my money, if it had not been for the baroness. The first timethat I was introduced to her, and that she fixed upon me her greatblack eyes, I felt myself moved to the deepest recesses of my soul.
In order to see her again, I invited her, together with her husbandand her husband's friends, to dine with me, by the side of my wifeand children. She came. Her husband made me sign every thing hepleased; but, as she went off, she pressed my hand."He was still shuddering at the recollection of it, the poor fellow!
The next day, he went on, "I handed to Thaller all I had in theworld; and, in exchange, he gave me the position of cashier in theMutual Credit, which he had just founded. He treated me like aninferior, and did not admit me to visit his family. But I didn'tcare: the baroness had permitted me to see her again, and almostevery afternoon I met her at the Tuileries; and I had made bold totell her that I loved her to desperation. At last, one evening,she consented to make an appointment with me for the secondfollowing day, in an apartment which I bad rented.
"The day before I was to meet her, and whilst I was beside myselfwith joy, the Baron de Thaller requested me to assist him, bymeans of certain irregular entries, to conceal a deficit arisingfrom unsuccessful speculations. How could I refuse a man, whom,as I thought, I was about to deceive grossly! I did as he wished. The next day Mme. de Thaller became my mistress; and I was a lostman.Was he trying to exculpate himself? Was he merely yielding to thatimperious sentiment, more powerful than the will or the reason,which impels the criminal to reveal the secret which oppresses him?
"From that day, he went on, "began for me the torment of thatdouble existence which I underwent for years. I had given to mymistress all I had in the world; and she was insatiable. Shewanted money always, any way, and in heaps. She made me buy thehouse in the Rue du Cirque for our meetings; and, between thedemands of the husband and those of the wife, I was almost insane.
I drew from the funds of the Mutual Credit as from an inexhaustiblemine; and, as I foresaw that some day must come when all would bediscovered, I always carried about me a loaded revolver, withwhich to blow out my brains when they came to arrest me."And he showed to Marius the handle of a revolverprotruding from his pocket.
And if only she had been faithful to me! he continued, becomingmore and more animated. "But what have I not endured! When theMarquis de Tregars returned to Paris, and they set about defraudinghim of his fortune, she did not hesitate a moment to become hismistress again. She used to tell me, 'What a fool you are! allI want is his money. I love no one but you.' But after his deathshe took others. She made use of our house in the Rue du Cirquefor purposes of dissipation for herself and her daughter Cesarine.
And I - miserable coward that I was! - I suffered all, so muchdid I tremble to lose her, so much did I fear to be weaned fromthe semblance of love with which she paid my fearful sacrifices.
And now she would betray me, forsake me! For every thing that hastaken place was suggested by her in order to procure a sum wherewithto fly to America. It was she who imagined the wretched comedywhich I played, so as to throw upon myself the whole responsibility.
M. de Thaller has had millions for his share: I have only had twelvehundred thousand francs."Violent nervous shudders shook his frame: his face became purple.
He drew himself up, and, brandishing the letters which he held inhis hand,"But all is not over!" he exclaimed. "There are proofs whichneither the baron nor his wife know that I have. I have the proofof the infamous swindle of which the Marquis de Tregars was thevictim. I have the proof of the farce got up by M. de Thaller andmyself to defraud the stockholders of the Mutual Credit!
What do you hope for?He was laughing a stupid laugh.
"I? I shall go and hide myself in some suburb of Paris, and writeto Affrays to come. She knows that I have twelve hundred thousandfrancs. She will come; and she will keep coming as long as I haveany money. And when I have no more: He stopped short, starting back, his arms outstretched as if torepel a terrifying apparition. Mlle. Gilberte had just appearedat the door. My daughter!"" stammered the wretch. ""Gilberte!""""The Marquise de Tregars,"" uttered Marius.
"An inexpressible look of terror and anguish convulsed the featuresof Vincent Favoral: he guessed that it was the end.
What do you want with me? he stammered.
The money that you have stolen, father, replied the girl in aninexorable tone of voice,-" the twelve hundred thousand francs whichyou have here, then the proofs which are in your hands, and, finallyyour weapons."He was trembling from head to foot.
Take away my money! he said. "Why, that would be compelling meto give myself up! Do you wish to see me in prison?""The disgrace would fall back upon your children, sir," said M. deTregars. "We shall, on the contrary, do every thing in the worldto enable you to evade the pursuit of the police.""Well, yes, then. But to-morrow I must write to Affrays: I mustsee her!""You have lost your mind, father," said Mlle. Gilberte. "Come, doas I ask you."He drew himself up to his full height.
And suppose I refuse?But it was the last effort of his will. He yielded, though notwithout an agonizing struggle and gave up to his daughter themoney, the proofs and the arms. And as she was walking away,leaning on M. de Tregars' arm,"But send me your mother, at least," he begged. "She willunderstand me: she will not be without pity. She is my wife: lether come quick. I will not, I can not remain alone."
It was with convulsive haste that the Baroness de Thaller went overthe distance that separated the Rue St. Lazare from the Rue de laPepiniere. The sudden intervention of M. de Tregars had upset allher ideas. The most sinister presentiments agitated her mind. Inthe courtyard of her residence, all the servants, gathered in agroup, were talking. They did not take the trouble to stand asideto let her pass; and she even noticed some smiles and ironicalgigglings. This was a terrible blow to her. What was the matter?
What had they heard? In the magnificent vestibule, a man wassitting as she came in. It was the same suspicious character thatMarius de Tregars had seen in the grand parlor, in close conferencewith the baroness.
Bad news. he said with a sheepish look.
What?"That little Lucienne must have her soul riveted to her body. Sheis only wounded; and she'll get over it."Never mind Lucienne. What about M. de Tregars?"Oh! he is another sharp one. Instead of taking up our man'sprovocation, he collared him, and took away from him the note Ihad sent him.Mme. de Thaller started violently..
What is the meaning, then, she asked, "of your letter of lastnight, in which you requested me to hand two thousand francs tothe bearer?"The man became pale as death.
You received a letter from me, he stammered, "last night?""Yes, from you; and I gave the money."The man struck his forehead.
I understand it all! he exclaimed.
What?"They wanted proofs. They imitated my handwriting, and you swallowedthe bait. That's the reason why I spent the night in thestation-house; and, if they let me go this morning, it was to findout where I'd go. I have been followed, they are shadowing me. Weare gone up, Mme. le Baronne. Sauve qui peut!And he ran out.
More agitated than ever Mme. de Thaller went up stairs. In thelittle red-and-gold parlor, the Baron de Thaller and Mlle. Cesarinewere waiting for her. Stretched upon an arm-chair, her legs crossed,the tip of her boot on a level with her eye, Mlle. Cesarine, witha look of ironical curiosity, was watching her father, who, lividand trembling with nervous excitement, was walking up and down, likea wild beast in his cage. As soon as the baroness appeared,"Things are going badly," said her husband, "very badly. Our gameis devilishly compromised.""You think so?""I am but too sure of it. Such a well-combined stroke too! Butevery thing is against us. In presence of the examining magistrate,Jottras held out well; but Saint Pavin spoke. That dirty rascalwas not satisfied with the share allotted to him. On theinformation furnished by him, Costeclar was arrested this morning.
And Costeclar knows all, since he has been your confidant, VincentFavoral's, and my own. When a man has, like him, two or threeforgeries in his record, he is sure to speak. He will speak.
Perhaps he has already done so, since the police has takenpossession of Latterman's office, with whom I had organized thepanic and the tumble in the Mutual Credit stock. What can we doto ward off this blow?"With a surer glance than her husband, Mme. de Thaller had measuredthe situation.
Do not try to ward it off, she replied: "It would be useless.""Because?""Because M. de Tregars has found Vincent Favoral; because, at thisvery moment, they are together, arranging their plans."The baron made a terrible gesture.
Ab, thunder and lightning! he exclaimed. "I always told you thatthis stupid fool, Favoral, would cause our ruin. It was so easyfor you to find an occasion for him to blow his brains out.""Was it so difficult for you to accept, M. de Tregars' offers?""It was you who made me refuse.""Was it me, too, who was so anxious to get rid of Lucienne?"For years, Mlle. Cesarine had not seemed so amused; and, in a halfwhisper, she was humming the famous tune, from "The Pearl ofPoutoise,""Happy accord! Happy couple!"M. de Thaller, beside himself, was advancing to seize the baroness:
she was drawing back, knowing him, perhaps to be capable of anything, when suddenly there was a violent knocking at the door.
In the name of the law!It was a commissary of police.
And, whilst surrounded by agents, they were taken to a cab.
Orphan on both sides! exclaimed Mlle. Cesarine, "I am free, then.
Now we'll have some fun!"At that very moment, M. de Tregars and Mlle. Gilberte reached theRue St. Giles.
Hearing that her husband had been found,"I must see him!" exclaimed Mme. Favoral.
And, in spite of any thing they could tell her, she threw a shawlover her shoulders, and started with Mlle. Gilberte.
When they had entered Mme. Zelie's apartment, of which they had akey, they found in the parlor, with his back towards them, VincentFavoral sitting at the table, leaning forward, and apparentlywriting. Mme. Favoral approached on tiptoe, and over her husband'sshoulder she read what he had just written,"Affrays, my beloved, eternally-adored mistress, will you forgiveme? The money that I was keeping for you, my darling, the proofswhich will crush your husband - they have taken every thing from me,basely, by force. And it is my daughter - "He had stopped there. Surprised at his immobility, Mme. Favoralcalled,"Vincent!"He made no answer. She pushed him with her finger. He rolled tothe ground. He was dead.
Three months later the great Mutual Credit suit was tried beforethe Sixth Court. The scandal was great; but public curiosity wasstrangely disappointed. As in most of these financial affairs,justice, whilst exposing the most audacious frauds, was not ableto unravel the true secret.
She managed, at least, to lay hands upon every thing that theBaron de Thaller had hoped to save. That worthy was condemned tofive years' prison; M. Costeclar got off with three years; and M.
Jottras with two. M. Saint Pavin was acquitted.
Arrested for subornation of murder, the former Marquise de Javellethe Baroness de Thaller, was released for want of proper proof. But,implicated in the suit against her husband, she lost three-fourthsof her fortune, and is now living with her daughter, whose debut isannounced at the Bouffes-Parisiens, or at the Delassements-Comiques.
Already, before that time, Mlle. Lucienne, completely restored, hadmarried Maxence Favoral.
Of the five hundred thousand francs which were returned to her, sheapplied three hundred thousand to discharge the debts of herfather-in-law, and with the rest she induced her husband to emigrateto America. Paris had become odious to both.
Marius and Mlle. Gilberte, who has now become Marquise de Tregars,have taken up their residence at the Chateau de Tregars, threeleagues from Quimper. They have been followed in their retreat byMme. Favoral and by General Count de Vil1egre.
The greater portion of his father's fortune, Marius had applied topay off all the personal creditors of the former cashier of theMutual Credit, all the trades-people, and also M. Chapelain, oldman Desormeaux, and M. and Mme. Desclavettes.
All that is left to the Marquis and Marquise de Tregars is sometwenty thousand francs a year, and if they ever lose them, it willnot be at the bourse.
The Mutual Credit is quoted at 467.25!
Mme. Favoral spoke from experience. She had learned, to her cost,that the whistle of her husband, more surely than the shriek of thestormy petrel, announces the storm. - And she had that evening morereasons than usual to fear. Breaking from all his habits, M. Favoralhad not come home to dinner, and had sent one of the clerks of theMutual Credit Society to say that they should not wait for him.
Soon his latch-key grated in the lock; the door swung open; he camein; and, seeing his son:
Well, I am glad to find you here, he exclaimed with a giggle, whichwith him was the utmost expression of anger.
Mme. Favoral shuddered. Still under the impression of the scenewhich had just taken place, his heart heavy, and his eyes full oftears, Maxence did not answer.
It is doubtless a wager, resumed the father, "and you wish to knowhow far my patience may go.
I do not understand you, stammered the young man.
The money that you used to get, I know not where, doubtless failsyou now, or at least is no longer sufficient, and you go on makingdebts right and left - at the tailor's, the shirt maker's, thejeweler's. Of course, it's simple enough. We earn nothing; butwe wish to dress in the latest style, to wear a gold chain acrossour vest, and then we make dupes."I have never made any dupes, father."Bah! And what, then, do you call all these people who came thisvery day to present me their bills? For they did dare to come tomy office! They had agreed to come together, expecting thus tointimidate me more easily. I told them that you were of age, andthat your business was none of mine. Hearing this, they becameinsolent, and commenced speaking so loud, that their voices couldbe heard in the adjoining rooms. At that very moment, the manager,M. de Thaller, happened to be passing through the hall. Hearingthe noise of a discussion, he thought that I was having somedifficulty with some of our stockholders, and he came in, as hehad a right to. Then I was compelled to confess everything.He became excited at the sound of his words, like a horse at thejingle of his bells. And, more and more beside himself:
That is just what your creditors wished, he pursued. "Theythought I would be afraid of a row, and that I would 'come down.'
It is a system of blackmailing, like any other. An account isopened to some young rascal; and, when the amount is reasonablylarge, they take it to the family, saying, 'Money, or I make row.'
Do you think it is to you, who are penniless, that they give credit?
It's on my pocket that they were drawing, - on my pocket, becausethey believed me rich. They sold you at exorbitant prices everything they wished; and they relied on me to pay for trousers atninety francs, shirts at forty francs, and watches at six hundredfrancs."Contrary to his habit, Maxence did not offer any denial.
I expect to pay all I owe, he said.
You!"I give my word I will!"And with what, pray?"With my salary."You have a salary, then?Maxence blushed.
I have what I earn at my employer's."What employer?"The architect in whose office M. Chapelain helped me to find aplace.With a threatening gesture, M. Favoral interrupted him.
Spare me your lies, he uttered. "I am better posted than yousuppose. I know, that, over a month ago, your employer, tired ofyour idleness, dismissed you in disgrace."Disgrace was superfluous. The fact was, that Maxence, returningto work after an absence of five days, had found another in hisplace.
I shall find another place, he said.
M. Favoral shrugged his shoulders with a movement of rage.
And in the mean time, he said, "I shall have to pay. Do you knowwhat your creditors threaten to do? - to commence a suit against me.
They would lose it, of course, they know it; but they hope that Iwould yield before a scandal. And this is not all: they talk ofentering a criminal complaint. They pretend that you haveaudaciously swindled them; that the articles you purchased of themwere not at all for your own use, but that you sold them as fast asyou got them, at any price you could obtain, to raise ready money.
The jeweler has proofs, he says, that you went straight from hisshop to the pawnbroker's, and pledged a watch and chain which hehad just sold you. It is a police matter. They said all that inpresence of my superior officer - in presence of M. de Thaller. Ihad to get the janitor to put them out. But, after they had left,M. de Thaller gave me to understand that he wished me very much tosettle everything. And he is right. My consideration could notresist another such scene. What confidence can be placed in acashier whose son behaves in this manner? How can a key of a safecontaining millions be left with a man whose son would have beendragged into the police-courts? In a word, I am at your mercy.
In a word, my honor, my position, my fortune, rest upon you. Asoften as it may please you to make debts, you can make them, andI shall be compelled to pay."Gathering all his courage:
You have been sometimes very harsh with me, father, commencedMaxence; "and yet I will not try to justify my conduct. I swear toyou, that hereafter you shall have nothing to fear from me.""I fear nothing," uttered M. Favoral with a sinister smile. "Iknow the means of placing myself beyond the reach of your follies- and I shall use them.""I assure you, father, that I have taken a firm resolution.""Oh! you may dispense with your periodical repentance."Mlle. Gilberte stepped forward.
I'll stand warrant, she said, "for Maxence's resolutions."Her father did not permit her to proceed.
Enough, he interrupted somewhat harshly. "Mind your own business,Gilberte! I have to speak to you too.""To me, father.""Yes."He walked up and down three or four times through the parlor, as ifto calm his irritation. Then planting himself straight before hisdaughter, his arms folded across his breast:
You are eighteen years of age, he said; "that is to say, it istime to think of your marriage. An excellent match offers itself."She shuddered, stepped back, and, redder than a peony:
A match! she repeated in a tone of immense surprise.
Yes, and which suits me."But I do not wish to marry, father."All young girls say the same thing; and, as soon as a pretenderoffers himself, they are delighted. Mine is a fellow of twenty-six,quite good looking, amiable, witty, and who has had the greatestsuccess in society."Father, I assure you that I do not wish to leave mother."Of course not. He is an intelligent, hard-working man, destined,everybody says, to make an immense fortune. Although he is richalready, for he holds a controlling interest in a stock-broker'sfirm, he works as hard as any poor devil. I would not be surprisedto hear that he makes half a million of francs a year. His wifewill have her carriage, her box at the opera, diamonds, and dressesas handsome as Mlle. de Thaller's."Eh! What do I care for such things?"It's understood. I'll present him to you on Saturday.But Mlle. Gilberte was not one of those young girls who allowthemselves, through weakness or timidity, to become engaged, and sofar engaged, that later, they can no longer withdraw. A discussionbeing unavoidable, she preferred to have it out at once.
A presentation is absolutely useless, father, she declaredresolutely.
Because?"I have told you that I did not wish to marry."But if it is my will?"I am ready to obey you in every thing except that."In that as in every thing else, interrupted the cashier of theMutual Credit in a thundering voice.
And, casting upon his wife and children a glance full of defianceand threats:
In that, as in every thing else, he repeated, "because I am themaster; and I shall prove it. Yes, I will prove it; for I am tiredto see my family leagued against my authority."And out he went, slamming the door so violently, that the partitionsshook.
You are wrong to resist your father thus, murmured the weak Mme.
Favoral.
The fact is, that the poor woman could not understand why herdaughter refused the only means at her command to break off withher miserable existence.
Let him present you this young man, she said. "You might likehim."" I am sure I shall not like him."She said this in such a tone, that the light suddenly flashed uponMme. Favoral's mind.
Heavens! she murmured. "Gilberte, my darling child, have you thena secret which your mother does not know?"
Yes, Mlle. Gilberte had her secret - a very simple one, though,chaste, like herself, and one of those which, as the old women say,must cause the angels to rejoice.
The spring of that year having been unusually mild, Mlle. Favoraland her daughter had taken the habit of going daily to breathe thefresh air in the Place Royale. They took their work with them,crotchet or knitting; so that this salutary exercise did not in anyway diminish the earnings of the week. It was during these walksthat Mlle. Gilberte had at last noticed a young man, unknown to her,whom she met every day at the same place.
Tall and robust, he had a grand look, notwithstanding his modestclothes, the exquisite neatness of which betrayed a sort ofrespectable poverty. He wore his full beard; and his proud andintelligent features were lighted up by a pair of large black eyes,of those eyes whose straight and clear look disconcerts hypocritesand knaves.
He never failed, as he passed by Mlle. Gilberte, to look down, orturn his head slightly away; and in spite of this, in spite of theexpression of respect which she had detected upon his face, shecould not help blushing.
Which is absurd, she thought; "for after all, what on earth do Icare for that young man?"The infallible instinct, which is the experience of inexperiencedyoung girls, told her that it was not chance alone that broughtthis stranger in her way. But she wished to make sure of it. Shemanaged so well, that each day of the following week, the hour oftheir walk was changed. Sometimes they went out at noon, sometimesafter four o'clock.
But, whatever the hour, Mlle. Gilberte, as she turned the corner ofthe Rue des Minimes, noticed her unknown admirer under the arcades,looking in some shop-window, and watching out of the corner of hiseye. As soon as she appeared, he left his post, and hurried fastenough to meet her at the gate of the Place.
It is a persecution, thought Mlle. Gilberte.
How, then, had she not spoken of it to her mother? Why had she notsaid any thing to her the day, when, happening, to look out of thewindow, she saw her "persecutor" passing before the house, or,evidently looking in her direction?
Am I losing my mind? she thought, seriously irritated againstherself. "I will not think of him any more."And yet she was thinking of him, when one afternoon, as her motherand herself were working, sitting upon a bench, she saw the strangercome and sit down not far from them. He was accompanied by anelderly man with long white mustaches, and wearing the rosetteof the Legion of Honor.
This is an insolence, thought the young girl, whilst seeking apretext to ask her mother to change their seats.
But already had the young man and his elderly friend seatedthemselves, and so arranged their chairs, that Mlle. Gilberte couldnot miss a word of what they were about to say. It was the youngman who spoke first.
You know me as well as I know myself, my dear count, he commenced- "you who were my poor father's best friend, you who dandled meupon your knees when I was a child, and who has never lost sight ofme.""Which is to say, my boy, that I answer for you as for myself," putin the old man. "But go on.""I am twenty-six years old. My name is Yves-Marius-Genost de Tregars.
My family, which is one of the oldest of Brittany, is allied to allthe great families.""Perfectly exact," remarked the old gentleman.
Unfortunately, my fortune is not on a par with my nobility. Whenmy mother died, in 1856, my father, who worshiped her, could nolonger bear, in the intensity of his grief, to remain at the Chateaude Tregars where he had spent his whole life. He came to Paris,which he could well afford, since we were rich then, butunfortunately, made acquaintances who soon inoculated him with thefever of the age. They proved to him that he was mad to keep landswhich barely yielded him forty thousand francs a year, and which hecould easily sell for two millions; which amount, invested merelyat five per cent, would yield him an income of one hundred thousandfrancs. He therefore sold every thing, except our patrimonialhomestead on the road from Quimper to Audierne, and rushed intospeculations. He was rather lucky at first. But he was too honestand too loyal to be lucky long. An operation in which he becameinterested early in 1869 turned out badly. His associates becamerich; but he, I know not how, was ruined, and came near beingcompromised. He died of grief a month later.The old soldier was nodding his assent.
Very well, my boy, he said. "But you are too modest; and there'sa circumstance which you neglect. You had a right, when your fatherbecame involved in these troubles, to claim and retain your mother'sfortune; that is, some thirty thousand francs a year. Not only youdid not do so; but you gave up every thing to his creditors. Yousold the domain of Tregars, except the old castle and its park, andpaid over the proceeds to them; so that, if your father did dieruined, at least he did not owe a cent. And yet you knew, as wellas myself, that your father had been deceived and swindled by a lotof scoundrels who drive their carriages now, and who, perhaps, ifthe courts were applied to, might still be made to disgorge theirill-gotten plunder."Her head bent upon her tapestry, Mlle. Gilberte seemed to be workingwith incomparable zeal. The truth is, she knew not how to concealthe blushes on her cheeks, and the trembling of her hands. She hadsomething like a cloud before her eyes; and she drove her needle atrandom. She scarcely preserved enough presence of mind to reply toMme. Favoral, who, not noticing any thing, spoke to her from time totime.
Indeed, the meaning of this scene was too clear to escape her.
They have had an understanding, she thought, "and it is for mealone that they are speaking."Meantime, Marius de Tregars was going on:
"I should lie, my old friend, were I to say that I was indifferentto our ruin. Philosopher though one may be, it is not without somepangs that one passes from a sumptuous hotel to a gloomy garret. But what grieved me most of all was that I saw myself compelledto give up the labors which had been the joy of my life, and uponwhich I had founded the most magnificent hopes. A positive vocation,stimulated further by the accidents of my education, had led me tothe study of physical sciences. For several years, I had applied allI have of intelligence and energy to certain investigations inelectricity. To convert electricity into an incomparablemotive-power which would supersede steam, - such was the object Ipursued without pause. Already, as you know, although quite young,I had obtained results which had attracted some attention in thescientific world. I thought I could see the last of a problem, thesolution of which would change the face of the globe. Ruin was thedeath of my hopes, the total loss of the fruits of my labors; formy experiments were costly, and it required money, much money, topurchase the products which were indispensable to me, and toconstruct the machines which I contrived. And I was about being compelled to earn my daily bread.
" "I was on the verge of despair, when I met a man whom I had formerlyseen at my father's, and who had seemed to take some interest in myresearches, a speculator named Marcolet. But it is not at the boursethat he operates. Industry is the field of his labors. Ever on thelookout for those obstinate inventors who are starving to death intheir garrets, he appears to them at the hour of supreme crisis: hepities them, encourages them, consoles them, helps them, and almostalways succeeds in becoming the owner of their discovery. Sometimeshe makes a mistake; and then all he has to do is to put a fewthousand francs to the debit of profit or loss. But, if he hasjudged right, then he counts his profits by hundreds of thousands;and how many patents does he work thus! Of how many inventions doeshe reap the results which are a fortune, and the inventors ofwhich have no shoes to wear! Every thing is good to him; and hedefends with the same avidity a cough - sirup, the formula ofwhich he has purchased of some poor devil of a druggist, and animprovement to the steam-engine, the patent for which has been soldto him by an engineer of genius. And yet Marcolet is not a bad man. Seeing my situation, he offered me a certain yearly sum to undertakesome studies of industrial chemistry which he indicated to me. Iaccepted; and the very next day I hired a small basement in the Ruedes Tournelles, where I set up my laboratory, and went to work atonce. That was a year ago. Marcolet must be satisfied. I havealready found for him a new shade for dyeing silk, the cost priceof which is almost nothing. As to me, I have lived with thestrictest economy, devoting all my surplus earnings to theprosecution of the problem, the solution of which would give meboth glory and fortune.Palpitating with inexpressible emotion, Mlle. Gilberte was listeningto this young man, unknown to her a few moments since, and whosewhole history she now knew as well as if she had always lived nearhim; for it never occurred to her to suspect his sincerity.
"No voice had ever vibrated to her ear like this voice, whose gravesonorousness stirred within her strange sensations, and legions ofthoughts which she had never suspected. She was surprised at theaccent of simplicity with which he spoke of the illustriousness ofhis family, of his past opulence, of his obscure labors, and of hisexalted hopes.
She admired the superb disregard for money which beamed forth in hisevery word. Here was then one man, at least, who despised thatmoney before which she had hitherto seen all the people she knewprostrated in abject worship.
After a pause of a few moments, Marius de Tregars, still addressinghimself apparently to his aged companion, went on:
"I repeat it, because it is the truth, my old friend, this life oflabor and privation, so new to me, was not a burden. Calm, silence,the constant exercise of all the faculties of the intellect, havecharms which the vulgar can never suspect. I was happy to think,that, if I was ruined, it was through an act of my own will. I founda positive pleasure in the fact that I, the Marquis de Tregars, whohad had a hundred thousand a year - I must the next moment go out inperson to the baker's and the green-grocer's to purchase my suppliesfor the day. I was proud to think that it was to my labor alone, tothe work for which I was paid by Marcolet, that I owed the means ofprosecuting my task. And, from the summits where I was carried onthe wings of science, I took pity on your modern existence, on thatridiculous and tragical medley of passions, interests, and cravings;that struggle without truce or mercy, whose law is, woe to the weak,in which whosoever falls is trampled under feet. Sometimes, however, like a fire that has been smouldering underthe ashes, the flame of youthful passions blazed up within me. Ihad hours of madness, of discouragement, of distress, during whichsolitude was loathsome to me. But I had the faith which raisesmountains - faith in myself and my work. And soon, tranquilized, Iwould go to sleep in the purple of hope, beholding in the vista ofthe distant future the triumphal arches erected to my success.
" "Such was my situation, when, one afternoon in the month of Februarylast, after an experiment upon which I had founded great hopes, andwhich had just miserably failed, I came here to breathe a littlefresh air. It was a beautiful spring day, warm and sunny. The sparrows werechirping on the branches, swelled with sap: bands of children wererunning along the alleys, filling the air with their joyous screams.
" "I was sitting upon a bench, ruminating over the causes of my failure,when two ladies passed by me; one somewhat aged, the other quiteyoung. They were walking so rapidly, that I hardly had time tosee them. But the young lady's step, the noble simplicity of her carriage,had struck me so much, that I rose to follow her with the intentionof passing her, and then walking back to have a good view of herface. I did so; and I was fairly dazzled. At the moment when myeyes met hers, a voice rose within me, crying that it was all overnow, and that my destiny was fixed.""""I remember, my dear boy,"" remarked the old soldier in a tone offriendly raillery; ""for you came to see me that night, and I hadnot seen you for months before.""Marius proceeded without heeding the remark.
" "And yet you know that I am not the man to yield to first impression. I struggled: with determined energy I strove to drive off thatradiant image which I carried within my soul, which left me no more,which haunted me in the midst of my studies. Vain efforts. My thoughts obeyed me no longer - my will escapedmy control. It was indeed one of those passions that fill the wholebeing, overpower all, and which make of life an ineffable felicityor a nameless torture, according that they are reciprocated, or not.
"How many days I spent there, waiting and watching for her of whom Ihad thus had a glimpse, and who ignored my very existence! And whatinsane palpitations, when, after hours of consuming anxiety, I sawat the corner of the street the undulating folds of her dress! Isaw her thus often, and always with the same elderly person, hermother. They had adopted in this square a particular bench, wherethey sat daily, working at their sewing with an assiduity and zealwhich made me think that they lived upon the product of their labor."Here he was suddenly interrupted by his companion. The old gentlemanfeared that Mme. Favoral's attention might at last be attracted bytoo direct allusions.
Take care, boy! he whispered, not so low, however, but whatGilberte overheard him.
But it would have required much more than this to draw Mme. Favoralfrom her sad thoughts. She had just finished her band of tapestry;and, grieving to lose a moment:
It is perhaps time to go home, she said to her daughter. "I havenothing more to do."Mlle. Gilberte drew from her basket a piece of canvas, and, handingit to her mother:
Here is enough to go on with, mamma," she said in a troubled voice.
Let us stay a little while longer.And, Mme. Favoral having resumed her work, Marius proceeded:
"The thought that she whom I loved was poor delighted me. Was notthis similarity of positions a link between us? I felt a childishjoy to think that I would work for her and for her mother, and thatthey would be indebted to me for their ease and comfort in life. But I am not one of those dreamers who confide their destiny to thewings of a chimera. Before undertaking any thing, I resolved toinform myself. Alas! at the first words that I heard, all my finedreams took wings. I heard that she was rich, very rich. I wastold that her father was one of those men whose rigid probitysurrounds itself with austere and harsh forms. He owed his fortune,I was assured, to his sole labor, but also to prodigies of economyand the most severe privations. He professed a worship, they said,for that gold that had cost him so much; and he would never give thehand of his daughter to a man who had no money. This last commentwas useless. Above my actions, my thoughts, my hopes, higher thanall, soars my pride. Instantly I saw an abyss opening between meand her whom I love more than my life, but less than my dignity.
"When a man's name is Genost de Tregars, he must support his wife,were it by breaking stones. And the thought that I owed my fortuneto the woman I married would make me execrate her.
"You must remember, my old friend, that I told you all this at thetime. You thought, too, that it was singularly impertinent, on mypart, thus to flare up in advance, because, certainly a millionairedoes not give his daughter to a ruined nobleman in the pay ofMarcolet, the patent-broker, to a poor devil of an inventor, who isbuilding the castles of his future upon the solution of a problemwhich has been given up by the most brilliant minds. It was then that I determined upon an extreme resolution, afoolish one, no doubt, and yet to which you, the Count de Villegre,my father's old friend, you have consented to lend yourself.
" "I thought that I would address myself to her, to her alone, andthat she would at least know what great, what immense love she hadinspired. I thought I would go to her and tell her, 'This is whoI am, and what I am. For mercy's sake, grant me a respite of threeyears. To a love such as mine there is nothing impossible. Inthree years I shall be dead, or rich enough to ask your hand. Fromthis day forth, I give up my task for work of more immediate profit. The arts of industry have treasures for successful inventors. Ifyou could only read in my soul, you would not refuse me the delay Iam asking. Forgive me! One word, for mercy's sake, only one! Itis my sentence that I am awaiting.'Mlle. Gilberte's thoughts were in too great a state of confusionto permit her to think of being offended at this extraordinaryproceeding. She rose, quivering, and addressing herself to Mme.
"Favoral:
Come, mother, she said, "come: I feel that I have taken cold.
I must go home and think. To-morrow, yes, to-morrow, we will comeagain.
Deep as Mme. Favoral was plunged in her meditations, and a thousandmiles as she was from the actual situation, it was impossible thatshe should not notice the intense excitement under which her daughterlabored, the alteration of her features, and the incoherence of herwords.
What is the matter? she asked, somewhat alarmed. "What are yousaying?""I feel unwell," answered her daughter in a scarcely audible voice,"quite unwell. Come, let us go home."As soon as they reached home, Mlle. Gilberte took refuge in her ownroom. She was in haste to be alone, to recover her self-possession,to collect her thoughts, more scattered than dry leaves by a stormwind.
It was a momentous event which had just suddenly fallen in her lifeso monotonous and so calm - an inconceivable, startling event, theconsequences of which were to weigh heavily upon her entire future.
Staggering still, she was asking herself if she was not the victimof an hallucination, and if really there was a man who had dared toconceive and execute the audacious project of coming thus under theeyes of her mother, of declaring his love, and of asking her inreturn a solemn engagement. But what stupefied her more still, whatconfused her, was that she had actually endured such an attempt.
Under what despotic influence had she, then, fallen? To whatundefinable sentiments had she obeyed? And if she had onlytolerated! But she had done more: she had actually encouraged.
By detaining her mother when she wished to go home (and she haddetained her), had she not said to this unknown? - "Go on, I allowit: I am listening."And he had gone on. And she, at the moment of returning home, shehad engaged herself formally to reflect, and to return the next dayat a stated hour to give an answer. In a word, she had made anappointment with him.
It was enough to make her die of shame. And, as if she had neededthe sound of her own words to convince herself of the reality of thefact, she kept repeating loud,"I have made an appointment - I, Gilberte, with a man whom my parentsdo not know, and of whose name I was still ignorant yesterday."And yet she could not take upon herself to be indignant at theimprudent boldness of her conduct. The bitterness of the reproacheswhich she was addressing to herself was not sincere. She felt it sowell, that at last:
Such hypocrisy is unworthy of me. she exclaimed, "since now,still, and without the excuse of being taken by surprise, I wouldnot act otherwise."The fact is, the more she pondered, the less she could succeed indiscovering even the shadow of any offensive intention in all thatMarius de Tregars had said. By the choice of his confidant, an oldman, a friend of his family, a man of the highest respectability,he had done all in his power to make his step excusable. It wasimpossible to doubt his sincerity, to suspect the fairness ofhis intentions.
Mlle. Gilberte, better than, almost any other young girl, couldunderstand the extreme measure resorted to by M. de Tregars. By herown pride she could understand his. No more than he, in his place,would she have been willing to expose herself to a certain refusal.
What was there, then, so extraordinary in the fact of his comingdirectly to her, in his exposing to her frankly and loyally hissituation, his projects, and his hopes?
Good heavens! she thought, horrified at the sentiments which shediscovered in the deep recesses of her soul, "good heavens! Ihardly know myself any more. Here I am actually approving what hehas done!"Well, yes, she did approve him, attracted, fascinated, by the verystrangeness of the situation. Nothing seemed to her more admirablethan the conduct of Marius de Tregars sacrificing his fortune andhis most legitimate aspirations to the honor of his name, andcondemning himself to work for his living.
That one, she thought, "is a man; and his wife will have justcause to be proud of him."Involuntarily she compared him to the only men she knew: to M.
Favoral, whose miserly parsimony had made his whole family wretched;to Maxence, who did not blush to feed his disorders with the fruitsof his mother's and his sister's labor.
How different was Marius! If he was poor, it was of his own will.
Had she not seen what confidence he had in himself. She shared itfully. She felt certain, that, within the required delay, he wouldconquer that indispensable fortune. Then he might present himselfboldly. He would take her, away from the miserable surroundingsamong which she seemed fated to live: she would become theMarchioness de Tregars.
Why, then, not answer, Yes! thought she, with the harrowingemotions of the gambler who is about to stake his all upon one card.
And what a game for Mlle. Gilberte, and what a stake!
Suppose she had been mistaken. Suppose that Marius should be oneof those villains who make of seduction a science. Would she stillbe her own mistress, after answering? Did she know to what hazardssuch an engagement would expose her? Was she not about rushingblindfolded towards those deceiving perils where a young girlleaves her reputation, even when she saves her honor?
She thought, for a moment, of consulting her mother. But she knewMme. Favoral's shrinking timidity, and that she was as incapableof giving any advice as to make her will prevail. She would befrightened; she would approve all; and, at the first alarm, shewould confess all.
Am I, then, so weak and so foolish, she thought, "that I cannottake a determination which affects me personally.
She could not close her eyes all night; but in the morning herresolution was settled.
And toward one o'clock:
Are we not going out mother? she said.
Mme. Favoral was hesitating.
These early spring days are treacherous, she objected: "youcaught cold yesterday.""My dress was too thin. To-day I have taken my precautions."They started, taking their work with them, and came to occupy theiraccustomed seats.
Before they had even passed the gates, Mlle. Gilberte had recognizedMarius de Tregars and the Count de Villegre, walking in one of theside alleys. Soon, as on the day before, they took two chairs, andsettled themselves within hearing.
Never had the young girl's heart beat with such violence. It iseasy enough to take a resolution; but it is not always quite so easyto execute it, and she was asking herself if she would have strengthenough to articulate a word. At last, gathering her whole courage:
You don't believe in dreams, do you mother? she asked.
Upon this subject, as well as upon many others, Mme. Favoral had noparticular opinion.
Why do you ask the question? said she.
Because I have had such a strange one."Oh!"It seemed to me that suddenly a young man, whom I did not know,stood before me. He would have been most happy, said he to me, toask my hand, but he dared not, being very poor. And he begged meto wait three years, during which he would make his fortune.Mme. Favoral smiled.
Why it's quite a romance, said she.
But it wasn't a romance in my dream, interrupted Mlle. Gilberte.
This young man spoke in a tone of such profound conviction, thatit was impossible for me, as it were, to doubt him. I thought tomyself that he would be incapable of such an odious villainy as toabuse the confiding credulity of a poor girl."And what did you answer him?Moving her seat almost imperceptibly, Mlle. Gilberte could, fromthe corner of her eye, have a glimpse of M. de Tregars. Evidentlyhe was not missing a single one of the words which she was addressingto her mother. He was whiter than a sheet; and his face betrayed themost intense anxiety.
This gave her the energy to curb the last revolts of her conscience.
To answer was painful, she uttered; "and yet I - dared to answerhim. I said to him, 'I believe you, and I have faith in you.
Loyally and faithfully I shall await your success; but until thenwe must be strangers to one another. To resort to ruse, deceit,and falsehood would be unworthy of us. You surely would not exposeto a suspicion her who is to be your wife.'""Very well," approved Mme. Favoral; "only I did not know you wereso romantic."She was laughing, the good lady, but not loud enough to preventGilberte from hearing M. de Tregar's answer.
Count de Villegre, said he, "my old friend, receive the oath whichI take to devote my life to her who has not doubted me. It is to-daythe 4th of May, 1870 - on the 4th of May, 1873, I shall havesucceeded: I feel it, I will it, it must be!"
It was done: Gilberte Favoral had just irrevocably disposed ofherself. Prosperous or wretched, her destiny henceforth was linkedwith another. She had set the wheel in motion; and she could nolonger hope to control its direction, any more than the will canpretend to alter the course of the ivory ball upon the surface ofthe roulette-table. At the outset of this great storm of passionwhich had suddenly surrounded her, she felt an immense surprise,mingled with unexplained apprehensions and vague terrors.
Around her, apparently, nothing was changed. Father, mother,brother, friends, gravitated mechanically in their accustomed orbits.
The same daily facts repeated themselves monotonous and regular asthe tick-tack of the clock.
And yet an event had occurred more prodigious for her than the movingof a mountain.
Often during the weeks that followed, she would repeat to herself,"Is it true, is it possible even?"Or else she would run to a mirror to make sure once more that nothingupon her face or in her eyes betrayed the secret that palpitatedwithin her.
The singularity of the situation was, moreover, well calculated totrouble and confound her mind.
Mastered by circumstances, she had in utter disregard of all acceptedideas, and of the commonest propriety, listened to the passionatepromises of a stranger, and pledged her life to him. And, the pactconcluded and solemnly sworn, they had parted without knowing whenpropitious circumstances might bring them together again.
Certainly, thought she, "before God, M. de Tregars is my betrothedhusband; and yet we have never exchanged a word. Were we to meet insociety, we should be compelled to meet as strangers: if he passes byme in the street, he has no right to bow to me. I know not where heis, what becomes of him, nor what he is doing.
And in fact she had not seen him again: he had given no sign of life,so faithfully did he conform to her expressed wish. And perhapssecretly, and without acknowledging it to herself, had she wished himless scrupulous. Perhaps she would not have been very angry to seehim sometimes gliding along at her passage under the old Arcades ofthe Rue des Vosges.
But, whilst suffering from this separation, she conceived for thecharacter of Marius the highest esteem; for she felt sure that hemust suffer as much and more than she from the restraint which heimposed upon himself.
Thus he was ever present to her thoughts. She never tired ofturning over in her mind all he had said of his past life: shetried to remember his words, and the very tone of his voice.
And by living constantly thus with the memory of Marius de Tregars,she made herself familiar with him, deceived to that extent, bythe illusion of absence, that she actually persuaded herself thatshe knew him better and better every day.
Already nearly a month had elapsed, when one afternoon, as shearrived on the Place Royal; she recognized him, standing near thatsame bench where they had so strangely exchanged their pledges.
He saw her coming too: she knew it by his looks. But, when shehad arrived within a few steps of him, he walked off rapidly,leaving on the bench a folded newspaper.
Mme. Favoral wished to call him back and return it; but Mlle.
Gilberte persuaded her not to.
Never mind, mother, said she, "it isn't worth while; and, besides,the gentleman is too far now."But while getting out her embroidery, with that dexterity which neverfails even the most naive girls, she slipped the newspaper in herwork-basket.
Was she not certain that it had been left there for her?
As soon as she had returned home, she locked herself up in her ownroom, and, after searching for some time through the columns, sheread at last:
"One of the richest and most intelligent manufacturers in Paris,M. Marcolet, has just purchased in Grenelle the vast groundsbelonging to the Lacoche estate. He proposes to build upon thema manufacture of chemical products, the management of which is tobe placed in the hands of M. de T--. Although still quite young, M. de T-- is already well known inconnection with his remarkable studies on electricity. He was,perhaps, on the eve of solving the much controverted problem ofelectricity as a motive-power, when his father's ruin compelled himto suspend his labors. He now seeks to earn by his personal industrythe means of prosecuting his costly experiments.
"He is not the first to tread this path. Is it not to the inventionof the machine bearing his name, that the engineer Giffard owes thefortune which enables him to continue to seek the means of steeringballoons? Why should not M. de T--, who has as much skill and energy,have as much luck?"Ah! he does not forget me, thought Mlle. Gilberte, moved to tearsby this article, which, after all, was but a mere puff, written byMarcolet himself, without the knowledge of M. de Tregars.
She was still under that impression, thinking that Marius was alreadyat work, when her father announced to her that he had discovered ahusband, and enjoined her to find him to her liking, as he, themaster, thought it proper that she should.
Hence the energy of her refusal.
But hence also, the imprudent vivacity which had enlightened Mlle.
Favoral, and which made her say:
You hide something from me, Gilberte?Never had the young girl been so cruelly embarrassed as she was atthis moment by this sudden and unforeseen perspicacity.
Would she confide to her mother?
She felt, indeed, no repugnance to do so, certain as she was, inadvance, of the inexhaustible indulgence of the poor woman; and,besides, she would have been delighted to have some one at lastwith whom she could speak of Marius.
But she knew that her father was not the man to give up a projectconceived by himself. She knew that he would return to the chargeobstinately, without peace, and without truce. Now, as she wasdetermined to resist with a no less implacable obstinacy, sheforesaw terrible struggles, all sorts of violence and persecutions.
Informed of the truth, would Mme. Favoral have strength enough toresist these daily storms? Would not a time come, when, called uponby her husband to explain the refusals of her daughter, threatened,terrified, she would confess all?
At one glance Mlle. Gilberte estimated the danger; and, drawing fromnecessity an audacity which was very foreign to her nature:
You are mistaken, dear mother, said she, "I have concealed nothingfrom you."Not quite convinced; Mlle. Favoral shook her head.
Then, said she, "you will yield.""Never!""Then there must be some reason you do not tell me.""None, except that I do not wish to leave you. Have you everthought what would be your existence if I were no longer here? Haveyou ever asked yourself what would become of you, between my father,whose despotism will grow heavier with age, and my brother?"Always prompt to defend her son:
Maxence is not bad, she interrupted: "he will know how tocompensate me for the sorrows he has inflicted upon me."The young girl made a gesture of doubt:
I wish it, dear mother, said she, "with all my heart; but I darenot hope for it. His repentance to-night was great and sincere; butwill he remember it to-morrow? Besides, don't you know that fatherhas fully resolved to separate himself from Maxence? Think ofyourself alone here with father."Mlle. Favoral shuddered at the mere idea.
I would not suffer very long, she murmured. Mlle. Gilbertekissed her.
It is because I wish you to live to be happy that I refuse tomarry, she exclaimed. "Must you not have your share of happinessin this world? Let me manage. Who knows what compensations thefuture may have in store for you? Besides, this person whom fatherhas selected for me does not suit me. A stock-jobber, who wouldthink of nothing but money, - who would examine my house-accountsas papa does yours, or else who would load me with cashmeres anddiamonds, like Mlle. de Thaller, to make of me a sign for his shop?
No, no! I want no such man. So, mother dear, be brave, take sidesboldly with your daughter, and we shall soon be rid of this would-behusband.""Your father will bring him to you: he said he would.""Well, he is a man of courage, if he returns three times."At this moment the parlor-door opened suddenly.
What are you plotting here again? cried the irritated voice ofthe master. "And you, Mme. Favoral, why don't you go to bed?"The poor slave obeyed, without saying a word. And, whilst makingher way to her room:
There is trouble ahead, thought Mlle. Gilberte. "But bash! If Ido have to suffer some, it won't be great harm, after all. SurelyMarius does not complain, though he gives up for me his dearesthopes, becomes the salaried employe of M. Marcolet, and thinks ofnothing but making money, - he so proud and so disinterested!
Mlle. Gilberte's anticipations were but too soon realized. When M.
Favoral made his appearance the next morning, he had the sombre browand contracted lips of a man who has spent the night ruminating aplan from which he does not mean to swerve.
Instead of going to his office, as usual, without saying a word toany one, he called his wife and children to the parlor; and, afterhaving carefully bolted all the doors, he turned to Maxence.
I want you, he commenced, "to give me a list of your creditors.
See that you forget none; and let it be ready as soon as possible."But Maxence was no longer the same man. After the terrible andwell-deserved reproaches of his sister, a salutary revolution hadtaken place in him. During the preceding night, he had reflectedover his conduct for the past four years; and he had been dismayedand terrified. His impression was like that of the drunkard, who,having become sober, remembers the ridiculous or degrading actswhich he has committed 'under the influence of alcohol, and, confusedand humiliated, swears never more to drink.
Thus Maxence had sworn to himself to change his mode of life,promising that it would be no drunkard's oath, either. And hisattitude and his looks showed the pride of great resolutions.
Instead of lowering his eyes before the irritated glance of M.
Favoral, and stammering excuses and vague promises:
It is useless, father, he replied, "to give you the list you askfor. I am old enough to bear the responsibility of my acts. Ishall repair my follies: what I owe, I shall pay. This very day Ishall see my creditors, and make arrangements with them.
Very well, Maxence, exclaimed Mlle. Favoral, delighted.
But there was no pacifying the cashier of the Mutual Credit.
Those are fine-sounding words, he said with a sneer; "but I doubtif the tailors and the shirt-makers will take them in payment.
That's why I want that list.""Still - ""It's I who shall pay. I do not mean to have another such sceneas that of yesterday in my office. It must not be said that myson is a sharper and a cheat at the very moment when I find for mydaughter a most unhoped-for match."And, turning to Mlle. Gilberte:
For I suppose you have got over your foolish ideas, he uttered.
The young girl shook her head.
My ideas are the same as they were last night."Ah, ah!"And so, father, I beg of you, do not insist. Why wrangle andquarrel? You must know me well enough to know, that, whatever mayhappen, I shall never yield.Indeed, M. Favoral was well aware of his daughter's firmness; forhe had already been compelled on several occasions, as he expressedit himself, "to strike his flag" before her. But he could notbelieve that she would resist when he took certain means ofenforcing his will.
I have pledged my word, he said.
But I have not pledged mine, father.He was becoming excited: his cheeks were flushed; and his littleeyes sparkled.
And suppose I were to tell you, he resumed, doing at least to hisdaughter the honor of controlling his anger:" suppose I were totell you that I would derive from this marriage immense, positive,and immediate advantages?""Oh!" she interrupted with a look of disgust, "oh, for mercy's sake!""Suppose I were to tell you that I have a powerful interest in it;that it is indispensable to the success of vast combinations?"Mlle. Gilberte looked straight at him.
I would answer you, she exclaimed, "that it does not suit me tobe made use of as an earnest to your combinations. Ah! it's anoperation, is it? an enterprise, a big speculation? and you throwin your daughter in the bargain as a bonus. Well, no! You cantell your partner that the thing has fallen through."M. Favoral's anger was growing with each word.
I'll see if I can't make you yield, he said.
You may crush me, perhaps. Make me yield, never!"Well, we shall see. You will see - Maxence and you - whether thereare no means by which a father can compel his rebellious children tosubmit to his authority.And, feeling that he was no longer master of himself, he left,swearing loud enough to shake the plaster from the stair-walls.
Maxence shook with indignation.
Never, he uttered, "never until now, had I understood the infamyof my conduct. With a father such as ours, Gilberte, I should beyour protector. And now I am debarred even of the right tointerfere. But never mind, I have the will; and all will soon berepaired."Left alone, a few moments after, Mlle. Gilberte was congratulatingherself upon her firmness.
I am sure, she thought, "Marius would approve, if he knew."She had not long to wait for her reward. The bell rang: it was herold professor, the Signor Gismondo Pulei, who came to give her hisdaily lesson.
The liveliest joy beamed upon his face, more shriveled than anapple at Easter; and the most magnificent anticipations sparkled inhis eyes.
I knew it, signora! he exclaimed from the thresh-old: "I knew thatangels bring good luck. As every thing succeeds to you, so mustevery thing succeed to those who come near you."She could not help smiling at the appropriateness of the compliment.
Something fortunate has happened to you, dear master? she asked.
That is to say, I am on the high-road to fortune and glory, hereplied. "My fame is extending; pupils dispute the privilege ofmy lesson."Mlle. Gilberte knew too well the thoroughly Italian exaggeration ofthe worthy maestro to be surprised.
This morning, he went on, "visited by inspiration, I had risenearly, and I was working with marvelous facility, when there was aknock at my door. I do not remember such an occurrence since theblessed day when your worthy father called for me. Surprised, Inevertheless said, 'Come in;' when there appeared a tall and robustyoung man, proud and intelligent-looking."The young girl started.
Marius! cried a voice within her.""This young man," continued the old Italian, "had heard me spokenof, and came to apply for lessons. I questioned him; and from thefirst words I discovered that his education had been frightfullyneglected, that he was ignorant of the most vulgar notions of thedivine art, and that he scarcely knew the difference between asharp and a quaver. It was really the A, B, C, which he wished meto teach him. Laborious task, ungrateful labor! But he manifestedso much shame at his ignorance, and so much desire to be instructed,that I felt moved in his favor. Then his countenance was mostwinning, his voice of a superior tone; and finally he offered mesixty francs a month. In short, he is now my pupil."As well as she could, Mlle. Gilberte was hiding her blushes behinda music-book.
We remained over two hours talking, said the good and simplemaestro, "and I believe that he has excellent dispositions.
Unfortunately, he can only take two lessons a week. Although anobleman, he works; and, when he took off his glove to hand me amonth in advance, I noticed that one of his hands was blackened,as if burnt by some acid. But never mind, signora, sixty francs,together with what your father gives me, it's a fortune. The endof my career will be spared the privations of its beginning. Thisyoung man will help making me known. The morning has been dark;but the sunset will be glorious."The young girl could no longer have any doubts: M. de Tregars hadfound the means of hearing from her, and letting her hear from him.
The impression she felt contributed no little to give her thepatience to endure the obstinate persecution of her father, who,twice a day, never failed to repeat to her:
Get ready to properly receive my protege on Saturday. I have notinvited him to dinner: he will only spend the evening with us.And he mistook for a disposition to yield the cold tone in whichshe answered:
I beg you to believe that this introduction is wholly unnecessary.Thus, the famous day having come, he told his usual Saturday guests,M. and Mme. Desciavettes, M. Chapelain, and old man Desormeaux:
Eh, eh! I guess you are going to see a future son-in- law!At nine o'clock, just as they had passed into the parlor, the soundof carriage-wheels startled the Rue St. Gilles.
There he is! exclaimed the cashier of the Mutual Credit.
And, throwing open a window:
Come, Gilberte, he added, "come and see his carriage and horses."She never stirred; but M. Desclavettes and M. Chapelain ran. It wasnight, unfortunately; and of the whole equipage nothing was visiblebut the two lanterns that shone like stars. Almost at the same timethe parlor-door flew open; and the servant, who had been properlytrained in advance, announced:
Monsieur Costeclar.Leaning toward Mme. Favoral, who was seated by her side on the sofa,"A nice-looking man, isn't he? a really nice-looking man," whisperedMme. Desciavettes.
And indeed he really thought so himself. Gesture, attitude, smile,every thing in M. Costeclar, betrayed the satisfaction of self, andthe assurance of a man accustomed to success. His head, which wasvery small, had but little hair left; but it was artistically drawntowards the temples, parted in the middle, and cut short aroundthe forehead. His leaden complexion, his pale lips, and his dulleye, did not certainly betray a very rich blood; he had a great longnose, sharp and curved like a sickle; and his beard, of undecidedcolor, trimmed in the Victor Emmanuel style, did the greatest honorto the barber who cultivated it. Even when seen for the first time,one might fancy that he recognized him, so exactly was he like threeor four hundred others who are seen daily in the neighborhood ofthe Caf Riche, who are met everywhere where people run who pretendto amuse themselves, - at the bourse or in the bois; at the firstrepresentations, where they are just enough hidden to be perfectlywell seen at the back of boxes filled with young ladies withastonishing chignons; at the races; in carriages, where they drinkchampagne to the health of the winner.
He had on this occasion hoisted his best looks, and the full dressde rigueur - dress-coat with wide sleeves, shirt cut low in the neck,and open vest, fastened below the waist by a single button.
Quite the man of the world, again remarked Mme. Desclavettes.
M. Favoral rushed toward him; and the latter, hastening, met himhalf way, and, taking both his hands into his - "I cannot tell you,dear friend," he commenced, "how deeply I feel the honor you do mein receiving me in the midst of your charming family and yourrespectable friends."And he bowed all around during this speech, which he delivered inthe condescending tone of a lord visiting his inferiors.
Let me introduce you to my wife, interrupted the cashier. And,leading him towards Mme. Favoral - "Monsieur Costeclar, my dear,"said he:" the friend of whom we have spoken so often."M. Costeclar bowed, rounding his shoulders, bending his lean formin a half-circle, and letting his arms hang forward.
I am too much the friend of our dear Favoral, madame, he uttered,"not to have heard of you long since, nor to know your merits, andthe fact that he owes to you that peaceful happiness which he enjoys,and which we all envy him."Standing by the mantel-piece, the usual Saturday evening guestsfollowed with the liveliest interest the evolutions of the pretender.
Two of them, M. Chapelain and old Desormeaux, were perfectly ableto appreciate him at his just value; but, in affirming that he madehalf a million a year, M. Favoral had, as it were, thrown over hisshoulders that famous ducal cloak which concealed all deformities.
Without waiting for his wife's answer, M. Favoral brought hisprotege in front of Mlle. Gilberte.
Dear daughter,said he, "Monsieur Costeclar, the friend of whomI have spoken."M. Costeclar bowed still lower, and rounded off his shoulders again;but the young lady looked at him from head to foot with such afreezing glance, that his tongue remained as if paralyzed in hismouth, and he could only stammer out:
Mademoiselle! the honor, the humblest of your admirers.Fortunately Maxence was standing three steps off - he fell hack ingood order upon him, and seizing his hand, which he shook vigorously:
"I hope, my dear sir, that we shall soon be quite intimate friends. Your excellent father, whose special concern you are, has oftenspoken to me of you. Events, so he has confided to me, have nothitherto responded to your expectations. At your age, this is nota very grave natter. People, now-a-days, do not always find at thefirst attempt the road that leads to fortune. You will find yours. From this time forth I place at your command my influence and myexperience; and, if you will consent to take me for your guide -Maxence had withdrawn his hand.
"I am very much obliged to you, sir, he answered coldly; "but I amcontent with my lot, and I believe myself old enough to walk alone."Almost any one would have lost countenance. But M. Costeclar wasso little put out, that it seemed as though he had expected justsuch a reception. He turned upon his heels, and advanced towardsM. Favoral's friends with a smile so engaging as to make it evidentthat he was anxious to conquer their suff rages.
This was at the beginning of the month of June, 1870. No one asyet could foresee the frightful disasters which were to mark theend of that fatal year. And yet there was everywhere in Francethat indefinable anxiety which precedes great social convulsions.
The plebiscitum had not succeeded in restoring confidence. Everyday the most alarming rumors were put in circulation and it was witha sort of passion that people went in quest of news.
Now, M. Costeclar was a wonderfully well-posted man. He had,doubtless, on his way, stopped on the Boulevard des Italiens, thatblessed ground where nightly the street-brokers labor for thefinancial prosperity of the country. He had gone through the Passagede l'Opera, which is, as is well known, the best market for the mostcorrect and the most reliable news. Therefore he might safely bebelieved.
Placing his hack to the chimney, he had taken the lead in theconversation; and he was talking, talking, talking. Being a "bull,"he took a favorable view of every thing. He believed in theeternity of the second empire. He sang the praise of the newcabinet: he was ready to pour out his blood for Emile Ollivier.
True, some people complained that business was dull and slow; butthose people, he thought, were merely "bears." Business had neverbeen so brilliant. At no time had prosperity been greater. Capitalwas abundant. The institutions of credit were flourishing.
Securities were rising. Everybody's pockets were full to bursting.
And the others listened in astonishment to this inexhaustibleprattle, this "gab," more filled with gold spangles than Dantzigcordial, with which the commercial travelers of the bourse catchtheir customers.
Suddenly:
But you must excuse me, he said, rushing towards the other end ofthe parlor.
Mme. Favoral had just left the room to order tea to be brought in;and, the seat by Mlle. Gilberte being vacant, M. Costeclar occupiedit promptly.
He understands his business, growled M. Desormeaux.
Surely," said M. Desclavettes, "If I had some funds to dispose ofjust now.""I would be most happy to have him for my son-in-law," declared M.
Favoral.
He was doing his best. Somewhat intimidated by Mlle. Gilberte'sfirst look, he had now fully recovered his wits.
He commenced by sketching his own portrait.
He had just turned thirty, and had experienced the strong and theweak side of life. He had had "successes," but had tired of them.
Having gauged the emptiness of what is called pleasure, he onlywished now to find a partner for life, whose graces and virtueswould secure his domestic happiness.
He could not help noticing the absent look of the young girl; buthe had, thought he, other means of compelling her attention. Andhe went on, saying that he felt himself cast of the metal of whichmodel husbands are made. His plans were all made in advance. Hiswife would be free to do as she pleased. She would have her owncarriage and horses, her box at the Italiens and at the Opera, andan open account at Worth's and Van Klopen's. As to diamonds, hewould take care of that. He meant that his wife's display ofwealth should be noticed; and even spoken of in the newspapers.
Was this the terms of a bargain that he was offering?
If so, it was so coarsely, that Mlle. Gilberte, ignorant of life asshe was, wondered in what world it might be that he had met with somany "successes." And, somewhat indignantly:
Unfortunately, she said, "the bourse is perfidious; and the manwho drives his own carriage to-day, to-morrow may have no shoes towear."M. Costeclar nodded with a smile.
Exactly so, said he. "A marriage protects one against suchreverses.""Every man in active business, when he marries, settles upon hiswife reasonable fortune. I expect to settle six hundred thousandfrancs upon mine.""So that, if you were to meet with an - accident?""We should enjoy our thirty thousand a year under the very nose ofthe creditors."Blushing with shame, Mlle. Gilberte rose.
But then, said she, "it isn't a wife that you are looking for: itis an accomplice."He was spared the embarrassment of an answer, by the servant, whocame in, bringing in tea. He accepted a cup; and after two orthree anecdotes, judging that he had done enough for a first visit,he withdrew, and a moment later they heard his carriage driving offat full gallop.
It was not without mature thought that M. Costeclar had determinedto withdraw, despite M. Favoral's pressing overtures. Howeverinfatuated he might be with his own merits, he had been compelledto surrender to evidence, and to acknowledge that he had not exactlysucceeded with Mlle. Gilberte. But he also knew that he had thehead of the house on his side; and he flattered himself that hehad produced an excellent impression upon the guests of the house.
Therefore, had he said to himself, "if I leave first, they willsing my praise, lecture the young person, and make her listen toreason."He was not far from being right. Mme. Desciavettes had beencompletely subjugated by the grand manners of this pretender; andM. Desclavettes did not hesitate to affirm that he had rarely metany one who pleased him more.
The others, M. Chapelain and old Desormeaux, did not, doubtless,share this optimism; but M. Costeclar's annual half-millionobscured singularly their clear-sightedness.
They thought perhaps, they had discovered in him some alarmingfeatures; but they had full and entire confidence in their friendFavoral's prudent sagacity.
The particular and methodic cashier of the Mutual Credit was notapt to he enthusiastic; and, if he opened the doors of his house toa young man, if he was so anxious to have him for his son-in-law,he must evidently have taken ample information.
Finally there are certain family matters from which sensible peoplekeep away as they would from the plague; and, on the question ofmarriage especially, he is a bold man who would take side for oragainst.
Thus Mme. Desciavettes was the only one to raise her voice. TakingMlle. Gilberte's hands within hers:
Let me scold you, my dear, said she, "for having received thus apoor young man who was only trying to please you."Excepting her mother, too weak to take her defence, and her brother,who was debarred from interfering, the young girl understood readily,that, in that parlor, every one, overtly or tacitly, was against her.
The idea came to her mind to repeat there boldly what she had alreadytold her father that she was resolved not to marry, and that shewould not marry, not being one of those weak girls, without energy,whom they dress in white, and drag to church against their will.
Such a bold declaration would be in keeping with her character.
But she feared a terrible, and perhaps degrading scene. The mostintimate friends of the family were ignorant of its most painfulsores. In presence of his friends, M. Favoral dissembled, speakingin a mild voice, and assuming a kindly smile. Should she suddenlyreveal the truth?
It is childish of you to run the risk of discouraging a cleverfellow who makes half a million a year, continued the wife of theold bronze-merchant, to whom such conduct seemed an abominable crimeof lese-money. Mlle. Gilberte had withdrawn her bands.
You did not hear what he said, madame."I beg your pardon: I was quite near, and involuntarily -"You have heard his - propositions?"Perfectly. He was promising you a carriage, a box at the opera,diamonds, freedom. Isn't that the dream of all young ladies?"It is not mine, madame!"Dear me! What better can you wish? You must not expect more froma husband than he can possibly give."That is not what I shall expect of him.In a tone of paternal indulgence, which his looks belied:
She is mad, suggested M. Favoral.
Tears of indignation filled Mlle. Gilberte's eyes.
Mme. Desciavettes, she exclaimed, "forgets something. She forgetsthat this gentleman dared to tell me that he proposed to settle uponthe woman he marries a large fortune, of which his creditors wouldthus be cheated in case of his failure in business."She thought, in her simplicity, that a cry of indignation would riseat these words. Instead of which:
Well, isn't it perfectly natural? said M. Desclavettes.
It seems to me more than natural, insisted Mme. Desclavettes,"that a man should be anxious to preserve from ruin his wife andchildren.""Of course," put in M. Favoral.
Stepping resolutely toward her father:
Have you, then, taken such precautions yourself? demanded Mlle.
Gilberte.
No, answered the cashier of the Mutual Credit. And, after amoment of hesitation:
But I am running no risks, he added. "In business, and when aman may be ruined by a mere rise or fall in stocks, he would beinsane indeed who did not secure bread for his family, and, aboveall, means for himself, wherewith to commence again. The Baron deThaller did not act otherwise; and, should he meet with a disaster,Mme. de Thaller would still have a handsome fortune."M. Desormeaux was, perhaps, the only one not to admit freely thattheory, and not to accept that ever-decisive reason, " Others do it."But he was a philosopher, and thought it silly not to be of his time.
He therefore contented himself with saying:
Hum! M. de Thaller's creditors might not think that mode ofproceeding entirely regular."Then they might sue, said M. Chapelain, laughing. "People canalways sue; only when the papers are well drawn -"Mlle. Gilberte stood dismayed. She thought of Marius de Tregarsgiving up his mother's fortune to pay his father's debts.
What would he say, thought she, "should he hear such opinions!"The cashier of the Mutual Credit resumed:
Surely I blame every species of fraud. But I pretend, and Imaintain, that a man who has worked twenty years to give a handsomedowry to his daughter has the right to demand of his son-in-lawcertain conservative measures to guarantee the money, which, afterall, is his own, and which is to benefit no one but his own family.This declaration closed the evening. It was getting late. TheSaturday guests put on their overcoats; and, as they were walkinghome,"Can you understand that little Gilberte?" said Mme. Desciavettes.
I'd like to see a daughter of mine have such fancies! But herpoor mother is so weak!"Yes; but friend Favoral is firm enough for both, interrupted M.
Desormeaux; "and it is more than probable that at this very momenthe is correcting his daughter of the sin of sloth."Well, not at all. Extremely angry as M. Favoral must have been,neither that evening, nor the next day, did he make the remotestallusion to what had taken place.
The following Monday only, before leaving for his office, castingupon his wife and daughter one of his ugliest looks:
M. Costeclar owes us a visit, said he; "and it is possible thathe may call in my absence. I wish him to be admitted; and I forbidyou to go out, so that you can have no pretext to refuse him thedoor. I presume there will not be found in my house any one boldenough to ill receive a man whom I like, and whom I have selectedfor my son-in law."But was it probable, was it even possible, that M. Costeclar couldventure upon such a step after Mlle. Gilberte's treatment of him onthe previous Saturday evening?
No, a thousand times no! affirmed Maxence to his mother and sister.
So you may rest easy.Indeed they tried to be, until that very afternoon the sound ofrapidly-rolling wheels attracted Mme. Favoral to the window. Acoupe, drawn by two gray horses, had just stopped at the door.
It must be he, she said to her daughter.
Mlle. Gilberte had turned slightly pale.
There is no help for it, mother, she said: "You must receive him.""And you?"I shall remain in my room.""Do you suppose he won't ask for you?""You will answer that I am unwell. He will understand.""But your father, unhappy child, your father?""I do not acknowledge to my father the right of disposing of myperson against my wishes. I detest that man to whom he wishes tomarry me. Would you like to see me his wife, to know me given upto the most intolerable torture? No, there is no violence in theworld that will ever wring my consent from me. So, mother dear,do what I ask you. My father can say what he pleases: I take thewhole responsibility upon myself."There was no time to argue: the bell rang. Mlle. Gilberte hadbarely time to escape through one of the doors of the parlor,whilst M. Costeclar was entering at the other.
If he did have enough perspicacity to guess what had just takenplace, he did not in any way show it. He sat down; and it wasonly after conversing for a few moments upon indifferent subjects,that he asked how Mlle. Gilberte was.
She is somewhat - unwell, stammered Mme. Favoral.
He did not appear surprised; only,"Our dear Favoral," he said, "will be still more pained than I amwhen he hears of this mishap."Better than any other mother, Mme. Favoral must have understood andapproved Mlle. Gilberte's invincible repugnance. To her also, whenshe was young, her father had come one day, and said, "I havediscovered a husband for you." She had accepted him blindly. Bruisedand wounded by daily outrages, she had sought refuge in marriage asin a haven of safety.
And since, hardly a day had elapsed that she had not thought itwould have been better for her to have died rather then to haveriveted to her neck those fetters that death alone can remove. Shethought, therefore, that her daughter was perfectly right. And yettwenty years of slavery had so weakened the springs of her energy,that under the glance of Costeclar, threatening her with herhusband's name, she felt embarrassed, and could scarcely stammersome timid excuses. And she allowed him to prolong his visit, andconsequently her torment, for over an half an hour; then, when hehad gone,"He and your father understand each other," said she to her daughter,"that is but too evident. What is the use of struggling?"A fugitive blush colored the pale cheeks of Mlle. Gilberte. Forthe past forty-eight hours she had been exhausting herself, seekingan issue to an impossible situation; and she had accustomed her mindto the worst eventualities.
Do you wish me, then, to desert the paternal roof? she exclaimed.
Mme. Favoral almost dropped on the floor.
You would run away, she stammered, "you!""Rather than become that man's wife, yes!""And where would you go, unfortunate child? what would you do?""I can earn my living."Mme. Favoral shook her head sadly. The same suspicions were revivingwithin her that she had felt once before.
Gilberte, she said in a beseeching tone, "am I, then, no longeryour best friend? and will you not tell me from what sources youdraw your courage and your resolution?"And, as her daughter said nothing:
God alone knows what may happen! sighed the poor woman.
Nothing happened, but what could have been easily foreseen. WhenM. Favoral came home to dinner, he was whistling a perfect stormon the stairs. He abstained at first from all recrimination; buttowards the end of the meal, with the most sarcastic look he couldassume:
It seems, he said to his daughter, "that you were unwell thisafternoon?"Bravely, and without flinching, she sustained his look; and, in afirm voice:
I shall always be indisposed, she replied, "when M. Costeclarcalls. You hear me, don't you, father - always!"But the cashier of the Credit Mutual was not one of those men whosewrath finds vent in mere sarcasms. Rising suddenly to his feet:
By the holy heavens! he screamed forth, "you are wrong to triflethus with my will; for, all of you here, I shall crush you as I dothis glass."And, with a frenzied gesture, he dashed the glass he held in hishand against the wall, where it broke in a thousand pieces.
Trembling like a leaf, Mme. Favoral staggered upon her chair.
"Better kill her at once," said Mlle. Gilberte coldly. "She wouldsuffer less."It was by a torrent of invective that M. Favoral replied. His rage,dammed up for the past four days, finding at last an outlet, flowedin gross insults and insane threats. He spoke of throwing out inthe street his wife and children, or starving them out, or shuttingup his daughter in a house of correction; until at last, languagefailing his fury, beside himself, he left, swearing that he wouldbring M. Costeclar home himself, and then they would see.
Very well, we shall see, said Mlle. Gilberte.
Motionless in his place, and white as a plaster cast, Maxence hadwitnessed this lamentable scene. A gleam of common-sense hadenabled him to control his indignation, and to remain silent. Hehad understood, that, at the first word, his father's fury wouldhave turned against him; and then what might have happened? Themost frightful dramas of the criminal courts have often had noother origin.
No, this is no longer bearable! he exclaimed.
Even at the time of his greatest follies, Maxence had always hadfor his sister a fraternal affection. He admired her from the dayshe had stood up before him to reproach him for his misconduct. Heenvied her her quiet determination, her patient tenacity, and thatcalm energy that never failed her.
Have patience, my poor Gilberte, he added: "the day is not far,I hope, when I may commence to repay you all you have done for me.
I have not lost my time since you restored me my reason. I havearranged with my creditors. I have found a situation, which, ifnot brilliant, is at least sufficiently lucrative to enable mebefore long to offer you, as well as to our mother, a peacefulretreat.""But it is to-morrow," interrupted Mme. Favoral, "to-morrow thatyour father is to bring M. Costeclar. He has said so, and he willdo it."And so he did. About two o'clock in the afternoon M. Favoral andhis protege arrived in the Rue St. Gilles, in that famous coupewith the two horses, which excited the wonder of the neighbors.
But Mlle. Gilberte bad her plan ready. She was on the lookout;and, as soon as she heard the carriage stop, she ran to her room,undressed in a twinkling, and went to bed.
When her father came for her, and saw her in bed, he remainedsurprised and puzzled on the threshold of the door.
And yet I'll make you come into the parlor! he said in a hoarsevoice.
Then you must carry me there as I am, she said in a tone ofdefiance; "for I shall certainly not get up."For the first time since his marriage, M. Favoral met in his ownhouse a more inflexible will than his own, and a more unyieldingobstinacy. He was baffled. He threatened his daughter with hisclinched fists, but could discover no means of making her obey.
He was compelled to surrender, to yield.
This will be settled with the rest, he growled, as he went out.
I fear nothing in the world, father, said the girl.
It was almost true, so much did the thought of Marius de Tregarsinflame her courage. Twice already she had heard from him throughthe Signor Gismondo Pulei, who never tired talking of this new pupil,to whom he had already given two lessons.
He is the most gallant man in the world, he said, his eye sparklingwith enthusiasm, " and the bravest, and the most generous, and thebest; and no quality that can adorn one of God's creatures shall bewanting in him when I have taught him the divine art. It is notwith a little contemptible gold that he means to reward my zeal.
To him I am as a second father; and it is with the confidence of ason that he explains to me his labors and his hopes."Thus Mlle. Gilberte learned through the old maestro, that thenewspaper article she had read was almost exactly true, and thatM. de Tregars and M. Marcolet had become associated for the purposeof working, in joint account, certain recent discoveries, which bidfair to yield large profits in a near future.
And yet it is for my sake alone that he has thus thrown himselfinto the turmoil of business, and has become as eager for gain asthat M. Marcolet himself.And, at the height of her father's persecutions, she felt glad ofwhat she had done, and of her boldness in placing her destiny in thehands of a stranger. The memory of Marius had become her refuge,the element of all her dreams and of all her hopes; in a word, herlife.
It was of Marius she was thinking, when her mother, surprising hergazing into vacancy, would ask her, "What are you thinking of?" And,at every new vexation she had to endure, her imagination decked himwith a new quality, and she clung to him with a more desperate grasp.
How much he would grieve, thought she, "if he knew of whatpersecution I am the object!"And very careful was she not to allow the Signor Gismondo Pulei tosuspect any thing of it, affecting, on the contrary, in his presence,the most cheerful serenity.
And yet she was a prey to the most cruel anxiety, since she observeda new and most incredible transformation in her father.
That man so violent and so harsh, who flattered himself never tohave been bent, who boasted never to have forgotten or forgiven anything, that domestic tyrant, had become quite a debonair personage.
He had referred to the expedient imagined by Mlle. Gilberte only tolaugh at it, saying that it was a good trick, and he deserved it;for he repented bitterly, he protested, his past brutalities.
He owned that he had at heart his daughter's marriage with M.
Costeclar; but he acknowledged that he had made use of the surestmeans for making it fail. He should, he humbly confessed, haveexpected every thing of time and circumstances, of M. Costeclar'sexcellent qualities, and of his beautiful, darling daughter'sgood sense.
More than of all his violence, Mme. Favoral was terrified at thisaffected good nature.
Dear me! she sighed, "what does it all mean?"But the cashier of the Mutual Credit was not preparing any newsurprise to his family. If the means were different, it was stillthe same object that he was pursuing with the tenacity of an insect.
When severity had failed, he hoped to succeed by gentleness, that'sall. Only this assumption of hypocritical meekness was too newto him to deceive any one. At every moment the mask fell off, theclaws showed, and his voice trembled with ill-suppressed rage inthe midst of his most honeyed phrases.
Moreover, he entertained the strangest illusions. Because forforty-eight hours he had acted the part of a good-natured man,because one Sunday he had taken his wife and daughter out riding inthe Bois de Vincennes, because he had given Maxence a hundred-francnote, he imagined that it was all over, that the past was obliterated,forgotten, and forgiven.
And, drawing Gilberte upon his knees,"Well, daughter," he said, "you see that I don't importune you anymore, and I leave you quite free. I am more reasonable than you are."But on the other hand, and according to an expression which escapedhim later, he tried to turn the enemy.
He did every thing in his power to spread in the neighborhood therumor of Mlle. Gilberte's marriage with a financier of colossalwealth, - that elegant young man who came in a coupe with two horses.
Mme. Favoral could not enter a shop without being covertlycomplimented upon having found such a magnificent establishment forher daughter.
Loud, indeed, must have been the gossip; for its echo reached eventhe inattentive ears of the Signor Gismondo Pulei.
One day, suddenly interrupting his lesson, - "You are going to bemarried, signora?" he inquired.
Mlle. Gilberte started.
What the old Italian had heard, he would surely ere long repeat toMarius. It was therefore urgent to undeceive him.
It is true, she replied, "that something has been said about amarriage, dear maestro.""Ah, ah!""Only my father had not consulted me. That marriage will nevertake place: I swear it."She expressed herself in a tone of such ardent conviction, that theold gentleman was quite astonished, little dreaming that it was notto him that this energetic denial was addressed.
My destiny is irrevocably fixed, added Mlle. Gilberte. "When Imarry, I will consult the inspirations of my heart only."In the mean time, it was a veritable conspiracy against her. M.
Favoral had succeeded in interesting in the success of his designshis habitual guests, not M. and Mme. Desciavettes, who had beenseduced from the first, but M. Chapelain and old Desormeaux himself.
So that they all vied with each other in their efforts to bring the"dear child" to reason, and to enlighten her with their counsels.
Father must have a still more considerable interest in this alliancethan he has allowed us to think, she remarked to her brother.
Maxence was also absolutely of the same opinion.
And then, he added, "our father must be terribly rich; for, do notdeceive yourself, it isn't solely for your pretty blue eyes thatthis Costeclar persists in coming here twice a week to pocket a newmortification. What enormous dowry can he be hoping for? I amgoing to speak to him myself, and try to find out what he is after."But Mlle. Gilberte had but slight confidence in her brother'sdiplomacy.
I beg of you, she said, "don't meddle with that business!""Yes, yes, I will! Fear nothing, I'll be prudent."Having taken his resolution, Maxence placed himself on the lookout;and the very next day, as M. Costeclar was stepping out of hiscarriage at the door, he walked straight up to him.
I wish to speak to you, sir, he said. Self-possessed as he was,the brilliant financier succeeded but poorly in concealing a surprisethat looked very much like fright.
I am going in to call on your parents, sir, he replied; "and whilstwaiting for your father, with whom I have an appointment, I shall beat your command.""No, no!" interrupted Maxence. "What I have to say must be heard byyou alone. Come along this way, and we shall not be interrupted."And he led M. Costeclar away as far as the Place Royal. Once there,"You are very anxious to marry my sister, sir," he commenced.
During their short walk M. Costeclar had recovered himself. He hadresumed all his impertinent assurance. Looking at Maxence from headto foot with any thing but a friendly look,"It is my dearest and my most ardent wish, sir," he replied.
Very well. But you must have noticed the very slight success, touse no harsher word, of your assiduities."Alas!"And, perhaps, you will judge, like myself, that it would be the actof a gentleman to withdraw in presence of such positive-repugnance?An ugly smile was wandering upon M. Costeclar's pale lips.
Is it at the request of your sister, sir, that you make me thiscommunication?"No, sir."Are you aware whether your sister has some inclination that may bean obstacle to the realization of my hopes?"Sir!"Excuse me! What I say has nothing to offend. It might very wellbe that your sister, before I had the honor of being introduced toher, had already fixed her choice.He spoke so loud, that Maxence looked sharply around to see whetherthere was not some one within hearing. He saw no one but a youngman, who seemed quite absorbed reading a newspaper.
But, sir, he resumed, "what would you answer, if I, the brotherof the young lady whom you wish to marry against her wishes, - Icalled upon you to cease your assiduities?
M. Costeclar bowed ceremoniously,"I would answer you, sir," he uttered, "that your father's assentis sufficient for me. My suit has nothing but is honorable. Yoursister may not like me: that is a misfortune; but it is notirreparable. When she knows me better, I venture to hope that shewill overcome her unjust prejudices. Therefore I shall persist."Maxence insisted no more. He was irritated at M. Costeclar'scoolness; but it was not his intention to push things further.
There will always be time, he thought, "to resort to violentmeasures."But when he reported this conversation to his sister,"It is clear," he said, "that, between our father and that man,there is a community of interests which I am unable to discover.
What business have they together? In what respect can your marriageeither help or injure them? I must see, try and find out exactlywho is this Costeclar: the deuse take him!"He started out the same day, and had not far to go.
M. Costeclar was one of those personalities which only bloom inParis, and are only met in Paris, - the same as cab-horses, andyoung ladies with yellow chignons.
He knew everybody, and everybody knew him.
He was well known at the bourse, in all the principal restaurants,where he called the waiters by their first names, at the box-officeof the theatres, at all the pool-rooms, and at the European Club,otherwise called the Nomadic Club, of which he was a member.
He operated at the bourse: that was sure. He was said to own athird interest in a stock-broker's office. He had a good deal ofbusiness with M. Jottras, of the house of Jottras and Brother, andM. Saint Pavin, the manager of a very popular journal, "The FinancialPilot."It was further known that he had on Rue Vivienne, a magnificentapartment, and that he had successively honored with his liberalprotection Mlle. Sidney of the Varieties, and Mme. Jenny Fancy, alady of a certain age already, but so situated as to return to herlovers in notoriety what they gave her in good money. So much didMaxence learn without difficulty. As to any more precise details,it was impossible to obtain them. To his pressing questions uponM. Costeclar's antecedents,"He is a perfectly honest man," answered some.
He is simply a speculator, affirmed others.
But all agreed that he was a sharp one," who would surely make hisfortune, and without passing through the police-courts, either.
How can our father and such a man be so intimately connected?wondered Maxence and his sister.
And they were lost in conjectures, when suddenly, at an hour whenhe never set his foot in the house, M. Favoral appeared.
Throwing a letter upon his daughter's lap,"See what I have just received from Costeclar," he said in a hoarsevoice. "Read."She read, "Allow me, dear friend, to release you from your engagement.
Owing to circumstances absolutely beyond my control, I find myselfcompelled to give up the honor of becoming a member of your family."What could have happened?
Standing in the middle of the parlor, the cashier of the Mutual Creditheld, bowed down beneath his glance, his wife and children, Mme.
Favoral trembling, Maxence starting in mute surprise, and Mlle.
Gilberte, who needed all the strength of her will to control theexplosion of her immense joy.
Every thing in M. Favoral betrayed, nevertheless, much more theexcitement of a disaster than the rage of a deception.
Never had his family seen him thus, - livid, his cravat undone, hishair wet with perspiration, and clinging to his temples.
Will you please explain this letter? he asked at last.
And, as no one answered him, he took up that letter again from thetable where Mlle. Gilberte bad laid it, and commenced reading itagain, scanning each syllable, as if in hopes of discovering in eachword some hidden meaning.
What did you say to Costeclar? he resumed, "what did you do tohim to make him take such a determination?""Nothing," answered Maxence and Mlle. Gilberte.
The hope of being at last rid of that man inspired Mme. Favoral withsomething like courage.
He has doubtless understood, she meekly suggested, "that he couldnot triumph over our daughters repugnance."But her husband interrupted her,"No," he uttered, "Costeclar is not the man to trouble himself aboutthe ridiculous caprices of a little girl. There is something else.
But what is it? Come, if you know it, any of you, if you suspect iteven, speak, say it. You must see that I am in a state of fearfulanxiety."It was the first time that he thus allowed something to appear ofwhat was passing within him, the first time that he ever complained.
M. Costeclar alone, father, can give you the explanation you ask ofus, said Mlle. Gilberte.
The cashier of the Mutual Credit shook his head. "Do you suppose,then, that I have not questioned him? I found his letter thismorning at the office. At once I ran to his apartments, RueVivienne. He had just gone out; and it is in vain that I calledfor him at Jottras', and at the office of 'The Financial Pilot.'
I found him at last at the bourse, after running three hours. ButI could only get from him evasive answers and vague explanations.
Of course he did not fail to say, that, if he does withdraw, it isbecause he despairs of ever succeeding in pleasing Gilberte. Butit isn't so: I know it; I am sure of it; I read it in his eyes.
Twice his lips moved as if he were about to confess all; and thenhe said nothing. And the more I insisted, the more he seemed illat ease, embarrassed, uneasy, troubled, the more he appeared to melike a man who has been threatened, and dares not brave the threat."He directed upon his children one of those obstinate looks whichsearch the inmost depths of the conscience.
If you have done any thing to drive him off, he resumed, "confessit frankly, and I swear I will not reproach you.""We did not.""You did not threaten him?""No!"M. Favoral seemed appalled.
Doubtless you deceive me, he said, "and I hope you do. Unhappychildren! you do not know what this rupture may cost you.
And, instead of returning to his office, he shut himself up in thatlittle room which he called his study, and only came out of it atabout five o'clock, holding under his arm an enormous bundle ofpapers, and saying that it was useless to wait for him for dinner,as he would not come home until late in the night, if he came homeat all, being compelled to make up for his lost day.
What is the matter with your father, my poor children? exclaimedMme. Favoral. "I have never seen him in such a state.""Doubtless," replied Maxence, "the rupture with Costeclar is goingto break up some combination."But that explanation did not satisfy him any more than it did hismother. He, too, felt a vague apprehension of some impendingmisfortune. But what? He had nothing upon which to base hisconjectures. He knew nothing, any more than his mother, of hisfather's affairs, of his relations, of his interests, or even ofhis life, outside the house.
And mother and son lost themselves in suppositions as vain as ifthey had tried to find the solution of a problem, without possessingits terms.
With a single word Mlle. Gilberte thought she might have enlightenedthem.
In the unerring certainty of the blow, in the crushing promptnessof the result, she thought she could recognize the hand of Mariusde Tregars.
She recognized the hand of the man who acts, and does not talk.
And the girl's pride felt flattered by this victory, by this proofof the powerful energy of the man whom, unknown to all, she hadselected. She liked to imagine Marius de Tregars and M. Costeclarin presence of each other, - the one as imperious and haughty asshe had seen him meek and trembling; the other more humble stillthan he was arrogant with her.
One thing is certain, she repeated to herself; "and that is, Iam saved."And she wished the morrow to come, that she might announce herhappiness to the very involuntary and very unconscious accompliceof Marius, the worthy Maestro Gismondo Pulei.
The next day M. Favoral seemed to have resigned himself to thefailure of his projects; and, the following Saturday, he told as apleasant joke, how Mlle. Gilberte had carried the day, and hadmanaged to dismiss her lover.
But a close observer could discover in him symptoms of devouringcares. Deep wrinkles showed along his temples; his eyes were sunken;a continued tension of mind contracted his features. Often duringthe dinner he would remain motionless for several minutes, hisfork aloft; and then he would murmur, "How is it all going to end?"Sometimes in the morning, before his departure for his office, M.
Jottras, of the house of Jottras and Brother, and M. Saint Pavin,the manager of "The Financial Pilot," came to see him. Theycloseted themselves together, and remained for hours in conference,speaking so low, that not even a vague murmur could be heardoutside the door.
Your father has grave subjects of anxiety, my children, said Mme.
Favoral: "you may believe me, - me, who for twenty years have beentrying to guess our fate upon his countenance."But the political events were sufficient to explain any amount ofanxiety. It was the second week of July, 1870; and the destiniesof France trembled, as upon a cast of the dice, in the hands of afew presumptuous incapables. Was it war with Prussia, or was itpeace, that was to issue from the complications of a childishlyastute policy?
The most contradictory rumors caused daily at the bourse the mostviolent oscillations, which endangered the safest fortunes. A fewwords uttered in a corridor by Emile Ollivier had made a dozen heavyoperators rich, but had ruined five hundred small ones. On allhands, credit was trembling.
Until one evening when he came home,"War is declared," said M. Favoral.
It was but too true; and no one then had any fears of the resultfor France. They had so much exalted the French army, they hadso often said that it was invincible, that every one among thepublic expected a series of crushing victories.
Alas! the first telegram announced a defeat. People refused tobelieve it at first. But there was the evidence. The soldiers haddied bravely; but the chiefs had been incapable of leading them.
From that time, and with a vertiginous rapidity, from day to day,from hour to hour, the fatal news came crowding on. Like a riverthat overflows its banks, Prussia was overrunning France. Bazainewas surrounded at Metz; and the capitulation of Sedan capped theclimax of so many disasters.
At last, on the 4th of September, the republic was proclaimed.
On the 5th, when the Signor Gismondo Pulei presented himself at RueSt. Gilles, his face bore such an expression of anguish, that Mlle.
Gilberte could not help asking what was the matter.
He rose on that question, and, threatening heaven with his clinchedfist,"Implacable fate does not tire to persecute me," he replied. "Ihad overcome all obstacles: I was happy: I was looking forward toa future of fortune and glory. No, the dreadful war must break out."For the worthy maestro, this terrible catastrophe was but a newcaprice of his own destiny.
What has happened to you? inquired the young girl, repressing asmile.
It happens to me, signora, that I am about to lose my belovedpupil. He leaves me; he forsakes me. In vain have I thrown myselfat his feet. My tears have not been able to detain him. He is goingto fight; he leaves; he is a soldier!Then it was given to Mlle. Gilberte to see clearly within her soul.
Then she understood how absolutely she had given herself up, and towhat extent she had ceased to belong to herself.
Her sensation was terrible, such as if her whole blood had suddenlyescaped through her open arteries. She turned pale, her teethchattered; and she seemed so near fainting, that the Signor Gismondosprang to the door, crying, "Help, help! she is dying."Mme. Favoral, frightened, came running in. But already, thanks toan all-powerful projection of will, Mlle. Gilberte had recovered,and, smiling a pale smile,"It's nothing, mamma," she said. "A sudden pain in the head; butit's gone already."The worthy maestro was in perfect agony. Taking Mme. Favoral aside,"It is my fault," he said. "It is the story of my unheard-ofmisfortunes that has upset her thus. Monstrous egotist that I am!
I should have been careful of her exquisite sensibility."She insisted, nevertheless, upon taking her lesson as usual, andrecovered enough presence of mind to extract from the Signor Gismondoeverything that his much-regretted pupil had confided to him.
That was not much. He knew that his pupil had gone, like anyoneelse, to Rue de Cherche Midi; that he had signed an engagement;and had been ordered to join a regiment in process of formationnear Tours. And, as he went out,"That is nothing," said the kind maestro to Mme. Favoral. "Thesignora has quite recovered, and is as gay as a lark."The signora, shut up in her room, was shedding bitter tears. Shetried to reason with herself, and could not succeed. Never hadthe strangeness of her situation so clearly appeared to her. Sherepeated to herself that she must be mad to have thus becomeattached to a stranger. She wondered how she could have allowedthat love, which was now her very life, to take possession of hersoul. But to what end? It no longer rested with her to undo whathad been done.
When she thought that Marius de Tregars was about to leave Paristo become a soldier, to fight, to die perhaps, she felt her headwhirl; she saw nothing around her but despair and chaos.
And, the more she thought, the more certain she felt that Mariuscould not have trusted solely to the chance gossip of the SignorPulei to communicate to her his determination.
It is perfectly inadmissible, she thought. "It is impossible thathe will not make an effort to see me before going."Thoroughly imbued with the idea, she wiped her eyes, took a seatby an open window; and, whilst apparently busy with her work, sheconcentrated her whole attention upon the street.
There were more people out than usual. The recent events hadstirred Paris to its lowest depths, and, as from the crater of avolcano in labor, all the social scoriae rose to the surface. Menof sinister appearance left their haunts, and wandered through thecity. The workshops were all deserted; and people strolled atrandom, stupor or terror painted on their countenance. But in vaindid Mlle. Gilberte seek in all this crowd the one she hoped to see.
The hours went by, and she was getting discouraged, when suddenly,towards dusk, at the corner of the Rue Turenne,"'Tis he," cried a voice within her.
It was, in fact, M. de Tregars. He was walking towards theBoulevard, slowly, and his eyes raised.
Palpitating, the girl rose to her feet. She was in one of thosemoments of crisis when the blood, rushing to the brain, smothersall judgment. Unconscious, as it were, of her acts, she leanedover the window, and made a sign to Marius, which he understood verywell, and which meant, "Wait, I am coming down.""Where are you going, dear?" asked Mme. Favoral, seeing Gilberteputting on her bonnet.
To the shop, mamma, to get a shade of worsted I need.Mlle. Gilberte was not in the habit of going out alone; but ithappened quite often that she would go down in the neighborhood onsome little errand.
Do you wish the girl to go out with you? asked Mme. Favoral.
Oh, it isn't worth while!She ran down the stairs; and once out, regardless of the looks thatmight be watching her, she walked straight to M. de Tregars, who waswaiting on the corner of the Rue des Minimes.
You are going away? she said, too much agitated to notice his ownemotion, which was, however, quite evident.
I must, he answered.
Oh!"When France is invaded, the place for a man who bears my name iswhere the fighting is."But there will be fighting in Paris too."Paris has four times as many defenders as it needs. It is outsidethat soldiers will be wanted.They walked slowly, as they spoke thus, along the Rue des Minimes,one of the least frequented in Paris; and there were only to beseen at this hour five or six soldiers talking in front of thebarracks gate.
Suppose I were to beg you not to go, resumed Mlle. Gilberte.
Suppose I beseeched you, Marius!"I should remain then, he answered in a troubled voice; "but Iwould be betraying my duty, and failing to my honor; and remorsewould weigh upon our whole life. Command now, and I will obey."They had stopped; and no one seeing them standing there side byside affectionate and familiar could have believed that they werespeaking to each other for the first time. They themselves did notnotice it, so much had they come, with the help of all-powerfulimagination, and in spite of separation, to the understanding ofintimacy. After a moment of painful reflection,"I do not ask you any longer to stay," uttered the young girl.
He took her hand, and raised it to his lips.
I expected no less of your courage, he said, his voice vibratingwith love. But he controlled himself, and, in a more quiet tone,"Thanks to the indiscretion of Pulei," he added, "I was in hopes ofseeing you, but not to have the happiness of speaking to you. Ihad written "He drew from his pocket a large envelope, and, handing it to Mlle.
Gilberte,"Here is the letter," he continued, "which I intended for you. Itcontains another, which I beg you to preserve carefully, and not toopen unless I do not return. I leave you in Paris a devoted friend,the Count de Villegre. Whatever may happen to you, apply to himwith all confidence, as you would to myself."Mlle. Gilberte, staggering, leaned against the wall.
When do you expect to leave? she inquired.
This very night. Communications may he cut off at any moment.Admirable in her sorrow, but also full of energy, the poor girllooked up, and held out her hand to him.
Go then, she said, "0 my only friend! go, since honor commands.
But do not forget that it is not your life alone that you are goingto risk."And, fearing to burst into sobs, she fled, and reached the Rue St.
Gilles a few moments before her father, who had gone out in questof news.
Those he brought home were of the most sinister kind.
Like the rising tide, the Prussians spread and advanced, slowly,but steadily. Their marches were numbered; and the day and hourcould be named when their flood would come and strike the wallsof Paris.
And so, at all the railroad stations, there was a prodigious rushof people who wished to leave at any, cost, in any way, in thebaggage-car if needs be, and who certainly were not, like Marius,rushing to meet the enemy.
One after another, M. Favoral had seen nearly every one he knewtake flight.
The Baron and Baroness de Thaller and their daughter had gone toSwitzerland; M. Costeclar was traveling in Belgium; the elderJottras was in England, buying guns and cartridge; and if theyounger Jottras, with M. Saint Pavin of "The Financial Pilot,"remained in Paris, it was because, through the gallant influenceof a lady whose name was not mentioned, they had obtained somevaluable contracts from the government.
The perplexities of the cashier of the Mutual Credit were great.
The day that the Baron and the Baroness de Thaller had left,"Pack up our trunks," he ordered his wife. "The bourse is goingto close; and the Mutual Credit can very well get along without me."But the next day he became undecided again. What Mlle. Gilbertethought she could guess, was, that he was dying to start alone, andleave his family, but dared not do it. He hesitated so long, thatat last, one evening,"You may unpack the trunks," he said to his wife. "Paris isinvested; and no one can now leave."
In fact, the news had just come, that the Western Railroad, the lastone that had remained open, was now cut off.
Paris was invested; and so rapid had been the investment, that itcould hardly be believed.
People went in crowds on all the culminating points, the hills ofMontmartre, and the heights of the Trocadero. Telescopes had beenerected there; and every one was anxious to scan the horizon, andlook for the Prussians.
But nothing could be discovered. The distant fields retained theirquiet and smiling aspect under the mild rays of the autumn sun.
So that it really required quite an effort of imagination to realizethe sinister fact, to understand that Paris, with its two millionsof inhabitants, was indeed cut off from the world and separated fromthe rest of France, by an insurmountable circle of steel.
Doubt, and something like a vague hope, could be traced in the toneof the people who met on the streets, saying,"Well, it's all over: we can't leave any more. Letters, even,cannot pass. No more news, eh?"But the next day, which was the 19th of September, the mostincredulous were convinced.
For the first time Paris shuddered at the hoarse voice of the cannon,thundering on the heights of Chatillon. The siege of Paris, thatsiege without example in history, had commenced.
The life of the Favorals during these interminable days of anguishand suffering, was that of a hundred thousand other families.
Incorporated in the battalion of his ward, the cashier of the MutualCredit went off two or three times a week, as well as all hisneighbors, to mount guard on the ramparts, - a useless serviceperhaps, but which those that performed it did not look upon as such,- a very arduous service, at any rate, for poor merchants, accustomedto the comforts of their shops, or the quiet of their offices.
To be sure, there was nothing heroic in tramping through the mud,in receiving the rain or the snow upon the back, in sleeping on theground or on dirty straw, in remaining on guard with the thermometertwenty degrees below the freezing-point. But people die of pleurisyquite as certainly as of a Prussian bullet; and many died of it.
Maxence showed himself but rarely at Rue St. Gilles: enlisted in abattalion of sharpshooters, he did duty at the advanced posts. And,as to Mme. Favoral and Mlle. Gilberte, they spent the day trying toget something to live on. Rising before daylight, through rain orsnow, they took their stand before the butcher's stall, and, afterwaiting for hours, received a small slice of horse-meat.
Alone in the evening, by the side of the hearth where a few piecesof green wood smoked without burning, they started at each of thedistant reports of the cannon. At each detonation that shook thewindow-panes, Mme. Favoral thought that it was, perhaps, the onethat had killed her son.
And Mlle. Gilberte was thinking of Marius de Tregars. The accurseddays of November and December had come. There were constant rumorsof bloody battles around Orleans. She imagined Marius, mortallywounded, expiring on the snow, alone, without help, and without afriend to receive his supreme will and his last breath.
One evening the vision was so clear, and the impression so strong,that she started up with a loud cry.
What is it? asked Mme. Favoral, alarmed. "What is the matter?"With a little perspicacity, the worthy woman could easily haveobtained her daughter's secret; for Mlle. Gilberte was not incondition to deny anything. But she contented herself with anexplanation which meant nothing, and had not a suspicion, whenthe girl answered with a forced smile,"It's nothing, dear mother, nothing but an absurd idea that crossedmy mind."Strange to say, never had the cashier of the Mutual Credit been forhis family what he was during these months of trials.
During the first weeks of the siege he had been anxious, agitated,nervous; he wandered through the house like a soul in trouble; hehad moments of inconceivable prostration, during which tears couldbe seen rolling down upon his cheeks, and then fits of angerwithout motive.
But each day that elapsed had seemed to bring calm to his soul.
Little by little, he had become to his wife so indulgent and soaffectionate, that the poor helot felt her heart touched. He hadfor his daughter attentions which caused her to wonder.
Often, when the weather was fine, he took them out walking, leadingthem along the quays towards a part of the walls occupied by thebattalion of their ward. Twice he took them to St. Onen, where thesharp-shooters were encamped to which Maxence belonged.
Another day he wished to take them to visit M. de Thaller's house,of which he had charge. They refused, and instead of getting angry,as he certainly would have done formerly, he commenced describing tohem the splendors of the apartments, the magnificent furniture, thecarpets and the hangings, the paintings by the great masters, theobjects of arts, the bronzes, in a word, all that dazzling luxuryof which financiers make use, somewhat as hunters do of the mirrorwith which larks are caught.
Of business, nothing was ever said.
He went every morning as far as the office of the Mutual Credit;but, as he said, it was solely as a matter of form. Once in a longwhile, M. Saint Pavin and the younger Jottras paid a visit to theRue St. Gilles. They had suspended, - the one the payments of hisbanking house; the other, the publication of "The Financial Pilot."But they were not idle for all that; and, in the midst of the publicdistress, they still managed to speculate upon something, no oneknew what, and to realize profits.
They rallied pleasantly the fools who had faith in the defence, andimitated in the most laughable manner the appearance, under theirsoldier's coat, of three or four of their friends who had joinedthe marching battalions. They boasted that they had no privationsto endure, and always knew where to find the fresh butter wherewithto dress the large slices of beef which they possessed the art offinding. Mme. Favoral heard them laugh; and M. Saint Pavin, themanager of " The Financial Pilot," exclaimed,"Come, come! we would be fools to complain. It is a generalliquidation, without risks and without costs." Their mirth hadsomething revolting in it; for it was now the last and most acuteperiod of the siege.
At the beginning. the greatest optimists hardly thought that Pariscould hold out longer than six weeks. And now the investment hadlasted over four months. The population was reduced to namelessarticles of food. The supply of bread had failed; the wounded, forlack of a little soup, died in the ambulances; old people andchildren perished by the hundred; on the left bank the shells camedown thick and fast, the weather was intensely cold, and there wasno more fuel.
And yet no one complained. From the midst of that population oftwo millions of inhabitants, not one voice rose to beg for theircomfort, their health, their life even, at the cost of acapitulation.
Clear-sighted men had never hoped that Paris alone could compelthe raising of the siege; but they thought, that by holding out,and keeping the Prussians under its walls, Paris would give toFrance time to rise, to organize armies, and to rush upon the enemy.
There was the duty of Paris; and Paris was toiling to fulfil it tothe utmost limits of possibility, reckoning as a victory each daythat it gained.
Unfortunately, all this suffering was to be in vain. The fatalhour struck, when, supplies being exhausted, it became necessaryto surrender. During three days the Prussians camped in the ChampsElysees, gazing with longing eyes upon that city, object of theirmost eager desires, - that Paris within which, victorious thoughthey were, they had not dared to venture. Then, soon after,communications were reopened; and one morning, as he received aletter from Switzerland,"It is from the Baron de Thaller!" exclaimed M. Favoral.
Exactly so. The manager of the Mutual Credit was a prudent man.
Pleasantly situated in Switzerland, he was in nowise anxious toreturn to Paris before being quite certain that he had no risksto run.
Upon receiving M. Favoral's assurances to that effect, he started;and, almost at the same time the elder Jottras and M. Costeclarmade their appearance.
It was a curious spectacle, the return of those braves for whomParisian slang had invented the new and significant expression offranc-fileur.
They were not so proud then as they have been since. Feeling ratherembarrassed in the midst of a population still quivering with theemotions of the siege, they had at least the good taste to try andfind pretexts for their absence.
I was cut off, affirmed the Baron de Thaller. "I had gone toSwitzerland to place my wife and daughter in safety. When I cameback, good-by! the Prussians had closed the doors. For more thana week, I wandered around Paris, trying to find an opening. Ibecame suspected of being a spy. I was arrested. A little more,and I was shot dead!""As to myself," declared M. Costeclar, "I foresaw exactly what hashappened. I knew that it was outside, to organize armies of relief,that men would be wanted. I went to offer my services to thegovernment of defence; and everybody in Bordeaux saw me booted andspurred, and ready to leave."He was consequently soliciting the Cross of the Legion of Honor,and was not without hopes of obtaining it through the all-powerfulinfluence of his financial connections.
Didn't So-and-so get it? he replied to objections. And he namedthis or that individual whose feats of arms consisted principallyin having exhibited themselves in uniforms covered with gold laceto the very shoulders.
But I am the man who deserves it most, that cross, insisted theyounger M. Jottras; "for I, at least, have rendered valuableservices."And he went on telling how, after searching for arms all overEngland, he had sailed for New York, where he had purchased anynumber of guns and cartridges, and even some batteries of artillery.
This last journey had been very wearisome to him, he added and yethe did not regret it; for it had furnished him an opportunity tostudy on the spot the financial morals of America; and he hadreturned with ideas enough to make the fortune of three or fourstock companies with twenty millions of capital.
Ah, those Americans! he exclaimed. "They are the men whounderstand business! We are but children by the side of them."It was through M. Chapelain, the Desciavettes, and old Desormeaux,that these news reached the Rue St. Gilles.
It was also through Maxence, whose battalion had been dissolved,and who, whilst waiting for something better, had accepted aclerkship in the office of the Orleans Railway, where he earnedtwo hundred francs a month. For M. Favoral saw and heard nothingthat was going on around him. He was wholly absorbed in hisbusiness: he left earlier, came home later, and hardly allowedhimself time to eat and drink.
He told all his friends that business was looking up again in themost unexpected manner; that there were fortunes to be made bythose who could command ready cash; and that it was necessary tomake up for lost time.
He pretended that the enormous indemnity to be paid to the Prussianswould necessitate an enormous movement of capital, financialcombinations, a loan, and that so many millions could not be handledwithout allowing a few little millions to fall into intelligentpockets.
Dazzled by the mere enumeration of those fabulous sums, "I shouldnot be a bit surprised," said the others, "to see Favoral doubleand treble his fortune. What a famous match his daughter will be!"Alas! never had Mlle. Gilberte felt in her heart so much hatredand disgust for that money, the only thought, the sole subject ofconversation, of those around her, - for that cursed money whichhad risen like an insurmountable obstacle between Marius andherself.
For two weeks past, the communications had been completely restored;and there was as yet no sign of M. de Tregars. It was with the mostviolent palpitations of her heart that she awaited each day the hourof the Signor Gismondo Pulei's lesson: and more painful each timebecame her anguish when she heard him exclaim,"Nothing, not a line, not a word. The pupil has forgotten his oldmaster!"But Mlle. Gilberte knew well that Marius did not forget. Her bloodfroze in her veins when she read in the papers the interminablelist of those poor soldiers who had succumbed during the invasion,- the more fortunate ones under Prussian bullets; the others alongthe roads, in the mud or in the snow, of cold, of fatigue, ofsuffering and of want.
She could not drive from her mind the memory of that lugubriousvision which had so much frightened her; and she was asking herselfwhether it was not one of those inexplicable presentiments, ofwhich there are examples, which announce the death of a belovedperson.
Alone at night in her little room, Mlle. Gilberte withdrew from thehiding-place, where she kept it preciously, that package whichMarius had confided to her, recommending her not to open it untilshe was sure that he would not return. It was very voluminous,enclosed in an envelope of thick paper, sealed with red wax, bearingthe arms of Tregars; and she had often wondered what it couldpossibly contain. And now she shuddered at the thought that shehad perhaps the right to open it.
And she had no one of whom she could ask for a word of hope. Shewas compelled to hide her tears, and to put on a smile. She wascompelled to invent pretexts for those who expressed their wonderat seeing her exquisite beauty withering in the bud,- for hermother, whose anxiety was without limit, when she saw her thus pale,her eyes inflamed, and undermined by a continuous fever.
True, Marius, on leaving, had left her a friend, the Count deVillegre; and, if any one knew any thing, he certainly did. Butshe could see no way of hearing from him without risking her secret.
Write to him? Nothing was easier, since she had his address, - RueTurenne. But where could she ask him to direct his answer? Rue St.
Gilles? Impossible! True, she might go to him, or make anappointment in the neighborhood. But how could she escape, evenfor an hour, without exciting Mme. Favoral's suspicions?
Sometimes it occurred to her to confide in Maxence, who was laboringwith admirable constancy to redeem his past.
But what! must she, then, confess the truth, - confess that she,Gilberte, had lent her ears to the words of a stranger, met bychance in the street, and that she looked forward to no happinessin life save through him? She dared not. She could not take uponherself to overcome the shame of such a situation.
She was on the verge of despair, the day when the Signor Puleiarrived radiant, exclaiming from the very threshold, "I have news!"And at once, without surprise at the awful emotion of the girl,which he attributed solely to the interest she felt for him, - himGismondo Pulei, he went on,- "I did not get them direct, but througha respectable signor with long mustaches, and a red ribbon at hisbuttonhole, who, having received a letter from my dear pupil, hasdeigned to come to my room, and read it to me."The worthy maestro had not forgotten a single word of that letter;and it was almost literally that he repeated it.
Six weeks after having enlisted, his pupil had been promotedcorporal, then sergeant, then lieutenant. He had fought in allthe battles of the army of the Loire without receiving a scratch.
But at the battle of the Maus, whilst leading back his men, whowere giving way, he had been shot twice, full in the breast.
Carried dying into an ambulance, he had lingered three weeksbetween life and death, having lost all consciousness of self.
Twenty-four hours after, he had recovered his senses; and he tookthe first opportunity to recall himself to the affection of hisfriends. All danger was over, he suffered scarcely any more; andthey promised him, that, within a month, he would be up, and ableto return to Paris.
For the first time in many weeks Mlle. Gilberte breathed freely.
But she would have been greatly surprised, had she been told thata day was drawing near when she would bless those wounds whichdetained Marius upon a hospital cot. And yet it was so.
Mme. Favoral and her daughter were alone, one evening, at the house,when loud clamors arose from the 'street, in the midst of whichcould be heard drunken voices yelling the refrains of revolutionarysongs, accompanied by continuous rumbling sounds. They ran to thewindow. The National Guards had just taken possession of the cannondeposited in the Place Royale. The reign of the Commune wascommencing.
In less than forty-eight hours, people came to regret the worst daysof the siege. Without leaders, without direction, the honest menhad lost their heads. All the braves who had returned at the timeof the armistice had again taken flight. Soon people had to hideor to fly to avoid being incorporated in the battalions of theCommune. Night and day, around the walls, the fusillade rattled,and the artillery thundered.
Again M. Favoral had given up going to his office. What's the use?
Sometimes, with a singular look, he would say to his wife andchildren,"This time it is indeed a liquidation. Paris is lost!"And indeed they thought so, when at the hour of the supreme struggle,among the detonations of the cannon and the explosion of the shells;they felt their house shaking to its very foundations; when in themidst of the night they saw their apartment as brilliantly lightedas at mid-day by the flames which were consuming the Hotel de Villeand the houses around the Place de la Bastille. And, in fact, therapid action of the troops alone saved Paris from destruction.
But towards the end of the following week, matters had commenced toquiet down; and Gilberte learned the return of Marius.